Love Beat (20 page)

Nera stands very still, her eyes wide then snaps into action. Within minutes, one of the women at reception gets through to the local police. Another is calling the dining room to summon the waiters. The footmen form a cordon to prevent the invading officers from leaving.

Nera barks out a stream of instructions then takes charge of the phone. Through gritted teeth and with furious looks at the rest of us she relays the gist of the polite murmurs coming from the other end.

Ten minutes later the panic starts to subside. It turns into gales of laughter and much backslapping.

The local force has no record of a call. The duty officer is confused. Is it urgent? There’s an important athletics event north of here and he’s short of officers but he can send someone along later.

“Thank you, Officer, no need. Sorry to trouble you.” Nera slams down the phone and fixes the nearest policemen with a gimlet stare. After a few moments he confesses, sweating slightly.

They’re all from the film crew. They’re wearing uniforms from the studio wardrobe. Now they’re loud and hearty, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

Just then Mel and Ben appear at the head of the staircase and walk slowly down, to a chorus of cheers. It seems they’ve promised drinks all round if the hoax works.

Mel takes one look at me, spots the cuffs on my ankles and wrists, and raises an eyebrow. “Well, well, what have we here? What have you been up to, might I ask?”

I grin back, scouring my mind frantically for some possible explanation, when there’s a sudden silence.

At the head of the stairs leading down to the cellars a small group of policemen have just appeared. They look triumphant. Handcuffed to one of them is Cade, ashen-faced, his eyes dark with fury.

Nera quickly takes charge and has him released, but not before his eyes rake the crowd and finally fall on me, half turned away from Mel, who has a small smile still frozen on her lips.

As our eyes lock I see his face darken even further as Nera murmurs something in his ear, recounting the real cause of all the excitement.

I feel my stomach shrivel.

He’s furious.

There is no way I can save my friends now. Keeping his eyes firmly fixed on me, he holds one hand aloft, still in handcuffs. The arm of the fake officer who has just captured him shoots up with his.

Cade ignores him.

I stare as his face relaxes into a broad grin.
How does he do this?
He’s taking this remarkably well. Either that or he’s a brilliant actor.

“Well done, everybody. Remarkably like the real thing. The excitement’s over, folks. You can all go back to what you were doing before our mock raid. Drinks on the house. Thanks to the documentary team. Thanks, again—and congratulations.”

Guests flush with relief and break out into excited, adrenaline-fueled chatter mingling with the actors who are proud of their show. Music starts playing again as everyone heads for the ballroom and the bar.

From the look of things, it’s going to be a long night.

But Cade’s grin fades abruptly as his hands are freed. He raises his voice once more. “And I’d like to see Mel Macallan, Ben Tyne-Follet and Tunis Vale in my office—
now
.”

* * * *

“And guess what? We’re planning a little diversion in the next day or so. Just thought I’d let you know. I’m getting mighty sick of Nera and Mr. Media Mogul bossing us all about.”

“Diversion? What kind of diversion?”

We’re in Cade’s office. I cringe as I hear the security tape replay for the second time. I’m standing a little apart from the others. For them, it’s one big joke. They’ve taken Cade’s reaction at face value.

I feel sick.

Cade leans on the imposing desk, arms folded. Next to him stands a furious, quivering Nera.

The only other people in the room are a thin man with a crew cut and the lean look of an ex-Para who is introduced as Alford, head of security, and the burly figure of Mason, Cade’s driver—also, it turns out, his bodyguard.

It’s the same tape he played me, but this time he plays all of it. The hiss has been erased and it’s very clear what’s being said—and who’s saying it.

I’m furious with myself. This is deeply humiliating and dangerous. I should have stepped in at the first hint from Mel that something was in the air. What do they think they’re playing at? At this rate we’ll all be kicked out—not just from Beat Hall but from our careers as well.

And all because I was called home. This is my fault. Everyone else behaved beautifully, even Cade. And this is how I repay everybody…

Mel and Ben are relentlessly upbeat about their ruse, blithely unaware of the danger they’re in. “Lighten up. It’s just a bit of fun. And what were
you
doing down in the dungeon, Cade? I think we should be told.” Mel sounds playful.

I wince as I see Cade’s jaw stiffen.

“Me?” Cade directs a glint of fury at me as he turns his attention back to Mel, his expression cool. “Just checking on a few things. One of the whips was reported missing. We like to keep the equipment fully stocked and ready for use. I hear you’re a star pupil.”

Mel is instantly distracted and launches into a glowing account of her training. She’s proud of her success as a budding Domme. She glances pointedly at Ben a few times. He looks sheepish but pleased. Nera soon visibly relaxes and even joins in with a few sharp comments of her own.

Cade’s eyes lock on me. “There, Miss Vale, see what you’re missing? You should have joined in. Why not ask Mel here for some instruction? I gather she’s quite proficient.” His sarcastic tone could slice lemons.

“But hey, she’s been busy too, by the look of it.” Mel turns to me with a grin. “Why the slave cuffs, Tunis? Suddenly got a taste for the dark side?”

The cuffs.
I’ve forgotten all about them. My stomach churns. With an effort, I match her playful smile. “They were in my dressing room. Now I can’t get them off. Maybe I should ask a policeman.” As a joke it’s pretty feeble, but it snaps the tension. Ben laughs out loud and even Nera smiles.

Within minutes, the room empties and I’m alone with Cade.

This is not over yet, not by a long way.

“You knew about this?” His tone is quiet, heavy with menace.

My cheeks burn as the air between us turns to ice. “No. I told you.”

“I find that hard to believe. Within minutes of Macallan telling you they’re up to something, you jump into Garth Delaney’s car and make a getaway. Looks to me like you jumped ship.”

“I can’t help how it looks. You know why I left. You were there.”

“All I know is your relative had some sort of attack and the next morning she was fine. So I’ll ask you again, did you know what they were going to do?”

“No. Mel never got a chance to explain. I’d no idea it would be a stunt like this. If so, I’d have stopped it—or at least tried to.”

He watches me for a moment then sighs. “Okay. But if something like this happens again, I’m pulling the plug.”

I let out a long breath. “Thank you.” I turn away and make for the door.

“Where are you going?” His tone is low, barely a murmur. I pull up short and tense all over.

A tremor runs through me. “Down to the bar to talk to the others. Why?”

All at once he’s behind me. I feel his breath on my neck. He reaches around me, his face close to my cheek, deliberately pushes the door shut then turns the key in the lock.

Slowly he scoops the hair away from my neck and kisses me just under the ear, his mouth hotter this time. “Not so fast. You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here. And you’re going to bend over that desk.” Slowly he turns me round to face him. “You defied me, Tunis. That was a clear breach of the rules. So now you’ll get punished.”

Heat burns deep inside me as my mouth goes dry. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you deserve it. And because I feel like it.”

He captures my mouth, his tongue invading my lips in a thrilling surge, eager and hungry. I press against him, my will dissolving as his erection presses into my belly, hot and painfully hard through the thin silk of my tight sheath dress.

And all at once I feel like it too. We were torn away from each other mid-session, and now I realize how intense these sessions have become. We’d hardly started but the heat of it still burns deep inside both of us.

There’s only one way to relieve it.

This is less a punishment—more a gut-wrenching
need
.

We’ve been doing this just six days. In fact, it’s barely a week since we met.

I can hardly believe it.

I mew deep in my throat as he presses deliberately against me. He knows what I want. I deliberately reach down and spread my hand wide to fondle the hard bulk swelling in his fly, stroking, pressing as I moan into his kiss, imploring him to free himself.

I want him. Every time I see him I want to feel his warm hands on my backside, his hard, silky heat thrusting into my belly—but now I’m desperate. I want to feel him too—right here, right now—and there’s no better place for it than over his desk.

He growls low in his throat in answer and he’s clawing at my gown, pulling it up, sliding it higher and higher up my thighs until it sits around my waist in a tight ring of rumpled silk. Below it I’m naked and shamefully exposed, my slit pooling with moisture, my folds already pulsing with lust, aching and ready for him.

His hands search between my legs, his fingers questing deep into my swollen, lustful creases. His lips stretch against mine in a sardonic smile as I moan into his kiss, my sex throbbing instantly at his expert touch. The faint growl deep in his throat tells me he knows I’m ready and that I want this, badly.

“Over the desk.
Now
.”

Swiftly he gets me into position, making me reach out sideways across the desk. I cling on to the beaded mahogany edges with my fingertips. With my cheek pressed hard against the leather top, I peer into the depths of the heavy antique chair he was sitting in. It smells of leather and spice and warm, disturbing
male
.

The aroma sends another pulse to my groin as he starts to massage my bare skin, firm and caressing, preparing me for what’s to come.

His voice is low and deadly. “This is a punishment. It will hurt. There’s no soundproofing in here so you’ll have to keep quiet. If you cry out, I’ll give you extra.”

At that moment the massage stops and I feel a thunderous slap on my bottom. I jerk painfully against the desk, and it stings hard.

I need this…

I grit my teeth and screw up my eyes in an effort not to cry out but the blows fall so hard and fast it’s almost impossible. After a few minutes there’s a pause, and he reaches round the desk to open one of the drawers.

What I see lying there makes me gasp. As he lifts it out, I know the worst is still to come. His hand brushes past my head, the object traveling close to my face. I smell new leather and recognize the strong, braided curve of a coiled belt.

The deep throb between my legs grows worse. Each blow of his hands jolts me against the polished mahogany, firing extra spurts of heat into my mounting climax. As the sting of the blows fades to a hot glow, he gets into position and my arousal flares to white heat.

Just one or two blows should do it…
Am I really looking
forward
to this?

“Now the belt. Hold still.”

I screw my eyes tight shut and wait, holding my breath.
Yes, yes, please…

Without warning the strap lands across the very top edge of my thighs, where they’re the most sensitive. I shriek, and it lands again.

No, this is
wrong
… “No, stop, stop.
Mercy
.”

I gasp for breath as the safeword explodes from my lips. I lie across the desk, panting as the room starts to spin.

“
What
?”

I hear the strap clatter to the floor. I stand up stiffly, my lower regions on fire. I turn to face him, pulling awkwardly at the hem of my dress. “You heard. This feels wrong—different. You’re angry.”

He takes a step forward, his expression curiously rapt, a new gleam in his eyes. “You mean you can
tell
? Well, hallelujah.”

With a lithe movement he leans over and scoops up the strap, coiling it expertly in his long fingers and dropping it back into the drawer, his breathing still uneven. “This calls for a celebration. How about that drink?”

* * * *

The ballroom’s quiet. The team has vanished and most of the guests seem to be out in the grounds where the pool’s back in use and a live rock band is echoing through the soft summer night.

I glance round to check that there’s no one close enough to hear us. “Why did you lose your temper?”

I feel rumpled and shaky and deeply resentful that Cade can lean casually on a bar stool and look so elegant, so in control.

He signals to the barman. “Two Sidecars.”

The drinks arrive quickly, a rich tawny color, smelling of spirits. He passes me one.

I look at it doubtfully. “What’s in it?” I’ve never got the hang of cocktails.

“It’s like a daiquiri, but with brandy.”

As he reaches for his drink I lay a hand on his wrist. “Cade?”

He glances up. Something in my face catches his attention. “What?”

I lick my lips. “I’m causing you problems?”

His nostrils flare. “You
are
the problem, damn it.”

He makes for his glass again but I grip his wrist harder. After a second I let one finger move gently on the back of his hand. He looks up with a frown.

I hold his gaze and lick my lips. “I thought you people never drank before a—scene?” I hold my breath as I keep my hand in place, my finger still moving. I see him swallow.

Between us time seems to stand still.

His gaze locked on mine, he signals the barman. “I changed my mind. Bring me two mineral waters. Sparkling. Ice. Twist of lime.” He sounds husky.

I slide my hand discreetly away so the barman won’t see but Cade captures it out of sight. He keeps his eyes locked on mine.