Chapter Six
Penny looked up at the unassuming building in front of her. “This is some sort of sex club?”
Damon smiled at her, right back to his charming self. It was as though he’d never yelled at her, never threatened her. How could she trust a man who could look so perfect? “It’s my home. I live in apartments on the sixth floor. It’s only a sex club four nights a week.”
“It sucks, Knight. Charlie wants me to put plants all over Sanctum now. I knew this trip would blow.” Ian Taggart was a big man who seemed to hate everything. He’d been especially mad that they were late getting to the station, and then he and Damon had a private talk while she bought a few items for the night at Boots and he’d been even angrier when she’d returned.
Apparently Basil Champion had enemies on both sides of the pond.
Damon stepped forward, pulling out a keycard and slipping it through the reader on the door. “I can’t help it if my club is better than your club, mate.”
This Taggart person was apparently a Dom as well. He was massive and so fit it hurt to look at him. His face was gorgeous, but the man himself seemed so dark she was a little afraid of him.
“Your club is not better. You just have time to garden and shit,” Taggart said irritably. She moved out of his way to let him enter, but he stopped, his eyes narrowing on her. “Are you nervous about going in? Expecting to be shot?”
“Tag?” Damon asked.
Taggart shrugged. “I expect to be shot all the time. I don’t understand why she thinks I’m going to go first unless she wants me to get killed instead of her.”
“Of course not,” she said, shocked he would think that.
Taggart loomed over her. “Submissives go first unless there is some kind of danger and then I would absolutely be murdered before you. I would go first and Damon would protect your back. We’re safe in the club, so you go first. You need to train her better. She’s been running wild all afternoon.”
“Running wild?” She didn’t see how anyone could accuse her of that.
“Yes. You nearly got lost in the crowd at the station. You just walked off. That would have been a time for you to stay between us. You charged through and didn’t pay attention when I tried to open the door for you, and I didn’t like the way you constantly walked on the road side of the sidewalk. You’re not my sub, but I don’t buy for a second that you and Damon are involved. Otherwise, you would have let him take care of you.”
“I was hard on her when Baz showed up so I let it go,” Damon said, but it was easy to see he was embarrassed.
And looking back, she could see he’d tried. He’d herded her away from the street several times. He’d tried to get in front of her at the station. She’d wanted to prove that he hadn’t really hurt her. She’d been stubborn, and he was trying to protect her.
He was brutally confusing.
She entered the club first, ready to see a real look into Damon Knight’s soul. This was his private sanctuary. He ran the club when he was in the country and had a manager when he was out. He lived here and played here.
The lobby was lovely but a bit bland. It was nothing she hadn’t seen in a nice hotel. She was disappointed. She’d expected to see his dirty side. She’d expected whips and chains and those St. Andrew’s Cross things. She didn’t like to think about just how interested she was in those.
If the last twenty-four hours had taught her anything, it was that she had to climb out of her shell. She couldn’t pretend like sex wasn’t important. She was tired of her existence. It wasn’t a life. For years she’d been a slave to duty. It was time to figure out what she wanted. She wanted love and intimacy. She wouldn’t find that from Knight. But she might figure out what she wanted from a lover.
Damon locked the door behind them. “When we’re running, we have someone working the front desk. We don’t open again until Wednesday night, so we have a few days for you to get used to the club and everything that goes with it.”
“All right. So we’ll practice a bit before we’re on display, huh?” There were no windows. The place was lit with tasteful wall sconces and recessed lights. It was plain. Ordinary.
Vanilla. Wasn’t that the word they used?
Taggart walked to a carved wooden door that required another keycard. Naturally Damon would be paranoid about security. Taggart slid his card through and the door opened. He turned to her with a pointed stare as he held the door open. “I should warn you both that Charlie’s been a brat and she’s being punished, though she doesn’t really view it as punishment. It’s really more like I’m getting something out of it.”
She was about to ask what kind of punishment his wife had earned when she walked through the door and into the club.
She stared, her mouth dropping open. She’d expected salacious, something a bit smutty. She hadn’t expected beautiful.
The entire space was covered in rich, green plants. The floor in the lobby had been a plush carpet, but now it gave way to a natural stone walkway that wound around the showroom.
She was Alice and she’d just fallen into Wonderland.
“The light is all natural.” Damon walked up behind her, his voice hushed as though this was a sacred place to him. “It comes through the ceiling. The building itself is rectangular, but when I bought it, I had the atrium built in to accommodate the garden. The floors above all look down on the dungeon.”
It was magical. She walked up to a large tree that was just right in the middle of the dungeon floor. She touched it, running her palm along the trunk, making sure it was real. “It’s beautiful, Damon.”
“It’s a pain in the ass. My Dom in Residence would quit if I told him he had to take care of a bunch of trees.” Ian Taggart shook his head and walked away.
Damon pointed around the space, showing her where the entrances and the exits were. She watched as Taggart went up the lift toward the guest quarters.
“Wait until you see it at night,” Damon said. “All the flowering plants are night bloomers. When the moon is full, the entire place is alive with blooms. It’s quite lovely. During nice weather, I open the dome at the top and let fresh air in.”
She’d known he was wealthy, but this place put her so far out of his league it was ridiculous. Just buying a building in Chelsea would have cost more than she would make in a lifetime, but the renovations he’d done had to be in the millions. “How could you afford this?”
He stared up at the massive skylights that apparently moved like a stadium dome. The sun lit the planes of his face, touched his hair, making it shine. “My parents left me with quite a bit when they died. What my guardians didn’t manage to blow through, I spent on this place.” His eyes came down, hooded, cautious. “I really did sink almost everything I have into The Garden. I’ve got a comfortable income, but I’m not fabulously wealthy like my father was. My guardians spent the majority of it.”
She hadn’t pried into his life. Though she’d always been fascinated by him, it felt like an invasion of his privacy to read his files. Not that he’d given her the same courtesy. “When did your parents die?”
“I was seven.” He walked the edge of the room, running his hands through the thick vines that covered the walls. “I went to my grandfather in Scotland for a while. He died. Then I went to a cousin who paid for a series of nannies and boarding schools. By the time I was ready to go to university, the money was almost gone. I took what was left and put it in investments while I went into the Army. By the time I got out, I could afford this place.”
The military part she did know about. Damon had not only gone into the Army, he’d been decorated for valor in military actions in both Sierra Leone and Afghanistan. By the time he’d been sent to Afghanistan, he’d been Special Air Service, a commando. He’d been recruited to SIS from there. He’d spent his entire adult life as a soldier of some sort. He wasn’t ready to give it up. Though she’d hated the way he’d talked to her, she could understand it on some level. He didn’t think he had anything else to offer the world except his skills as an operative.
She followed him, watching his every move. Now that she wasn’t completely distracted by the beauty of the place, she could see that there were small staged areas among the natural settings. The St. Andrew’s Crosses were placed strategically around the room. There were several spaces with dungeon-looking apparatuses, and in the back she saw something that looked like a lounge with a large, decadent-looking bar dominating the space. “It seems like a lot of room for just one man. I know you have the club here on the bottom, but there must be ten floors.”
“Only six. And I don’t live alone.”
“Oh.” Did he have a girlfriend here? That stopped her in her tracks. She knew he’d do just about anything for a mission, but she hadn’t considered that he would compartmentalize so thoroughly that he could bring in a partner he was going to sleep with when he had a woman living with him.
He stared at her for a moment. “You don’t think much of me, do you? I don’t keep a wife or a sub here. I meant I have a friend who runs the club when I’m not around. Like Taggart, I have a Dom in Residence. His name is Reg and he keeps his two subs with him. They’re poly. I’m sure that will make you think less of me, too.”
She stopped. He was doing it again. She’d begun to notice just how good he was at manipulating her. She was pretty sure he did it to everyone around him. He wasn’t a man who just faced a relationship issue head on. He tried to sneak around them to get his way without having to compromise. He was so beautiful, and he controlled his world with an iron fist. She wondered if anyone ever even thought to challenge him. It was right there—the instinct to apologize, to try to make the gorgeous, distant man feel better, but she pushed it aside. “It doesn’t bother me at all. As long as everyone is consenting adults, I think they should do as they please. You’ll have to try again.”
“Try again?”
“Yes. You’re manipulating me in to giving you some outcome you want. I would rather you simply asked. I don’t like manipulations.”
A bitter laugh came from his mouth. “Then you’re in the wrong business.”
“Perhaps,” she allowed. “I never meant to leave the confines of my desk. It’s much simpler there. I understand that you might have to manipulate situations in your job, but I’m not your job. I’m supposed to be your partner, but I think you telling me that was another manipulation. You’re very good at using the right words to get the intended outcome. I’m not your partner, am I?”
“No.”
“I’m a prop.”
He frowned, his eyes finding hers. “You’re upset that I was hard on you.”
She understood why he’d been hard on her. He’d been in the moment and he hadn’t had time to figure out how to ease her in to giving him what he wanted. She didn’t like it, but it had pointed out the reality of her situation. “No, I’m simply trying to get to the truth of the matter.”
“You were hurt that we were intimate and then I was mean to you.”
“Of course. I’m female. I’m rather inexperienced. Sex was definitely the right way to manipulate me. If the incident with Mr. Champion had occurred a few days down the line, after you’d gotten me into bed, I likely would have brushed it away because I would have been so eager to continue the relationship.”
Those gorgeous lips turned into a sullen pout. Unfortunately, it didn’t make him any less attractive. “But of course you’re not now.”
“Well, now I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not a relationship. It was foolish to pretend it was.” But she had. It had only been a day since she’d accepted his offer and she’d been daydreaming about having him around.
“So I’ve made you angry and you’re going to shut down the operation.”
That was at the heart of it. This was his operation, the one that would get him back in the field, the one that proved he could still handle himself, that he was still a man.
“No. I’m going to continue because I read the file and it’s important that we succeed. I’m going to continue the operation and your training for a variety of reasons.”
A single brow arched over gray eyes. “Oh, I would love to hear your reasons.”
This was the part she’d decided on the train ride. She’d analyzed the situation and come to a couple of conclusions. She couldn’t walk away, but she intended to get something out of it. “One, because it’s important for the mission. You’re right. We do have to look the part, and that means I need to learn to be a proper submissive.”
“Very logical. And your other reason?”
Ah, the harder part to admit. But she was done with hiding behind books. “Because I think I might like it. Because I would like to explore this lifestyle and perhaps at the end of this mission, I could meet someone who could help me continue my journey. You were right about a few things. I do let people walk on me. I want to feel better about myself so I can stand up. I’m not a bad person. I’m actually quite good, and it’s time I started asking for what I want. That’s what all this business is about at the heart of it. It’s about communication and trust. I want those things, Mr. Knight. I crave them. So I’m going to make you a new deal. I will stay on and learn your ways and you will give me access to the place after we’re done.”
“So you can find a bloody Dom?” The question came out on an angry huff.
“Why shouldn’t I? Am I not worthy of one?”
He stalked toward her, crossing the space in long, lean movements. “Now who’s manipulating whom? I had my hands inside your cunt not three hours ago, and now you’re asking me to find you another man?”
She was quite shocked at the vulgar word coming out of his mouth. He’d used dirty language around her but there had been tenderness to it. He was angry now, and he wasn’t trying to hide it. Penelope started to take a step back, but if she’d learned anything at all today it was that she needed to stand her ground if he was ever going to think of her as anything but a prop. “You did that because you wanted to establish our cover. Don’t act like you’re hurt because this is all about the mission.”
He stopped about a foot away, and just for a moment she thought he might explode. Just for a moment she thought he might need to, but he calmed, soothing out the rough edges of his expression and he was silky smooth again. She could already see him thinking, working up another strategy. “Of course. I’ll show you the rest of the place and then you can get started. I’ve arranged for us to spend the early evening with Charlotte and Ian and their friends. You can meet the crew and get used to them. I need to go and call Nigel.”
“You’re going to tell him about Champion?”
“Yes.”
But he wouldn’t tell him why he hadn’t brought him in. He wouldn’t mention that he’d passed out from lack of oxygen and a possible heart problem.
Should she make a call of her own?
They had some time. She could think about it. It wasn’t her place to worry about him. He’d made that plain. It was her place to do her job and that was to give him cover and translate what he needed her to.
“How are you going to explain the CCTV tapes? Surely he’ll see them.”
“I’ve already handled it,” he replied. “Taggart’s team includes its own tech. He called and she’s already broken into the feed at Liverpool station. I believe they’ll find that portion of the tape has damage to it. They won’t be able to view it.”
“How could she do that?”
“She’s quite good. I don’t ask tech how they do what they do. I just expect them to do it.” He was quiet for a moment. “I was trying to protect you.”
Finally something real. She’d heard him talking to his enemy. After she’d walked off, she’d stayed behind the wall and listened. Basil Champion was a horrible person who had tried to use her against him.
“Did you believe him? What he said about me? Not the part about me being a slag.”
His face went red, and she watched as his hands twitched. “I’ll kill him for that.”
“It’s fine, Damon. It was a refreshing change actually. Usually when people insult me it’s about the fact that I can’t get a date, not that I’m a dirty whore.”
“Like I said, I’ll kill him.”
She shook her head. She’d immediately understood what Champion was doing, but it seemed to have eluded Damon. “They’re just words. And he didn’t really mean them. He was doing the same thing you do. He was manipulating you. He was trying to get you as angry as possible so you would make a mistake. I meant did you believe him when he talked about me being dirty in a non-sexual way?”
He’d claimed he didn’t believe she could be working for The Collective, but had he really believed it?
He laughed, a release of tension. “No. Not for a second. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s that you’re not the betraying type.” His eyes focused on her again. “It’s why I want you.”
“For the mission.”
He remained silent, his look telling her what he wanted her to know.
If only she could believe him, but he was so good at giving a person what they wanted. If she was going to get out of this with a whole heart, she had to guard it herself. “I’d like to see the rest of the place.”
He gestured to the lift. “Of course.”
She followed him, wishing the lift was slightly larger because she was so close to him their fingers touched.
She forced herself to move away, not trusting that she wouldn’t hold his hand.
* * * *
Twenty minutes later, he’d shown her the guest floor. He walked beside her, putting off the time when he would have to tell her that she wasn’t staying on this floor. He didn’t want another argument. Since her pronouncement that she wanted to explore BDSM and find her own Dom, she’d been talking about all the ways they could pretend to be a couple without actually having sex.
Like he was going to allow that to happen.
The trouble was his charm wasn’t working. She seemed to see right through it. There had been a moment down in the dungeon when he’d been sure she’d seen right through him, past all his defenses, right down to the fact that he was still a lonely boy who’d been left to fend for himself.
It was pathetic.
“The common rooms are just ahead,” he explained.
“I’m sure they’re lovely. Everything is lovely, Damon.” Her eyes glowed with pleasure, and he wondered how difficult it had been for her in that tiny town house where everything had been utilitarian and drab. Even her bedroom had been spartan, with just a bed and a dresser and a well-organized bookshelf. He’d gone with the clean-up team himself because he’d wanted to see where she lived. Yet again, Penelope Cash proved elusive because he was sure that tiny dull room wasn’t who this woman was on the inside.
And he’d been right because she delighted in the theater of his home. She’d looked around the dungeon with wonder, and he’d wished they were here for different reasons. He’d love to chase her through the garden, catch her, drag her to the soft earth and hear her gasp when he penetrated her.
The woman might just drive him mad.
They were interrupted by raucous laughter coming from a large living area.
“Come along,” Damon said, his tone still serious. He’d been meticulously polite, showing her his building and explaining how it worked. There was a whole floor of offices and a large conference room where they would all meet tomorrow to go over the particulars of the mission. The second and third floors were part of the club, including privacy rooms for members who preferred to play without eyes upon them. The time they had spent together had been awkward, with none of the seemingly easy intimacy from before.
He wanted that back so badly, and he couldn’t even fool himself in to thinking it was all about the operation. He’d enjoyed the day with her.
Then Baz had shown up and it had all gone to hell. He showed her into the guest lounge where Tag and his crew were gathered. “Good evening, everyone. I’d like you to meet the last member of our crew. This is…”
“Pen? Good god. He didn’t tell me your name, just said he’d found someone who would work.” Simon Weston stood up, his handsome face smiling with obvious shock.
And Penelope—shy, retiring Penelope—squealed like a schoolgirl and flew across the room, practically jumping into the bugger’s arms. “Simon, it’s so good to see you!”
He chuckled and pulled her up into a bear hug. “You, too, love. I’m so sorry I left like I did. I didn’t even say good-bye.”
“So you know each other then?” It was an understatement. They obviously knew each other. Perhaps quite well. The idea of Simon bloody Weston getting his overly aristocratic hands on Penelope made him want to shred the bugger. He and Simon had worked together for two years, though Damon never spent a lot of time with him. Simon had worked undercover most of his career, using his society connections to move easily in the business and social worlds.
Penelope turned but kept her arm around Simon’s waist. “When he worked for SIS, we were paired for a few cases. I translated for him.”
“She was fantastic. An amazing code breaker. I was working with the Agency on a terror cell in Malaysia. Pen here didn’t even speak the bloody language, but she cracked the code in forty-eight hours.” The bastard kept his arm around her shoulder, winking down at her.
Penelope’s smile nearly lit up the room. It was good she was happy with someone. “It was a fairly simple code.”
Damon had worked with her a few times as well. He knew how competent she was, but he’d also been smart enough to stay away from her. She’d been engaged at first and then she’d had trouble and then…well, then he’d been almost dead.
The truth was he likely never would have approached her because he knew how dangerous his life could be. And he knew how much she would need from a man. Commitment. Tenderness. Things he wasn’t sure he could give her.
“She helped out when I worked at United One Fund, too.” Simon looked down at her affectionately. “She’s being humble. Don’t believe her. She’s fabulous.”
Damon had worked that particular op as well. Simon had been undercover for a suspected arms dealer who was running a charity as a front for his illegal activities. Now that he thought about it, Nigel had assigned Penny to work on the man’s code, which she’d discovered was buried in letters from potential donors. Simon had f*cked up the op, and he’d hired on with Ian.
Simon hugged her again, pulling her up so her toes didn’t touch the ground. “It is so good to see you.”
“You can unhand her now. She can stand perfectly fine on her own.” Damon’s tone held a bite of ice.
Simon eased her to the floor, still chuckling. “And of course I know her, Knight. I made it a point to get to know the girl who made the best biscuits and cakes. I remember she made you a cake. Chocolate, I believe. It was delicious. You wouldn’t know. You didn’t even try a bite.”
He’d hoped no one had noticed. He was allergic to gluten. That sounded stupid. It was just another bloody weakness. Naturally Simon lasered in on it. Damon was pretty sure the man blamed him for the reprimand that led to Simon leaving SIS.
“It’s fine. Not everyone likes cake.” Penelope smiled brightly, obviously trying to defuse the situation. She turned to the rest of the room. “Hello again, Mr. Taggart.”
“God, that makes me sound old. Call me Ian or bastard or son of a bitch. I answer to them all.” Taggart was sitting in a big wingback chair looking like a king on a throne, and there was a naked woman with strawberry blonde hair at his feet. So that was Charlotte’s punishment. He waited to see how Penelope would take it. None of the others in the room seemed even vaguely distracted by the fact that their boss’s wife wasn’t clothed, but Penelope wasn’t used to the lifestyle.
“Hello.” She nodded and smiled, but he could sense the shock in her.
Charlotte grinned up at her. “Hey. How’s it going? Sorry about the way-too-much-of-me part. I mouthed off and this was how Ian chose to punish me.”
“Yeah, because you’re so not an exhibitionist, baby.” Taggart petted his wife’s hair and suddenly didn’t look like he wanted to murder everyone around him.
The only other female in the room walked with a slight limp. Chelsea Dennis was dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly chilly. She gave Penelope a tight-lipped smile. “Hello. I’m the non-exhibitionist of the family. That’s my sister, Charlotte. Only Satan calls her Charlie. I’m here to work tech. I’m Chelsea, by the way. And yes, I know. I’m Chelsea in Chelsea. Jesse already made the joke about forty times.”
“I think it’s funny,” Jesse Murdoch, the newest member of McKay-Taggart, said. He was a younger man with sandy blond hair and a ready smile. “Simon finally got into Chelsea, too. He’s been trying really hard for months to get into Chelsea.”
Simon reached out, his hand coming up to slam the side of Jesse’s head, but the younger man was quite fast. He rolled off the couch and was on his feet before the smack caught him.
“I’m so used to that by now.” He reached out, offering her a big hand. “Jesse Murdoch. I’m pure muscle. Like all muscle. How are you doing today?”
He was practically a bloody infant.
“Why don’t you kill him?” Damon asked Simon. He was a bit sick of men touching his sub. Oh, she might be fighting him at the moment, but she was under his roof and his command.
“Ian won’t let me,” Simon replied.
“He’s amusing,” Taggart allowed. “But if he doesn’t stop hitting on another man’s sub, I’m going to throw his ass to the dogs. Mind your manners, PTSD.”
There was a reason he got on with Tag.
Jesse Murdoch smiled down at her, looking impossibly young. “She’s not wearing a collar, boss. And don’t mind the nickname. My PTSD is way better. I haven’t tried to kill anyone in like a year.”
Murdoch was a stray Tag had picked up. He’d been in the military and gotten his arse captured in the Middle East. His unit had been executed one by one and even after he’d been rescued, there had been rumors that he’d turned. Damon didn’t believe it, but he also didn’t want the puppy making eyes at Penelope.
Taggart glared Jesse’s way. “She’s off limits. She’s Damon’s cover and everyone is going to respect that including you, Weston. I don’t care what relationship you had with the girl before. She’s his for the duration of the op. The minute I find one of you f*ckers poaching, I’ll let Damon have you, and he’s not as forgiving as Sean. I told you that story and this one will not end the same way.”
Murdoch held his hands up. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I certainly can. I can also viciously murder him and bury the body,” Damon muttered.
“Damon!” Penelope said, frowning his way.
Tag laughed. “Oh, shit, man. They’re serious when they say your name with just the right amount of indignation. American accent. British accent. It’s all the same pissed-off wife.”
Penelope flushed. It was his turn to smooth over the situation. And how better to diffuse an awkward situation than by bringing up bad news?
“Did you explain that Baz is back?”
Charlotte’s head came off her husband’s lap. “I am going to kill that f*cker. I’m going to tear his balls off with my bare hands, and then I’ll shove them down his throat.”
Tag put a hand on her hair, gently moving her back down. “You’re so sexy when you’re violent. Down, Charlie. Down. We have to figure out why the f*ckwad’s here. Jake! Stop watching your progeny make poop and get your ass in here.”
Jake Dean walked in, holding his tablet and frowning his boss’s way. “He’s not pooping. He’s sleeping, and you’re going to wake him up. Hush.”
“Nah,” a feminine voice said from the tablet. “I’m pretty sure he’s doing both, babe. He smells so bad.”
Jake’s face turned tender as he looked down at the screen. “I wish I was there.”
A sarcastic male voice took over. “God, Jake, I don’t know if you do. I swear since he started on solids, I’ve smelled things I never thought existed. Hey, tell Big Tag that I’m sending him those files as soon as I change Tristan.”
“About time,” Tag yelled toward the tablet. “I’ve been waiting for days.”
A loud, healthy cry came from the tablet and Jake frowned. “Now you’ve done it. Bye. I love you guys.” He flicked off the tablet. “Give Adam a break. He’s going into the office every day and he’s had very little sleep.”
Tag shook his head. “He should have thought about that before he decided to have a kid. Now, since you’ve been MIA all afternoon, you missed the news that our special friend is back.”
Jake looked over at Damon. “Are you f*cking kidding me?”
It was time to get settled in because it was going to be a long night. Now that Penelope was here and everyone had an adequate amount of sleep, it was time to start going over the operation and all the shit that went with it. Jesse and Jake were taking positions as crew members and would be leaving to join the boat soon. Simon and Chelsea would work on the boat as well, but wouldn’t join the ship until it docked in Dover.
“I’m afraid not.” He took the seat across from Taggart, another big wingback near the fireplace. Tag looked perfectly happy with a sub at his feet, and the image curled a nasty wedge of jealousy in Damon’s gut. It never had before, but he hated the fact that Penelope was settling in beside Simon on the couch. She was his, damn it. Even if he only had her for the duration of the op, she was bloody well his. “Penelope?”
She looked over at him. “Yes?”
“Your place is here.” He gestured to his lap. “I told you we begin your training now. Come along.”
“You want me to sit in your lap?”
He wished they didn’t have to do this in front of everyone, but he wasn’t about to back down. There was a reason to begin now. It would be easier to get her used to him now than it would be to get on the ship and expect her to fall in with him. And, damn it, he wanted her close to him and away from Weston. He wanted her curled up in his lap, naked, but he’d take what he could get. “Yes. When we’re on board and together, I expect you to be connected to me in some way. You’ll spend the next week watching Ian and Charlotte. We need to look as comfortable as they do.”
She stood, but he could see the trepidation on her face. He waited patiently as everyone resettled. Jake took her former place next to Simon. Chelsea settled in on one of the barstools, but there was no way to mistake where her eyes went. She was looking between Simon and Penelope as though trying to figure out exactly what was going on. If he needed an ally to keep those two apart, he likely had one in her. Jesse got another beer from the fridge and took the last seat, propping his booted feet up on the table in front of him.
Bloody American barbarians.
But he forgot about all of it as a sweet English rose settled herself on his lap. His cock sprang to attention the second he caught her scent. She bit her bottom lip and wriggled around, her soft ass moving and settling in and making him want to f*ck so badly, he thought he might just carry her away and have it done with. Once he’d screwed her a couple of times, he’d be able to think clearly. He’d be able to think about something other than her.
It was only because she’d denied him. Surely that was it. He so rarely didn’t get a woman he wanted, and she was proving a bit elusive.
Stupid bastard. He didn’t just want her. He could attempt to lie to himself but deep down, he knew the truth. He liked her. He wanted her to like him back.
And his cock definitely wanted her to change her mind about the whole no-real-sex thing. His cock was coming up with a hundred different ways to defeat that line of thinking.
She finally settled down, though her back was ramrod straight and she couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
He shifted, forcing her to move, bringing her in closer contact so her head drifted to his shoulder and her legs didn’t dangle off his knees. He brought her fully across his lap, her only option for balance being relaxation and him.
“So let me explain what’s going on with Baz.” He began to speak as Penelope finally let her body go limp in his. He cuddled her close as he explained the situation and everything that needed to happen. About halfway through the conversation, he noticed her even breathing and the way her head was deadweight on his shoulder.
She’d fallen asleep, resting in his arms.
He still had a shot and he was going to take it.
* * * *
Some field agent she was turning out to be. She’d fallen asleep on her partner’s lap and had to be awakened for supper. Damon had been smiling down at her as he kissed her nose and brought her out of a perfectly pleasant dream.
She’d been curled up on him, practically drooling on his shirt. She’d started out very awkward and feeling completely ridiculous, and somewhere along the way the deep sound of his voice and the strength of his arms around her had made her feel safe and warm and she’d just kind of completely fallen asleep.
She was fairly certain she’d blushed all the way through the supper he’d had catered in. He’d ordered her to sit by him, and he’d served her throughout the meal. He’d poured her wine and made sure she had everything she’d wanted. Ian had treated his wife in a similar fashion, though she’d been sitting in his lap the whole time. It had been so weird at first and then it had seemed oddly normal.
It made her wonder what it would feel like to sit in Damon’s lap and let him feed her.
Now she stood in front of the lift trying to process the words he was saying.
“We’re on the sixth floor. We can walk up the stairs if you like, but the lift lets out straight in front of my rooms.”
Yes and that was a problem. “Your rooms?”
A short sigh puffed from his mouth. “Penelope, you knew you would have to sleep with me. It’s best to get it out of the way.”
She took a step back. “I told you I don’t think it’s a good idea to have sex.”
“Good god, do you really think I’m going to jump on you? I’m not going to rape you, Penelope. We have to share a room on the boat. Are you planning on making me sleep on the floor?”
Because he would never, ever allow her to do so. The man didn’t like her walking next to the street when he was around. He wouldn’t allow her to sleep on the floor. If she was stubborn about the sleeping arrangements, it would cost him and not her, and she didn’t think that was a manipulation on his part. She was starting to figure out which parts of him belonged to Damon and which were the agent who refused to fail at a mission.
“No.” She was going to have to do it. She was going to have to lie in bed next to him and pretend she didn’t want to go any further with him.
Because she really did.
Despite what she’d said earlier, seeing him among his friends had shown her a different side to the man. Though he still held himself apart, it was so easy to see that he wanted to belong. Maybe no one else could tell since his expression almost never changed, but there was a way he held himself that let her know when he was feeling out of sorts, apart. She knew because she felt that way most of the time.
Or she could just be fooling herself again.
The lift doors opened, and he gestured her inside. Of course he would. He knew how to play the gentleman, but she wasn’t used to it. He entered behind her and the doors closed.
“What are your thoughts on the possible weapon?” He pressed the button for six.
She might have fallen asleep during the discussion, but at least she’d read the materials. She might not say anything that hadn’t already been said, but she did have some thoughts.
“I’m worried it’s sarin.” Sarin gas was a nerve agent. “This group might be attempting to mimic the 1995 Tokyo subway attacks that killed thirteen people. The cult that organized the attack used very basic means of diffusion. They wouldn’t need to smuggle in more than the gas. It might be difficult to get that on board the boat. They would need quite a bit of it. I know it’s lethal, but it dissipates quickly. And why would they need a certain individual? Why not just send the bloke through as a tourist and mail the gas? It could be done.”
The doors opened again. It did seem a bit elaborate when a simple plan was always best.
Damon led her this time, a keycard in his hand. “I have a card for you, too. It’s with your things. My apartments are locked at all times. So is my office. I work in both places. I upped my security after I nearly got killed in my own bloody home.”
The door swung open, but Penelope was caught by the moonlight shining down on the atrium. She stepped up to the railing, turning her head up and then looking down. Even from this height, she could see the flowers had opened. Gorgeous white blooms dotted the dungeon below.
This was Damon’s fantasy. Darkness that brought about light.
“Do you like it?” He was standing behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body, but he didn’t reach out to touch her.
“I love it.” She’d never seen anything like it. Decadent. Beautiful.
He moved to stand beside her, leaning on the railing, his eyes on the dungeon below. “I was trying to protect you. I know I was harsh, but he killed a woman who worked for me. He killed her here. I couldn’t stand the thought that he might hurt you.”
“I understand that.”
“Do you?” He finally turned to her, his hand coming up to brush back her hair. “I don’t think you do. Until you’ve really known violence, you can’t conceive of it. I’m going to try to make sure this all runs smoothly so you don’t have to understand.”
Despite her best intentions, she was back to feeling comfortable around him. It was easy. Somehow, they fit now in a way they hadn’t before, as though his near-death experience had fundamentally changed him. He wasn’t softer, not at all. He was more serious, more willing to look at her and really see her. “Why do you and Simon not get along?”
“A couple of reasons,” he explained. “I ran the op that led to him leaving SIS. He f*cked up and believed the wrong man.”
“You fired him?”
“No. Nigel reprimanded him and he quit. I know you’re friends with him and he’s a pleasant enough chap, but he’s led a rather charmed life. He always seemed to me like he was a rich boy playing at being an agent. Tag seems to have toughened him up. He got the jump on me last year.”
She couldn’t imagine anyone getting the jump on Damon, but Simon did seem harder, more dangerous than she’d remembered him. And he’d spent much of the evening staring at the girl with the limp like he could eat her alive.
Her mind flashed back to that moment in the washroom. Damon had tasted her. He’d put his fingers to his lips, the ones he’d brought her to orgasm with, and he’d tasted her.
She was going to sleep beside Damon Knight. Was she really going to hold him off in bed?
She was worried she had to or she would spend the rest of her life mourning him. He was reckless with his own life, dedicated to a career that didn’t offer a lot of longevity. Even if he decided to keep her as a partner, it wouldn’t be love.
Penelope Cash wanted to be loved. Like Charlotte and Ian Taggart. She wanted to know why that ridiculously hard man softened when he looked at his wife. She wanted to know why Charlotte was so comfortable in her skin.
Damon might be able to give her some of what she needed, but he would never love her the way she wanted.
“Have I lost you?” Damon asked, the sweetest smile on his face.
“Sorry. I’m tired.” The day had been exhausting, and she was looking at several weeks of being intimate with a man she shouldn’t give in to.
“Of course. Come on, then. Your things are in my rooms.” He opened the door and allowed her in. “The bathroom is in the back. I’ll use the guest bathroom for now. I’m going to shower. I’ll be in there awhile.”
She nodded and walked through the hall toward the room he’d gestured to. Damon’s inner sanctum was lush and beautiful, like the dungeon. She peeked through an open door and found what had to be his office. Dominated by a huge masculine-looking desk, the office was filled with books. A single light had been left on, and she could see him there working by himself.
She knew she should leave, but she couldn’t help herself. She stepped into the office. There was exactly one picture frame in the entire room. It was sitting on the desk. Penelope moved around so she could get a glimpse of what Damon thought worthy to frame. The rest of the building contained artwork and prints, but this was smaller, more personal.
Her heart clenched a little. It was an old photo. A man, a woman, and a child of maybe four years. The toddler was male and had the most exuberant smile on his face. His arms were up as though this was a kid who embraced everything around him. His parents both had a hand on him, keeping him safe and loved.
God, this was Damon before his parents had died. He’d been adored and protected, and it all had been taken from him in a single day.
What had that been like? Her father had been distant. Her mother had loved her, but never asked for more. And yet she’d always had a support network. Damon hadn’t. He’d been that kid in the photo and then he’d been lost.
A lost boy.
Was he still lost and searching for someone who could bring him home?
It didn’t matter. It didn’t. The tears in her eyes didn’t mean anything. She forced herself out of the room. She made her way to the bedroom.
Decadence predominated. Damon’s bedroom was large and his bed was huge and sultry. She shook her head, trying not to think about all the things he could do to her there.
Her trunk was sitting beside the left-hand side of the bed. He’d left it open. A sense of the familiar washed over her as she knelt beside it. She looked through the trunk but couldn’t find her gowns. She had a dozen or so night shifts, and none of them seemed to be here.
Bastard. No underwear. No gowns.
She sighed. She wasn’t going to be defeated so easily. She’d need to buy more. She went to his dresser and opened a couple of drawers before she found his white undershirts. They would do. She pulled one free and strode to the loo.
Naturally, his loo was larger than her bedroom at home. There was a separate bath and shower. That didn’t happen in London real estate, but she was sure it was normal for Damon Knight. She turned on the hot water, undressed, and stepped in.
Pure pleasure flowed across her skin. Heat suffused her, and she wished she could make worse choices. Damon would be here with her if she wasn’t so f*cking practical. She could be with him if she didn’t overthink absolutely everything.
Penelope quickly washed off, ready to slide in between the sheets and sleep. Tomorrow she would have to figure out what to do, but tonight she would sleep.
After turning off the shower, she dried off and slipped Damon’s shirt over her head, trying not to think about how he smelled. Clean and masculine, with just a hint of spice.
The shirt enveloped her, hitting her just a tiny bit above her knees.
She walked into the bedroom and stopped because she wasn’t alone.
Damon was standing in front of the bed, his hands pulling down the comforter and sheet.
He was completely and utterly and gorgeously naked, his backside on full display. No bum should look that good. It shouldn’t make her mouth water, her insides slide against each other in a long, slow dive to arousal.
“You’re naked.” It might be the dumbest thing she’d ever said. It was obvious he was naked since he wasn’t wearing any clothing. His cock had been laying against his muscular thigh, but the minute he’d turned and looked at her, it had started to rise.
“It’s how I sleep.” He seemed to ignore his dick, pulling the sheets down and fluffing the pillows. He drew them back and moved onto the bed, his body long and lean on the perfectly white sheets. He laid his head against the white pillow, making his hair look even darker than before. He didn’t bother to cover his body. All of it—from his perfect hair, to his ridiculously cut chest, to a six-pack to die for, to his muscular legs—were on display.
She couldn’t stand there and drool. She moved to the opposite side of the bed. She noticed he’d taken the side closest to the door. To protect her.
God, he was so hard to resist. He was an obnoxious mix of perfect man and selfish child. “You can’t go to bed like that.”
His eyes narrowed, staring at her. “You keep telling me all the things I can’t do. I don’t like it. Do I need to remind you that I’m in charge? I’m the senior agent. I’m the Dom. You’re the sub. If you can’t remember that, we’re going to have a serious problem.”
He was in charge. He was in charge of her. She couldn’t help it. It did something for her. The fact that he wanted to be responsible for her actions, her life, meant something. But it didn’t mean he loved her.
One week of training. Sixteen days on the boat. She would hold his hand while they searched for the bad guy. She would have about a month with him and then they would go back to their normal lives. He would smile her way every now and then and she would do her work and go home to a nameless, faceless flat where she didn’t know anyone around her and no one cared about what she did or said.
Penny slid into bed, drawing the sheet and blanket around her. She turned on her side, but it was the wrong side because she could plainly see Damon laid out like god’s gift to women. And he obviously wasn’t cold.
She couldn’t help but stare at his male parts. His cock. His balls. They were just right there. His cock was as big as she’d imagined it. It was flush against his abdomen.
“Sorry. I took a cold shower. I tried to get it to die down.” He might say all the right things, but he didn’t pull the sheet up. He lifted his hips and let his legs lay open. “But the minute I saw you, it just had its own ideas. I want you, Penelope. I can’t help wanting you. Go to sleep and we’ll deal with everything tomorrow. You want to stay pure. We’ll see how that goes.”
She turned to the other side. She wouldn’t give in.
No matter how much she wanted to.