* * * *
Now Cade’s slipped away again. At last I find him pacing the upper deck, phone in hand. When he sees me his eyes gleam as he draws me into his arms. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look in the morning?”
I smile into his neck and press against him, drinking in his delicious aroma of costly aftershave laced with a hint of male animal. “How would you know? You never wake up with me.”
He kisses me gently. “I like to watch you sleep. But this morning I had business.”
His phone buzzes again. He answers it with his arm still firmly around my waist.
I feel his arm stiffen.
Something’s wrong.
After a few seconds the call ends abruptly. He turns to me with a strange expression. “That was Nera. I have to leave. Something’s come up. You must stay here.”
Nera again.
I stare at him, horrified. “No.
No.
You can’t do that. I’m yours for the week, remember?”
I’ve known him ten days. It feels like ten lifetimes. And soon we’ll part, maybe forever. I scan his face, panic rising. “We can’t lose our last few days together. I don’t care what’s happened.”
He puts his arms around me and holds me tight. “Trust me, Tunis. It’s better this way. You’ll be safe.”
I can hardly hear what he’s saying. I can only see the pain in his eyes, mingled with something else—
fear
. It sears my heart. “I’m safe with you. I’m coming with you. You need me.”
His face contracts, and he closes his eyes for a moment. I’ve never seen him like this. It’s terrifying.
When he speaks again, his voice is husky. “You’re right. I do need you. That’s the trouble. That’s why you’ll be safer here.” He swallows, like he’s coming to a decision. “Okay. You can come too. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
On the flight back, Cade is moody. He refuses to tell me what’s wrong.
Lisa, our hapless attendant, hovers with coffee and drinks, but he waves her away with an impatient twitch of his fingers.
She gives me pitying looks. She thinks we’ve had a fight.
The minute she leaves us, we do fight.
He takes my phone out of his pocket. “Still missing this?”
Startled, I stare at him. “Yes. Can I have it back?”
“No.”
I feel a sudden chill. “Why not?”
“Let’s check your texts.”
I stare in shocked, silent outrage as he scrolls through the list.
He starts reading them aloud, his voice calm.
“Just landed at Tenerife. Janice getting a suntan… Dad.
Here’s another.
Call me. Call me. Call me… Mel.
”
He glances at me, his expression blank. “All hers say much the same…” He scrolls farther down the list, his jaw rigid. “Here’s two more.
Jake’s dying to tell you. We’re going to blow the Fitzlean empire sky-high.”
He pauses, his face expressionless, then resumes.
“This is urgent—we can’t do this without you. Please call… M.”
He looks at me, thoughtful as a broody poet, his eyes burning into mine. “Anything to say?”
My heart sinks. “Would it? Blow you sky-high, I mean? If it came out you weren’t there that night?”
“Why do you ask?” His voice is soft—too soft.
I frown. “Well…
Would it
?” I wait for him to explain, dismiss my fears with a wisecrack and a grin. Nothing happens. His expression stays blank.
“See what I mean?” He slips my phone back in his pocket. “The inner reporter never sleeps.”
* * * *
At Beat Hall preparations are now under way for the coming festival. As we come in to land, we can see the grounds already teeming with activity. Staging is being erected and cabling laid. Recording vans and container trucks are gathering on a remote field, out of sight of the main house.
On the short drive through the grounds, Cade relaxes a little as he talks about the festival.
For two weeks each year, Beat Hall becomes Izzy’s domain as he spins the magic that brings in the crowds. The grounds here will be flooded with a sea of people, the night sky bright with dazzling color, the ancient house transformed into a living backdrop for acts from all around the world.
It will delight thousands of fans, launch careers—and make a staggering amount of money.
On the drive, Izzy’s waiting to greet us. “Hi, you guys. See the ol’ man?”
He and Cade exchange a few terse remarks about Sir Gerald and his circle. When Izzy offers to show us round, Cade shakes his head. “I’ve got to find Nera. Catch up with you later.”
I’m happy to stay and bask in Izzy’s lazy Southern drawl. First he leads me over to meet a group of technicians and as we walk around, I marvel at the scale of the event taking shape here. Catering, toilets, amusements and emergency tent cover will be provided for thousands of people. It sounds like a logistical nightmare, but he makes it all sound like an afternoon picnic.
At last we come back onto the drive and he looks me over, his blue gaze shrewd. “How’s tricks, anyway? Aria sends her best. She says you gotta come again real soon. She wants dance lessons.” He breaks off with a frown. “Hey, honey, you okay? You look kinda peaky. Mr. Big Cat not treatin’ you so good?”
I sigh. “I’m fine. Well, I would be without Nera pulling his strings. What is it about her, Izzy? What’s her hold over him?”
He scratches his head. “Hey, babe, this is heavy. Cade oughta tell you all this hisself. Tell ya what… Ya seen that photo in his office? The one by that hotshot newsman, the one with the kids?”
“The Nathan Gemmell?” I frown, puzzled.
“Yep, that one. Take a good look at it, honey. Says it all.”
* * * *
In the main house I learn that Cade and Nera are downstairs. I feel an instant pulse of heat.
Downstairs
means the cellars, and to me that means just one thing—the dungeon.
As the service elevator speeds downward, I feel the old thrill pulse through me. Maybe there’s still time for another session, before the end of our time together…
As the doors slide open, the dungeon is gloomy, the only light a soft glow from a room at the far end. It slants over the walls, gleaming on the rails of whips and floggers, glinting off the metal hooks and chains.
Ignoring a distinct pulse from somewhere down below, I hurry past them. I pull up short as I make out angry voices and catch my name.
Cade and Nera are arguing—about me.
“It’s the best place. You want her out of reach, and I want a display. It’s a no-brainer. And in two days their deadline’s past. Look, I’ve got a lot riding on this, Cade. What’s your problem? She’s trained now, isn’t she?” Nera sounds exasperated.
Cade’s deep tone is barely audible. I strain to catch the words.
“Not in the sense you mean.”
“You had her in the dungeon two hours a night. What were you doing? Embroidery?”
“It’s complicated. She’s delicate. “
“
Delicate
? She’s a dancer, for fuck’s sake. She’s strong as an ox. You should have left her to me. I’m used to vanillas.”
He’s saying something else. Slowly his voice gets louder. “I can’t do this. Not with her. You don’t understand. She’s too intense. I might lose it.” He adds something else, too low for me to hear.
Whatever it is, it’s a game-changer. It stops Nera in her tracks.
After a long pause, her voice comes again. She sounds flat, defeated. “
Shit
. So that’s it. Then we’re screwed.”
What’s he saying about me?
I push open the door and step into the room. They stare, their faces twin masks of shock.
“What’s all this? Why are you screwed?”
Nera gives an angry snort. “You tell her. If you don’t, I will.”
Ice clutches at my stomach. “Tell me what? That you’re lovers?”
For a second Cade looks bemused. “
What?
No, nothing like that. Nera’s her professional name. This is Fran, my sister.”
His sister
? My startled brain races to assemble scattered fragments of conversation.
All that time in clinics. Rehab, you’d call it…
She went to pieces after her mother’s crash and Cade and Izzy put her back together. No wonder Nera’s so weird.
Poor girl.
Sympathy mingled with deep relief floods through me. “
Fran
? I’d no idea. I’m so pleased to meet you.”
Nera scowls. “It’s a secret, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell anybody. We keep our professional lives separate.” She glances at Cade. “I’ll tell her the rest. He wasn’t in charge of the club that night. I was. It was my first night, and I overdid things. The girl threatened to sue. Cade took the rap to protect me.”
She fixes me with a look of venom. “And your so-called friends are trying to expose him. If they do, we’re both finished—maybe you too. They’re looking for you. They want to slot their exposé into the end of the film you’re making so it airs too late for us to stop it. But your contract states you’ve got to give the okay or they can’t go ahead. Cade wants you kept out of the way.”
“Why?”
Cade looks stony. “You’re too loyal. You’ll give in. It’s simpler to keep you out of reach.”
I glare at him. “It’s simpler to trust me, surely?”
His cynical glance warns me that aspect of our relationship still needs some work.
Nera’s impatient now. “I’ve offered to hide you here for a couple of days until after the deadline, but he refuses to do it.”
I frown. “Why?”
They exchange a look. Cade speaks directly to me, his voice low. “She’s set up a dun-cam.”
“A
what
?”
Nera gives an impatient wave of her hand. “A live feed on the Internet. Mine’s called ’The Lair of the Panther’.” She breaks off and her brow wrinkles in a worried frown. The sultry crimson lips droop a little. “Cade’s booked for the opening set but our professional sub’s off sick, and he won’t use you.”
My heart skips a beat. “Why not?”
Nera snorts. “He’s in love with you.”
For a moment we’re suspended in space and time as I stare at him and wait for him to deny it.
Nothing happens. “You are?”
His face is like stone. “Yes.”
“And you won’t do this?”
“Not with you.”
I gaze at him, my heart full. “Why not?”
He pauses, his eyes full of pain. “Because I want it too much. That’s why.”
I touch my cheek to his. “Then I want it too.”
“You don’t understand, Tunis. It’s a bullwhip. It’s—”
“A stock whip. You told me.” I kiss him on the jaw. “More for effect than contact.” I kiss him again. “With you at one end and me at the other. What’s wrong with that?”
He looks down at me in a daze. “Everything, damn it.”
He loves me.
I wind my arms around his neck and I feel his arms fold around me. As he pulls me close, everything sings.
I glance at Nera. “When do we start?”
She gasps then claps her hands. “Thanks, Tunis. You’re a star.”
With the decision made, Cade and his sister become brisk and professional. Their matter-of-fact instructions take my breath away and make me pulse with excitement. Part of the time I’ll be chained at the wrists and ankles. At other times, I’ll be free to dodge and move about.
In his presence I’m to be respectful and graceful at all times. If I make too much noise, I’ll be gagged. Rest and comfort breaks will be frequent.
As we build up footage, earlier film will fill in when we’re off set. At night I get a longer break.
I’ll be masked, Cade in costume. Out of shot behind a glass screen, assistants will watch in case of emergency.
I sign a new contract, submit to a final medical and by evening, we’re ready to start. Masked, oiled and wearing only wrist and ankle cuffs and a thin body harness, I pose center stage to await my first encounter with the Panther.
At Nera’s signal, the lights dim, drums roll and he appears.
He looks absolutely terrifying.
It’s the first time since that fateful night I’ve faced him in his own territory. I’m rooted to the spot. It’s not just the costume. Something about him seems different—taller, more powerful, more menacing. Beneath the hood, his eyes glitter. They hold mine in a steady, unblinking gaze.
He’s a stranger but also disturbingly, thrillingly familiar.
He takes up a stance with his legs apart, arms crossed. A fearsome whip is looped under one arm. It coils at his hip like a serpent.
He’s naked to the waist, his body oiled and gleaming. His armlets, loincloth and thigh cuirasses are all in black leather. Power crackles around him like static, sending my senses into free-fall, robbing me of breath.
I’m used to theater. I know it’s all fake. But oddly, now that we’re in costume, the threat seems real.
This is dangerous.
“Kneel.” His voice is deep and stirring.
I hold his gaze, my head high. “No.”
My voice sounds loud in the sudden silence. There’s a short pause.
Excited whispers come from beyond the glass. I ignore them.
“Kneel.” His voice is louder and has a note of impatience. I see his hand twitch.
“No.”
The whip lands with a terrifying crash near my toes, making me jump. I clench my jaw and raise my chin.
“
Kneel.
”
I’m not up to this? Who says? “Make me.”
With a sudden twist of his body, the whip and his arm uncoil as one, fast and lethal as a snake. I feel a searing pain at the backs of my legs as the whip wraps around my hamstrings. He jerks his arm back, and I sink to my knees with a shriek.
In a split second, the whip is withdrawn and lands again, this time around my waist, the end snaking up between my breasts with a curling sting that makes me catch my breath.
At a burst of applause, he coils the whip and nods to the assistants, who race in to chain me into position for his display. I’m hauled up between the rings, arms splayed, feet pulled wide apart and the Panther begins in earnest.
I’ve no idea how long it goes on. All I know is the blows and the lithe, athletic being they flow from are one and the same. The sound is far worse than the sting. I guess he’s using every ounce of his skill to spare me, the crash of the whip coming mainly from its contact with the walls and the floor.