Not to save my sister. I’ll do anything to kill Dylan. “I didn’t make up everything.” My voice was soft as I answered him. “I have been trained before.”
I couldn’t read his tone, and pressed against his chest, I couldn’t see his face. “Do you want to walk away, cherie?”
“No, please no.” Desperation tinged my tone.
“There are other ways to help your sister, Jenny.”
I turned towards him and I met his eyes. My plan was once again on the verge of unravelling, but my thirst for revenge wasn’t the primary emotion when I looked at him. Rather, there was a genuine panic that he’d send me away. That he didn’t want me. That he didn’t feel this lust and passion dancing in the air between us, a palpable chemistry that pulled me close to him. “I don’t want another way,” I whispered.
His lips ground down on mine.
My memory was always faultless, often to my detriment. I would have sworn I’d remembered the way Alexander’s lips felt against mine. But this kiss in this moment –no memory of mine could compete.
I groaned and moved closer to him, my hands reaching to pull his head towards me. He shook his head and I stopped myself, but I couldn’t hold back my whimper of longing. My hands closed into fists at my side.
My nipples pressed against his chest. My * wept with need. Suddenly, the scenes of sex in the room didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he felt against my body.
When he pulled away, I swayed. The room spun around me. If it wasn’t for his hands holding me safe, I would have fallen to the floor.
“We’ll have to re-do your limits list then, cherie. This time, the old-fashioned way. Through experimentation and discovery.” His voice was like foreplay. There was the promise of so much more in his tone, in the way his eyes examined me. I should have felt like meat, given my complicated history with sex, and my awareness of who this man really was. But I didn’t. I felt desired.
I probably needed someone to slap some sense into me.
“Have you eaten?” His question interrupted the self-recrimination.
I shook my head mutely. I hadn’t eaten since last night, too stressed by the upcoming auction to be able to force food into my stomach.
“Tell me, Jenny,” he asked, his eyes boring into me, “would you enjoy being paraded around Bangkok in this…” his hand gestured to my short robe, barely covering my ass and *, “robe, with my collar around your neck?”
What was I supposed to say? He already knew that I’d lied on my questionnaire. And if I started lying, the falsehoods would stack on top of each other and I wouldn’t be able to keep all of them straight. It was best to stick to the truth. “No,” I mumbled, my eyes on the floor.
He laughed, a short, humourless sound. “I thought not.” He lifted his hand up and in a flash, one of Madame Lorraine’s staff appeared. “Could you show us to a private room, please? And have Ms. Fullerton’s luggage sent to that room?”
“Of course, Mr. Hamilton,” came the respectful reply. “Please follow me.”
I needed to talk to Lucien. Wrapped up in his arms, it had temporarily receded from my thoughts, but Alexander had been in Paris two years ago when I’d killed Ivan Klimov and he was here at Madame Lorraine’s auction. There were no coincidences.
In order to survive the next three months, I had to forget that I was a trained killer and pretend that I was only an object of desire. But before that, I needed to warn Lucien. I didn’t know what Alexander had been doing in Paris two years ago. Lucien needed to start digging. “Sir,” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone deferent, “please may I go to the ladies room?”
He gave me a pointed look. “Sir in a session, Alexander otherwise,” he reminded me. “And you don’t really need to ask permission to go to the bathroom. That’s ridiculous.”
Maybe it was ridiculous. But nothing I’d experienced before in my life had prepared me for this situation and I was floundering. I nodded silently and walked away. I felt his gaze on me the entire time.
***
In the lobby, I made my way to the coat-check where I had surrendered my purse earlier in the day. The attendant, another beautiful Thai girl, saw me come and reached for it for me. “Thank you,” I said gratefully, impressed she’d remembered which purse was mine. Then again, maybe the other women had sleek designer handbags. Mine was a cloth satchel, bought on Khao San Road two days ago.
I half-walked, half-ran towards the bathrooms. No stalls in this luxurious club. Each bathroom was a separate area, complete with toilet, sink, and full-length mirrors. I gave thanks for the privacy as I groped through my bag, looking for my phone and dialing Lucien’s number when I found it.