Chapter 6

6

Dmitri

Patrick talked me into coming to Abdul’s with him.

“It’s research on restaurant decor,” he said.

“Abdul’s has the best atmosphere of any place in SE,” he said.

“Granddad will be there,” is something he definitely did not say.

I nearly walked out when I saw my grandfather sitting alone at a table set for three.

And then, before I could reach Granddad, I saw them .

Leah. With Gage.

I guess that’s how it’ll be now. The girl I want is dating my boss, the sadistic puppet master.

I’m not sure what makes my feet change direction and deliver me to Leah and Gage’s table. But here I am, smiling a fake smile, holding out my hand to shake Gage’s, and telling Leah she looks nice.

Nice .

She looks like sex and sin. She’s the succubus to Gage’s incubus.

“What a surprise.” Leah sends a quick look to Gage, as if wondering whether he arranged this.

“Yeah.” I can’t stop staring. Her lips are tinted darker than usual. Her bruises are gone, or at least well hidden by make-up.

Her dress looks new. Sexy as fuck. A rich brown that complements her hair, makes her skin glow.

Goddamn, I want her. I want her. I want her .

“You know,” I say, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. It’s totally fine if you want to come back to my place. That hotel can’t be comfortable.”

She sends a panicked look to Gage. Suddenly, I know what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth. “Actually, I’m, um, I’m staying with Gage now.”

“That’s great.” I force a smile, my insides emptying inward like my heart is a black hole. “I’m sure you’re more comfortable there.”

But would she be more comfortable in my arms? With someone she knows? I know her, inside and out. I could love her better.

An awkward quiet descends. Thankfully, Patrick comes up to the table. “Leah, hey.”

“Hey, we keep running into each other.” Looking relieved at the interruption, Leah gestures between him and Gage. “Gage, this is Patrick Aseyev-Hodgkins. Patrick, this is?—”

“Gage Hawthorne.” Patrick’s eyes bug out of his head.

Of course he recognizes Gage. One summer, Danica, Patrick, and I watched several seasons of the show together at my family’s cabin. Rachel was too young, and threw fits about being left out, but that didn’t stop our enjoyment.

“Holy fuck. I mean, nice to meet you.” Patrick stumbles over the words. “Sorry, I recognized you immediately. My little sister is obsessed with your show. Sorry they killed you off.”

I should be happy that Gage looks so uncomfortable, but I’m inwardly cringing. Patrick is a shining example of why Gage never goes out in public.

I nudge Patrick to make him shut up.

Gage pretends to be grateful Patrick recognized him. He talks about how the show is bigger than any one character and it was a privilege to work on it. Blah, blah, blah. Public relations bullshit he was probably coached on after his time with AoG ended.

“So, Leah.” Patrick turns toward her. “Looks like you’re all safe and sound now, huh?”

Her brow crinkles in confusion. “Yeah?”

“And you’re out on a date.”

She frowns harder. “Um, yeah.”

“It’s good to know you’re being taken care of, so Dmitri doesn’t have to worry anymore.” He’s speaking to Leah, but the words are for me.

“Okay, Granddad’s waiting.” I put a hand on Patrick’s shoulder, adding enough pressure to make him step back. “We’ll stop crashing your date. Have fun—it was good to see you two.”

Their server chooses that moment to swoop in and deliver their check. I drag Patrick toward Granddad’s table and whatever bullshit they’re going to try to talk me into.

My stomach is a mess of writhing ropes, and I can barely eat my steak. I keep looking over at Leah and Gage’s table long after they leave.

* * *

Leah

Seeing Dmitri and Patrick was not the way I expected dinner to end, but Gage seems to take it in stride.

It takes me a moment to calm down. I felt…bad for Dmitri. And awkward. At the same time, I could tell he was jealous, and a small part of me liked it. Okay, a big part of me liked it.

He had his chance. He blew it.

Gage and I wait for the valet to return his car. His hand is warm at my back. Is this what a real date feels like? I love it. I feel cared for, like I’m worthy of special plans.

“Are you often recognized?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t go out often. And when I do, the glasses and beard help.”

“Do you need the glasses, or are they a prop?”

“I need them. I wore contacts when I was younger. I loathed them. I tried to convince the director that glasses on an incubus would add more dimension. I failed in that attempt, obviously.”

I want to know more about his time working on Academy of Ghosts , but he’s probably sick to death of talking about it.

I also haven’t searched for him online. I want to know about his past, about the sex tape Danica mentioned, about his reputation…but at the same time, I don’t want to know.

I’m such a freaking coward. This is going to end with my heart breaking. It’s not like I expect any relationship to last, not for me. But when this one ends, it’ll be devastating.

When we get in the car, Gage checks his phone before sending a message. Then he says, “I have one unpleasant thing to mention.”

Already? Shit. We’re not even out of the honeymoon stage. “Uh-oh.”

“It’s not awful. Not for you, anyway. You’ll have the penthouse to yourself tomorrow. I’m attending a funeral in Los Angeles.”

“Oh—I had no idea.” Has he been mourning for days, and he’s just now telling me about it? I know it isn’t about me, but the fact he would hide something so big hurts a little. It also reminds me of where I stand in this relationship. “What happened?”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen the news. One of my castmates from Academy of Ghosts recently died in an accident.”

“Are you…” I hesitate. Getting him to share is difficult. But he brought this up. “Are you okay? Were you close?”

“We used to be.”

He says it in a flat voice. I wait for him to elaborate, but there’s nothing else.

“You know, the penthouse is yours now, too.” He clears his throat, as if uncomfortable. “You can have friends over when I’m gone. If I’m there, I’d like to know in advance if guests are coming. I value my privacy and solitude.”

I still can’t view his penthouse as my place. He mentioned wanting to get my things from Dmitri’s. What would he want with a table that was spit out by the cheapest of discount furniture stores?

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I invite anyone over. Danica is fangirling over the fact I’m dating you, so I’ll wait until she calms down. There’s no one else I trust, at this point.”

“What about Dmitri?” His tone is casual, but I detect a suggestive note.

“Like, to fuck around?” I shake my head. “It’s not like that with him. First, I’m with you. Second, he doesn’t want me like that.”

“Baby girl, he wants you like that. He wanted to tear off your dress and bend you over the table in Abdul’s.” He reaches over to touch my knee, his palm hot through the fabric of my dress. “And to be honest, I would love to watch you two again.”

The thought of Dmitri fucking me turns me on. Ten out of ten. The thought of Gage watching me with Dmitri takes that arousal and turns it up to eleven. The auction night plays through my head all the time—Gage directing the scene, Dmitri and me performing. At the memory, a thrill of excitement and lust ricochets through my body.

Maybe some women would be offended by their boyfriends wanting to share them. I am apparently not one of those women. The thought turns me on. I picture Dmitri taking me from behind, fierce and fast, while Gage sits off to the side, stroking himself while he watches.

Gage’s voice is low and seductive. “You like that idea.”

My body screams yes , but my head is filled with several years’ worth of hang-ups. “I feel like I shouldn’t.”

“Am I making you feel that you shouldn’t?”

“No, not you.” My stepfather’s voice echoes in my head, telling me I’m no good, that if some guy rapes me, it’s my fault because of what I’m wearing. “It’s how I was raised, I guess.”

“I hope you’ll let go of those limiting beliefs. In our relationship, it’s okay to fantasize. And it’s more than okay to act on those fantasies when all parties are safe and give consent.”

“Like that line in the Low Vice paperwork. Safe, sane, consensual .”

“Exactly.” Keeping his hand on my leg, he threads his fingers with mine. “Although I’d add, and it makes Leah happy to that precept.”

My heart. It does a little pirouette in my chest and slowly falls into a dramatic swoon. No boyfriend has made my happiness his priority before. Maybe this is an older guy thing. No…it’s a Gage thing. How did I get so lucky?

Gage navigates us onto Caro Boulevard, but he doesn’t turn off when we reach his building.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“For a drive.”

“Is this where I discover that you’re a serial killer? All that perfection is just a mask?”

“It’s most certainly a mask.” He lets go of my hand to shift the car into a higher gear. Then he returns his hand to my knee, bunching the fabric of my dress to start dragging it upward. He keeps his eyes on the road the entire time. “But I’m not a serial killer, little girl. I do, however, have some depraved leanings. Take off your panties.”

“Right now?” I stare at his profile, incredulous.

“Right now.”

I look out the car windows. Downtown San Esteban is busy, bright with lights and pedestrians, the streets full of cars. With all this light pollution, visibility isn’t hampered in the slightest.

“Don’t hesitate,” Gage says. “Do what I asked. It will please me, and you’ll receive a nice reward if you behave like the good girl I know you are.”

I do want to please him. Face burning at the thought of someone driving past us and seeing, I reach beneath my dress. I lift my hips as much as the seatbelt will allow, and tug down my underwear.

He holds out his palm, wordlessly asking me to surrender the lacy fabric.

I hand them over, horrified when he brings them to his nose and inhales.

“You smell amazing.” He tucks the underwear into his jacket pocket. “These belong to me now.”

“Hey, that’s stealing.” There’s no real protest in my words, though. If he wants them that bad, for whatever pervy reasons, he can have them.

“How about I give you an underwear allowance, hmm, sweetheart?”

“Sure, okay, Dad.”

He laughs. He’s usually so reserved, his bark of laughter surprises me.

Returning his hand to my thigh, he says, “You remember your safe word?”

“Yes, red .” We’re in the car. Why is he asking me about my safe word? Oh. Wait a second. Nervous excitement pools in my belly. What does he have in mind? “Why are you asking? Whatever you’re going to do next might need a safe word ?”

“It won’t hurt, baby doll. But you might be shy or uncomfortable. You can use your safe word for all sorts of things.” He slides his hand higher up my thigh. Surely he isn’t?—

He makes contact with my pussy, his fingers sliding through my arousal.

“Oh.” I sigh and scoot forward to give him better access. “That feels good.”

His fingertips gather my slickness and spread it to my clit, sending arrows of sweet electricity throughout my body. The city moves past us as he drives down Caro. I’m barely aware, although a part of me is shrinking back, afraid that someone will see me in the throes of pleasure.

Gage stops at a red light. He plunges a finger inside me. I brace my feet on the floor boards and lift my hips, seeking more.

“Do you like that, little girl? Does it feel nice and give you little tingles inside?”

“Yes, yes .” I grip his wrist with both my hands, trying to control his movements.

He’s relentless, plunging his finger in and out. “Are you going to come, right here on a busy street? Anyone could look inside the car—these windows aren’t tinted.”

I can’t speak. I’m so close, shuddering around his fingers.

“If you don’t come before the light turns green, little girl, you aren’t going to come at all.”

His fingers continue working magic. My hips buck upward, chasing his touch. I’m so fucking close, so?—

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He pulls his hand away to move the gearshift.

“Nooo!” I grab his forearm—not hard, I don’t want to cause an accident.

“I’m sure we’ll have to stop at another red light.” He grins, glasses reflecting the streetlights beyond the car.

The next light we hit is green. Gage laughs when he looks over and sees me pouting.

The next one we reach is turning yellow. “Slow down, slow down,” I say.

“I can make it.”

“No you can’t?—”

He smirks and slows to a stop. Thank freaking heck.

Gage slides his hands along my inner thigh, straight to my pussy.

I moan in relief. “Yes.”

Another car pulls up next to us, on my side. I risk a peek and see it’s a single driver in the car, a good-looking man who looks to be in his late twenties, early thirties. He gives me a fuckboy grin.

“Did you make a friend, Leah?” Gage plunges a finger inside me again.

I quickly look away from the stranger. “No, Sir.”

“I think you did.” His smile is challenging as he looks past me and makes eye contact with the other guy. “I think you should come, and he should watch.”