Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

P iper slipped into a stunning, vintage black cocktail dress. Its fit and flare design accentuated her figure and the mid-calf length only emphasized her long, shapely legs. The entire dress was covered with netting that had beautiful textured floral appliqués.

"Piper, that's gorgeous," said Mariah as her friend emerged from the bath.

There was a knock at the door and Mariah opened it to find the concierge holding a garment bag as well as a shopping bag that contained a boot box and silk stockings. Mariah tipped him as she tossed the bag on the bed and removed her robe to put on the stockings. Then she unpacked the boots onto the bed.

Piper laughed. "No fair. I'm stuck in heels, and you get to wear flat lace-up boots."

"Wait until you see the dress. The one for the opening is appropriate black-tie gear—perfect for Oliver Halsey's artist daughter. But this one is all me. I wish I could get into it by myself, but it has a corset top, so you're going to have to help." She unzipped the bag with a flourish.

Piper gasped. "Oh my god!" she cried.

"I know. Isn't it just perfect?"

Piper touched the dress with reverent awe. "It is, and it is so you. You are going to knock their socks off."

Mariah began to put on her dress and Piper helped, proving she had more than a passing knowledge of laces and how to tighten a corset properly. Mariah put her hair in a messy updo with lots of tendrils and curls cascading down around her shoulders. She and Piper stood next to each other in front of the mirror. Piper looked like a prim and proper mid-century partygoer and Mariah looked like she'd just come back from a punk rock all-night party. They were perfect.

"My mother sent my grandmother's little clutch with me. Why don't I put your stuff in it, too, so you won't have to bother carrying something," Piper offered.

"Perfect, thanks. It's not too over-the-top, is it?"

"No way. You are the epitome of the bohemian artist. I love it."

Mariah put on a simple pair of drop earrings made of titanium and diamonds.

"Do I even want to know what those are worth?" asked Piper.

"Monetarily? I have no idea. Sentimentally? Priceless. My dad gave them to my mom the night she hosted her first big party at our estate. She gave them to me the night of my first opening for luck. Now, whenever I'm feeling out of my element, I put them on. Big openings like tomorrow night don't get to me anymore but these kinds of swanky, intimate things?" Mariah shook her head. "I don't want to do anything that'll hurt the charity."

"You won't. People love your work. It's thought-provoking and insightful. My father's idea of modern art is Charles Remington, but he finds your stuff, and I'm quoting here, ‘evocative, sensual and powerful.' Did you know we have two of your pieces? One is in the main gathering room where we hold parties and the other is upstairs in my parents' bedroom."

"Seriously? Well, I'll be damned. I feel downright honored," said Mariah, giving her friend a hug. "Now let's get the hell out of here."

They headed out into the hall and then downstairs, where they were to meet with Jed, Kat, Skylar, Travis, Abriana and Micah. They were to ride together in the limo sent by the London pack to take them to the townhouse in Knightsbridge.

S imon entered his home in the Cresswell Place Mews. He loved it here. In the heart of the trendy and always chic Chelsea neighborhood, everything he could need or want was in easy walking distance and yet the mews offered a quiet retreat from the world.

He went into his office and checked his email and work schedule—nothing too exciting there, although there was a note from his assistant saying the big bosses were requesting his presence at a meeting in the morning with Oliver Halsey. Curious. Simon worked for Lloyd's of London in their Kidnap and Ransom department. He wasn't an insurance underwriter, although that was how he was listed and what his business cards read. Rather, he was an extraction specialist—one of the people who made exchanges of money for whatever—or whoever—was being held ransom.

The note indicated that his assistant Noel needed confirmation of his attendance, so he picked up the phone and made the call.

"Simon," said Noel. "Did you see my note?"

"About the meeting with Halsey? Yes. I'll be there. Do we have a debrief scheduled for the Pescara fiasco?"

"Fiasco? I know it went sideways on you, but..."

"Sideways? Pescara's youngest son was trying to stage a coup d'état . The little pissant was planning to take out his entire family. And still the old man has welcomed him back into the fold."

"Yes, but he has nothing but praise for you."

Simon snorted. "My recommendation is that we drop them as clients. I don't think the murder and mayhem are over in that group. I believe it will get a lot bloodier before it gets better."

"I heard from Jemson's assistant that the Pescara policy has been expanded and their premium nearly tripled. The new agreement includes a clause stating that should they find themselves in a similar situation, you or your designee will be assigned to the case. Did Pescara really try to hire you away?"

"Yes, and I told him point blank I have no interest in wearing a target on my back for the rest of my life. Besides, it's too bloody hot and humid in South America. Money seems to trump all other considerations. I want Jemson's word that anyone we send down there has to be briefed by me. So, if we're not doing a debrief, I'll need to sit down and do an after-incident report. A thorough one."

"Jemson's assistant did say that you've been copied in on everything to do with their policy, at the client's request. You have dinner with your family at the Knightsbridge house this evening and the gala for the Hebrides school tomorrow night. I deliberately left your afternoon open for tomorrow."

"You're a good man, Noel. I'm not sure what I'd do without you. Did you send flowers to my mother at the townhouse?"

Noel chuckled. "But of course. White Peonies, Sterling Silver Roses, and Sweet Williams."

"Thank you. Dinner tonight, meeting tomorrow at eleven. I'll be in the office early. I'd like to be able to slip out right after the Halsey thing. I have some things to attend to and then I'll be at the gala at seven."

"Right. Oh, I made some inquiries regarding that missing chap from Tanglewood."

"Anything interesting?"

"Remember when I told you I wanted you to start training me as an investigator?"

"I do and I suspect I'll be looking for a new assistant before too long," said Simon, smiling.

"I'm not so sure. I like working for you, and you keep expanding the parameters of my job. In any event, you've always told me it isn't what you can learn that's important, often times it's what you can't. The chap just seems to have vanished."

"That is interesting. Since technically it isn't work for the company, how about if I meet with you for breakfast at seven. Schedule us both out until nine."

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

He might have to give Noel a push out of the nest. Granted, he was hands-down the best assistant he'd ever had, but he was a young man and ought to be thinking ahead and making plans for his future. If Noel couldn't find out anything about the missing young man, it meant someone had taken great pains to hide their tracks. Simon thought about taking the stairs up to his master suite on the third floor but decided that after a day spent in the saddle playing polo, he'd opt instead for the small vintage elevator behind the kitchen.

Simon was expected at his family's gorgeous Knightsbridge townhouse this evening for a cocktail party and dinner. Tomorrow night would be a charity event for a hard-hit school in the Hebrides. The gala was sponsored by the Lloyd's and would feature Mariah Halsey's sculptures made out of various metals. Simon thought her work was compelling, original and extraordinary—he had one of them in his main sitting room downstairs. Normally he wasn't fond of sculptures, especially modern ones, but this piece had spoken to him on a very visceral level. It was of a polo pony in full charge, heading down the field. No rider was depicted, but it had reminded him of Oz.

Simon stripped out of his clothing and tossed everything except his boots into the hamper. Standing naked in his closet, he quickly spritzed his boots with leather cleaner and wiped them down. He'd need to do a more thorough cleaning later, but at least he'd removed the mud and sweat from the Italian leather. Simon remembered going with Abriana to buy them. She was a beautiful she-wolf but had been called to another. Micah Grainger, the son of Dylan and Skylar, who was now head of the Calon Onest pack.

He should probably think about doing laundry sometime this weekend as well. It was one of those things he hated asking his housekeeper to do. His mother often pointed out to him that if he still lived at Tanglewood Castle, all of that would be taken care of. He didn't like to remind her that he and his father had been at odds for years. Because of the nature of his job at Lloyd's, he preferred to keep his business life separate from the pack. How he would handle things when he finally took on the mantle of alpha remained to be seen.

Stepping into his bath, he reached into the shower to turn on the water to allow it to heat. Then he switched the lever to steam. He stepped into the enclosure and for the flash of a moment, he was certain he could detect the fragrance of peonies. Just the briefest whiff, and then it was gone. As with most alpha male wolf-shifters, his first breath had been filled with that aroma. It was said that the fragrance was the unique scent of his fated mate. He had already determined whoever she was, he planned to make short work of claiming her. He'd spent most of his life believing it was a myth or a fairytale, but after watching what happened to Abriana and Micah, he was growing increasingly restless to find his own fated mate.

The dreams of pursuing her were becoming more frequent.

He could hear her laughing as she ran through the maze at Tanglewood. She had left their bed still dripping his seed, and he wanted her back there. She'd shifted before he'd realized what was happening and bounded out of the bedroom and over the balcony railing. Once she'd reached the entrance to the maze, she'd called to him before disappearing into the greenery. Simon had no choice but to follow her. He swore he'd make her regret her teasing once he got hold of her.

After shifting, he pursued her as a wolf, closing the distance between them quickly. At the center of the maze was a gazebo, surrounded by a circular pond. A footbridge across the water led to the steps of the gazebo and Simon bounded across it, shifting back when he saw her gliding through the air on a swing.

This time she would pay for her willful rebellion. He'd catch her and turn her magnificent ass a bright shade of red before putting her on her knees and taking her then and there. Back and forth she swung, glorying in the moonlight, her head thrown back in laughter.

As he approached, she launched herself at him and he caught her in his arms, drinking in her laughter and the sweet smell of her arousal. She was a naughty mate. But she was his and he would make her surrender to him. He tossed her over his shoulder and walked to one of the curved benches along the walls of the gazebo. Her breath became audible, another sure sign of her arousal. He sat down and positioned her over his knee, trapping her legs between his. Next he pinned her down by placing a hand between her shoulder blades to ensure her buttocks were the highest part of her body.

He spanked her ass, covering her cheeks so swiftly that heat and sensation vied for supremacy. She struggled and growled, causing him to move his hand from her scapulae to the nape of her neck, fisting her hair and giving it a sharp tug.

"You don't growl at me," he snarled as he continued to pepper her backside with short, sharp, swats that left her moaning.

She wriggled and squirmed, trying to avoid his discipline, but he would have none of it. She was going to learn to stay where he placed her. He smacked her ass relentlessly, enjoying the way her skin began to color. It was clear even in the moon's pale light. He spanked her until she cried and had given over completely, sagging against his thigh.

Finally, he stopped and flipped her over, pulling her up onto his lap. His mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue pushing past her lips and teeth to slide and twist with hers. Her stiff nipples rubbed against his chest, and he could smell her growing scent of arousal even more strongly than before.

He stood, turning her toward the bench. "Hands on the seat, legs spread."

Reaching between her legs, he smiled at the obvious fact that her spanking had more than readied her for his possession. His mate wasn't just wet, she was soaked. She gasped and her climax washed over them both as he shoved himself to the end of her sheath in a single stroke. He tightened his hands on her hips, drew back, and slammed in again.

Heat and pleasure surged through his system. His balls were hard, and he knew he wouldn't last long. He'd fuck her hard and fast here and then take her back to their bed for more. If she behaved well, he wouldn't carry her hoisted over his shoulder with her very red bottom on display for everyone to see.

He began to fuck her with a raw and primal passion only she could elicit from him. With her he was not the civilized, sophisticated wolf everyone believed him to be. With her he was free to be the primitive, feral alpha he was in his soul.

Suddenly her inner walls tightened on him, already trying to milk him for his cum. He smacked her ass. He would have none of it. She would take what he gave her, and he wasn't yet ready to spill himself inside her. He began to pound harder, slamming his pelvis against the warm swell of her ass. Over and over, he withdrew and drove back in.

Her breath was thready and fast and had he not been supporting her, she would have collapsed, but he would continue to hold her and take what was his. Her body tightened in anticipation, and he felt the beginnings of another orgasm stir deep within her. This time she wouldn't come alone. His spine was tingling, and his balls had drawn up tight against his body.

Simon gave her a last, brutal thrust which sent her flying. She called his name and came hard, pleasure crashing around her like a storm-tossed sea against the rocks. He stiffened, holding himself hard against her as his cum flooded and filled her pussy.

Simon shook his head, clearing his mind of the dream, and turned the water temperature to ice cold. There would be no steam shower this night.