Chapter Three
Ivo sat with his head in his hands and didn’t see Desiree walking down the hospital corridor. The police had just left, and now Ivo felt hollow. He felt his friend put her hand on his back and looked up.
“I hit a girl, with my car,” was all he said and Desiree looked distressed.
“Oh, Ivo. Is she okay?”
Ivo shook his head. “I don’t know, they haven’t come to find me yet. The police were in there with her but they won’t let me in to see her.”
Desiree nodded and looked around for a nurse. “Let me see what I can find out, darling. They might be more responsive to a woman. Go get yourself some coffee, and splash some water on your face.”
When he got back, Desiree was talking to the doctor. After a few minutes, she came back to him. “They say the injuries from the accident are not serious. She hit her head, but there’s no sign of brain damage. What’s concerning them is that she’s sick. They think it might be meningitis.”
“Oh, god, poor kid. I can’t believe this. Listen, I actually met her, last night at the swimming pool. We swam together. I mean, we didn’t talk or anything, but it felt like we…I sound crazy. When I saw it was her that I had hit…Jesus.”
Desi rubbed his back. “From what the doctor’s told me, you couldn’t have hit her at speed.”
He shook his head. “No, I was crawling along, Paris traffic. She was having some kind of physical fight and then she fell onto the hood of my car.” He rubbed his eyes. “And you say she’s sick?”
Desiree nodded. “In a bad way, apparently. She’s conscious, but rambling. They don’t know who she is and she won’t tell them her name. It worries me, because without insurance…”
“She doesn’t need to worry about that,” Ivo said immediately, and got up. “Doctor, can I have a word? About the patient…please, I want to cover all the costs.”
The doctor peered at him over his glasses. “You realize it could run into hundreds of thousands of Euros, Mr.…?”
“Zacca. Ivo Zacca. And it doesn’t matter. All costs are to be billed to me. If the patient doesn’t want to say who she is, I’m sure she has a good reason.”
The doctor sighed. “It would help if we knew her medical history but…okay.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s sedated at the moment, but…as she doesn’t have anyone else, I guess it wouldn’t hurt if you sat with her. I will need her permission though.”
“Of course.”
The doctor stepped into the girl’s room and a few moments later, he waved them in. Ivo felt irrationally nervous as he walked into the room. The girl’s skin was wan, almost yellow and she looked doped up to the eyeballs. Ivo smiled at her and pulled the chair up to her bed. Desiree stood back a little. Ivo took the girl’s hand hesitantly. The girl turned to look at him with deepest brown eyes he’d ever seen. Warm. Intelligent. Her hair, so black it was almost blue, fell in soft waves except for the places where it was matted with blood.
“Hey there…how are you feeling?”
She murmured something and Ivo frowned. “I didn’t get that, sweetheart, I’m sorry.”
“Merman,” Sofia said a little louder and Ivo laughed softly.
“That’s right…that’s where we met. I’m Ivo Zacca.”
“Sofia,” she said softly, opening her eyes fully now and looking at him. “I’m sorry I fell on your car. I didn’t mean to. He had my bag, he was stealing my bag…” Her eyes opened a little wider, alarmed. “Where is my bag? Where…” She gave a sigh of relief when Ivo held it up.
“Don’t worry about anything, Sofia, your bag is here. I haven’t looked inside, everything is as you left it.”
Desiree walked slowly to Sofia’s other side. “God, she’s so young.”
Sofia turned her head, fading fast now. “So pretty.” She said, staring up at Desiree who smiled at her.
“Damn right. Sweetheart, do you have any family we can contact?”
Sofia looked back at Ivo, her dark eyes huge, troubled as she shook her head, then groaned at the pain. Ivo and Desiree shared a worried look. “What about your home, darling? Is there anyone there, a roommate?”
“No home.”
Ivo felt his heart shatter. Oh, god, the poor kid. He stroked the back of his fingers down her face. “Can I get you anything, Sofia? Some water?”
“Head is burning,” she mumbled, and her eyes closed. Desiree patted Ivo’s shoulder.
“I’ll go get a cold compress for her head.”
Ivo nodded, not taking his eyes from Sofia. He pressed her little hand to his face. “I’m so sorry, Sofia.”
When Desiree had come back, and they had applied the cold compress to a sleeping Sofia’s forehead, Desi pulled Ivo out of the room. “I know what you’re thinking and I can see it in your eyes. You wanted to play the hero. That girl in there…she’s a street girl. She’s feral. Once she recovers, I’ll bet you any amount, she’ll take off – and probably take your wallet with her.”
Ivo shook his head. “She’s no street girl. Yes, she might live on the streets but it’s not somewhere she’s grown up. Did you see her fingernails, the condition of her hair? I bet you anything, it hasn’t been that long that she’s been homeless. And that accent – she’s American. Probably here illegally which is why she isn’t giving them any details. She has no-one, Desi. Don’t ask me to abandon her.”
Desiree sighed. She had known Ivo long enough to know he would give his last dollar to help someone else. And she wasn’t heartless…she could tell the girl in the hospital bed was in trouble. “Okay. Okay, Ivo, well here’s what we do. When she gets well, you can find her a cheap apartment and I’ll give her a job – off the books. That’s a gift for someone like her, and it’s not legal and we could get into trouble but what the hell.”
Ivo hugged her. “Thank you, Desi, you’re the best.”
She held him at arm’s length and studied him. “Don’t fall for her, Ivo. This isn’t a fairy tale.”
Ivo shifted. Sometimes Desiree could see into him too well. “I know. This isn’t that.”
“Good. Now, will you stay with her for the evening? I can bring some hot food for you both – the swill they serve in these places is not fit for human consumption.”
“You are the best,” he repeated and she smiled.
“You know it. Now, get back in there in case she wakes up. I’ll bring her some clothes – she looks about a size eight, right?”
Ivo shook his head. “I know nothing of these matters, Desi.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ll see you later, Ivo.”
“Bye.”
He went back to Sofia’s side. She was sleeping now, her face more at peace. An i.v. of morphine was hooked up to her arm and he could see her thumb already tensed over the button even in her sleep. Another i.v. of antibiotics was pumping into her veins, healing her – Ivo hoped. He wondered if the receptionist at the pool knew anything about her, then decided that would be overstepping his boundaries. Sofia would tell him about herself if she wanted to – all that mattered was that she got well. She didn’t owe him anything.
Sofia woke two days later with a raging thirst and a head that felt blissfully free from pain. She blinked her eyes a couple of times, adjusting to the light, relieved that it did not hurt her eyes anymore. She breathed in and looked around. A man…the merman, she remembered, had laid his head on her bed and was sleeping, dark shadows under his eyes. Sofia saw his fingers were entwined with hers, and gingerly extracted them. She had fallen, she knew that, and she had felt so sick. Okay, so that explained the hospital bed but why was the merman here?
She studied him. His dark curls fell loose around his head, his skin was live, swarthy, his eyelashes thick and dark. His face was at once both boyish and masculine, his beautifully-shaped lips sensual. She risked stroking her fingers through his soft curls. He was wearing a loose soft cotton shirt, white, and through the thin material she could see the outline of his firm body. She traced a half-moon scar at the side of his eye with his finger and he murmured, shifting. Sofia froze, her fingers still on his skin. He opened his eyes. Ivo, that was his name. He sat up, dopey and out of it. He focused on her face, felt her touching it. He gently pressed her hand to his face with his own, then turned his head to lightly kiss her fingers. It felt nice.
“Good morning, Sofia.” God, his voice, deep and sexy and accented. “How are you feeling?”
She nodded, suddenly shy. “So much better, thank you. I remember you brought me in…I have you to thank for this?”
Ivo shook his head. “I hit you with my car – not deliberately, I assure you, and thankfully not seriously. But you were already sick, the doctor’s say. Meningitis. Hence the motherload of tubes in your arms.”
Sofia looked down and grimaced. Then she noticed she was wearing pristine white pajamas and looked at him a little shocked. He smiled, holding up his hands.
“Don’t worry, the nurses bathed and changed you, not me. I would never disrespect you like that.”
Sofia relaxed a little. His smile made her insides flip and turn with…what? What was this feeling? Ivo tapped a little button along the length of the tube.
“This is your morphine, if you hadn’t guessed. You can tap it when you’re in pain to get more morphine – up to a point, that is.” He grinned at her. “It’s the good stuff, don’t waste it.”
His smile was so infectious that she couldn’t help feeling at ease with him. He couldn’t be that much older than her, maybe six or seven years she guessed, and there was something familiar about him that she couldn’t place.
“I saw you at the swimming pool,” she began, shyly, then as he nodded, she went on. “We had that…we were swimming, together.”
Ivo smiled. “So, it wasn’t me imagining it?”
Sofia shook her head. “No. It’s funny, but it seemed such a natural thing to do. Your form is really good.”
“Thank you, yours too. Do you go there every night?”
She nodded. “Leonie, that’s the sweet receptionist, she lets me swim for free after ten p.m. I get to use the shower and wash my clothes…” She trailed off, feeling embarrassed. She didn’t want this lovely man to think badly of her – he might if she knew he was homeless.
Ivo didn’t react but nodded. “Sofia, you don’t have to tell me anything, but I may be able to help you if you do. You did tell me you had no family. The accent, American, yes?”
She nodded then panicked. “Oh, fuck…fuck…the hospital…they’ll send me back, Ivo, I can’t go back…”
“Ssh, ssh, it’s okay. They don’t know anything and they don’t need to. I’m covering your bills, so.”
“Oh, no, I cannot accept that, Ivo, you’ve been kind enough already.” Sofia felt close to tears. Ivo took her hand and gave her a grin.
“Yeah, I have – remember that time I hit you with my car? Real kind.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled, and she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Look, I will find a way to pay you back, I swear.” She sighed. “I seem to be saying that a lot lately. But please, Ivo, at least let me try.”
Ivo sighed. “Fine, but the first priority is to get well. Anything else is moot until you’re fit and well.”
Sofia laid her head back on the pillow and gazed at him. He really was heart-stoppingly gorgeous. “Who was that beautiful woman who was here? Or did I imagine her?”
Ivo grinned. “That’s Desiree. She’s been sitting with you too, although she does work, unlike me. At the moment, anyway.”
“What do you do when you are working?”
Ivo stroked a lock of hair back over her ear, then seemed to realize it might not be appropriate, and she saw two pink spots appear high on his cheeks. It made her heart clench – vulnerability on the face of this demi-god. He cleared his throat. “I’m an art dealer,” he said.
No freaking way. Sofia’s eyes darted to her backpack, sitting in the corner of the room. Had he peeked, seen her sketches? Was he playing her? Suddenly she felt a little sick. She covered her unease. “Sounds like fun.”
“It is – when we find new artists and developed them. When we don’t, it can be a bit of a drag. Desiree is opening her first major gallery on the Left Bank soon, so I’m over scouting talent for her. Besides, any excuse to spend time in this city is a good one.”
They were still holding hands and for a second they both looked at their conjoined hands, then at each other. Neither made a move to break away.
“What do you do?” He asked her – mostly out of politeness, she knew. He must know she was homeless.
“Back in America, I had just graduated college. Here…I help out on a fruit stall occasionally.” She figured she might as well be honest with him. “The owner lets me sleep under it during the day, so I can be safe.”
“And at night?”
“I find places to get food. Swim. Explore the city. Amazing how different it is at night.”
Ivo nodded and she liked that he didn’t judge her. “I can imagine. Sofia…Desi and I were talking while you were sleeping. She tells me she might have some work…if you’re interested. At the gallery. It might be cleaning or manual labor, or I don’t know what. Maybe even painting. The walls, I mean,” he said with a grin, and Sofia knew that he hadn’t looked in her pack then. He didn’t know she was an artist. Thank god because now she could never tell him. It would seem like…she didn’t want to think what it would seem like.
Sofia closed her eyes for a long moment. She heard Ivo shift his chair closer. “You don’t have to think about it yet,” he said, mistaking her silence for discomfort. “Just get better.”
His fingers squeezed hers. “Do you want to be alone?”
She shook her head. No. She really didn’t. She’d had enough of being left alone and this lovely, gorgeous, sweet man was who she wanted to sit with for a while. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Really, it was like staring at the sun. She swallowed hard, afraid she might be mooning at him. “So, your accent…French?”
He grinned. “Italian. My mother is Italian, my Dad’s American.”
“Ivo Zacca…” Sofia’s memory was jogged by his last name. Her eyes opened wide. “You’re Walter Zacca’s son?”
Ivo grinned shyly. “That obvious?”
“You look like him,” she admitted, “but more like your mother. My mom was a huge fan of your mom’s.”
“Was?”
Sofia felt the familiar pain in her chest but it was so good to be able to talk about her mom to someone “She died six months ago.”
“I’m sorry. Was she sick?”
“Brain aneurysm. Gone in a second. Just like that.” Ouch. The pain never lessened. “I was with her,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. Just gone, Ivo.” She shook her head in disbelief and Ivo squeezed her hand.
“I’m so sorry, Sofia.” He hesitated before placing his palm against her cheek. “No-one should have to go through that. What about your dad?”
Sofia leaned into his touch. It felt so natural to be this intimate with this man, even if he was a virtual stranger. He was so warm, so kind…and he smelled amazing, like warm cotton and spicy cologne. “My biological dad I never knew. My step-father…he threw me out of his house on the day of my mother’s funeral.”
“Asshole,” Ivo spat, his eyes angry. “Who the hell does that?”
“I never saw it coming, Ivo.” God, it was so good to talk about this. “Never. He gave me what my mother had left me and told me to get out. I still don’t understand why. Until my mom died, he was the model father. Then, nothing. Cold as stone.” Sofia gave a heavy sigh and then smiled. “Sorry, wallowing in self-pity won’t help anyone.”
“I think you’re entitled.” His thumb was stroking the back of her hand now, and they gazed at each other for the longest time.
“How is it I feel I know you?” she said, and Ivo grinned.
“I don’t know but it’s weird and good at the same time. I’d like to spend more time with you, but there’s no obligation at all, I want to make that clear. I’m worried I’ll come off as some sort of creepy stalker.”
Sofia laughed. “Well, now you mention it…no, I’m kidding. I’d like to get to know you too.” She stuck out her hand. “Sofia Amory.”
He shook it. “Very glad to meet you, Sofia Amory. I’m looking forward to getting to know you.
She smiled at him, her face flushing. “Me, too, Ivo Zacca. Me too.”
It was two weeks before the doctors would let Sofia leave the hospital. In that time, Ivo had introduced her to Desiree, and between them they had persuaded her to take the job. “But I won’t take charity,” she warned them. “I will work my ass off for you, Desiree, and Ivo, as soon as I make some money, I’m paying you back for the medical bills.”
Ivo stopped himself from saying that unless she won the lottery, it was unlikely. He knew how important it was to Sofia that she didn’t appear a gold-digger.
“After your rent and food and heating, etc. etc.” He said and she rolled her eyes.
Desiree was still wary of Sofia, but she wouldn’t tell Ivo why. Ivo guessed Desiree knew he was falling for the young woman, and he could understand her reticence. He and Sofia didn’t know each other. Desiree had offered Sofia a spare room in her apartment and Sofia had tentatively agreed.
“She does scare me a little,” Sofia confided as she packed her stuff into the ever-present backpack on the day she was being discharged. Ivo helped her put her jacket on.
“Don’t tell her this, but me too. Listen,” he took Sofia’s hand as they walked out of the door into the corridor. “Desiree is tough, yes, but she wants the best for you. We both do. If Desiree seems a little aloof, it’s because she’s had to be to get where she is, you get what I mean?”
Sofia nodded. “I really do. Growing up in Westchester as a mixed race half-Indian girl? I get it.”
Ivo smiled. “Now, how about we go grab some lunch, then when Desiree is free, she’ll show you around the gallery.”
Tamara Rutland was bored. Six months since her hated step-mother had died, and that scrappy ragdoll of a daughter had been kicked out, and Tamara had expected that she would fill their gap in her father’s life, that he would finally see her as his rightful heir. His companion. Instead, Fergus had taken to screwing around and burying himself in work. Tamara knew about the fight with Jonas, of course. Her nose wrinkled when she thought about her brother. They had never been close. Jonas had all the soft decency that their mother, their stupidly trusting mother used to have. He didn’t have the ruthless streak that marked Tamara out from her…peers. Tamara didn’t have friends, she found no use for them, other than to torture, to fuck their boyfriends then tell them about it, all for sport. More than once she had been on the receiving end of a mad girlfriend’s wrath. Tamara took the beatings – enjoyed them – they made her feel alive. Lately, though, that kind of sport seemed too tame.
In New York’s seedier areas, however, she had discovered a new hobby. She overheard a conversation at one of her father’s interminable parties. The speaker had been a woman Tamara loathed so she hovered on the periphery of the group.
“Seriously, Bianca and I went just to check it out, but when we got there, everyone was naked, masked so we thought, ‘what the hell?’” Her companions had laughed. The woman took a slug of her scotch. “And you would not believe what went on in that club. Spanking, chains, nipple clamps, whips – people fucking each other, two or three at a time…god. Anything was acceptable and because we were all masked, it gave it that frisson of excitement, you know? Bianca was convinced by one man to whip him until he bled! You’ve never seen such a hard-on after she had finished with him. I was almost tempted to ride him myself, but Bianca had done all the work, so it was only polite that she got to fuck him.”
“And did you…indulge?”
The woman smirked into her glass. “A lady never tells.”
Tamara had butted in then. “In which case, you must be about to blab. Hilary, you’re one of the most vanilla people I’ve ever met – you’re borrowing this story from an article you read in Cosmo, right?”
Hilary glared at her. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me, Tamara. Surprised we didn’t see you down there, what with your known talent for sucking whoever’s cock is nearest.”
Tamara had given her the finger and moved away. but it had given her an idea. An internet search later and the next weekend, she made her way into the city, her long raincoat covering her newly purchased leather harness, and the cool air touching her bare groin. It was only a few blocks from the subway to Tension, the newest and hottest BDSM in New York.
In the club, she slipped off her coat without hesitation, inclining her head at the doorman’s obvious admiration. “You can’t afford me, darling.” She touched his cheek then squeezed his cock, before laughing and walking off.
In the bar, a low, sensual beat pounded, and Tamara’s heart began to pound. Yes. Yes, this is what she needed. She stopped by a table selling sex toys and bought a flogging whip. She snapped it again her hand – pleasingly painful. The woman selling the toys smiled at her. “You look like you’re used to those.”
Tamara wasn’t, but she didn’t want this woman to know that. Instead, she gave her a cold smile and went deep into the crypt-like club. At first all she could see was a sea of writhing bodies, moving around to thumping bass soundtrack. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that the club had alcoves built into the walls, and in those, people were fucking, or performing sex acts on each other. Tamara felt her body react to the sight, getting wet. She walked to the bar, ordered a double vodka and scanned the room.
When she saw him, her nipples hardened and a low moan escaped her lips. He was sitting alone at a table, his eyes hooded and unreadable. His dark hair was sept back from his face – a beautiful but dangerous face, his brown eyes large but lacking warmth. Tamara watched as a gorgeous young woman approached him, buck-naked, and straddled him. He leaned back as the girl unzipped his pants and drew out the biggest cock Tamara had ever seen. That thing is a monster, she thought, salivating. She watched as the man fisted the hair at the back of the girl’s head and kissed her deeply before the girl slid from his knees and took his cock in her mouth. He closed his eyes for a second as she began to suck at him, then looked directly at Tamara. Almost unconsciously her hand drifted down between her legs and she began to stroke herself, gently moving her body to the tune of the song, as he watched her. He didn’t take his eyes from her as the girl worked on him, only shuddering as he came, shooting into the other girl’s mouth. She swallowed him then just as silently moved away. His cock was still ramrod stiff, and Tamara didn’t hesitate.
She walked over to him and without a word, lowered herself onto his prick, and began to ride him. His kiss was rough, almost violent, his fingers digging into her tender flesh as they fucked. Tamara still had the flogger in her hand and she brought it up to strike him across the chest but he caught her hand.
“No.”
She got it. He was a Dom too. Her chin lifted defiantly but his eyes dared her to defy him. He jerked, coming, shooting thick cum into her cunt, then almost immediately lifting her off, and zipping himself up.
“Thanks.” He said, and walked out of the club, Tamara staring after him. Thanks? Thanks? Asshole. She stood, needing to save face. After a few minutes, she felt someone else watching her. This one was cute too, a little less god-like, but he had bright blue eyes and curly light brown hair. There was an arrogance to his smile she liked and so when he approached her, she didn’t glare at him. He bent his head to kiss her, sliding his hand between her legs to stroke her clit. He touched the flogger.
“How much?”
Tamara smiled. “A thousand to be beaten. Two to fuck me. Three to fuck me in the ass.”
Her admirer smiled. “Let’s called it an even ten thousand for all night and everything then, shall we? I have a room reserved here.”
He took her hand and led her back through a labyrinth of dark corridors. Tamara heard the echo of cries and begging and orgasmic pleasure reverberate off the stone walls. She had never been turned on so much in her life. Her client opened a door for her. “Is this to your liking?”
Inside the room was painted a dark eggplant color, with orange lamps dotted around the place giving it a sensual glow. A four-poster bed was in the center, a St Andrew’s cross at one end, with cuffs and restraints nailed into it. A long wooden bench, and shelves of toys, lube, ball-gags, whips, paddles and a selection sex toys. Tamara sighed happily. Her client smiled.
“What’s your name?”
“T…” She’d almost given her real name – stupid, did she want to look like a freaking rookie? “Taryn.”
“Well, Taryn, I’m Grant.”
His real name. So what? She pointed to the bench. “Get naked, Lie on your stomach on the bench.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
The first time she brought the flogger down hard across his buttocks, Tamara almost came. The exhilaration, the power she had over him was orgasmic. She began to cuss him out as she punished him, and when he begged her to whip his cock, she felt herself become dripping wet. “Turn over, scum,” she growled and his erection bounced upwards. She brought the flogger down across it, making sure the whip caught his balls too, and to her amazement, he just got harder and harder, groaning through the pain.
“Fuck me now,” she ordered and grinning, he complied, thrusting deep into her cunt, hands gripping her hips as they moved together.
In the early dawn light, Tamara finally caught the subway back to her New York apartment, utterly spent, but ten thousand dollars in cash richer, and thoroughly sated. At last, at last, she had found a world where she belonged. Tamara showered and brushed her teeth, grinning to herself. Why work when you could get rich fucking and causing pain? It was her calling; the two things she knew without a doubt she excelled at.
Screw you, Dad, for ignoring me. From now on, this is my world.