I curl my thumbs under the edges of the lace Cosabella stockings and pull them on one leg at a time. Tonight will be my night. After all the years of training and damn repetition, I will show them all just what I can do. I grab the thin black and red corset and don it like a gladiator preparing for battle. The tightness restricts and empowers me at the same time. The boning demands that I keep my breathing even and slow. I must be in control at all times. I wonder if Martha Argerich felt the same rush at her concert debut?
Did she tremble with fear or march on stage head held high? Having met her at Teatro La Scala in Milan I guess neither. She was quiet and reserved yet unmistakably powerful. I press a button on my phone and the suite is filled with the soft sounds of her piano bringing Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1 to life. I am instantly brought back to the first time I saw her play. The perfection and freedom of her performance was like a force of nature, but in the most graceful and natural way like a great waterfall cascading over the rocks that contain it.
I realize my choice in music is not the norm for a twenty-four-year-old, but I did not have an average adolescence. God I hated my mother at times. I can hear her now “Practice separates amateurs from the elite.” She was right of course but what sixteen-year-old wants to admit that. I watched Cassandra and Venus come and go with tales of the exciting places they had been and I burned up with envy on the inside. Frustrated with no outlet, I poured the energy into every language and discipline my mother instructed me to master.
I move through the immaculate suite. Heavy gold drapes adorn the massive window overlooking the river. My footsteps echo off the marble floor to the high ceilings and bounce off the exquisite crown molding. Every wall is stark white but the expansive doorways are a deep mahogany. I pass through the rich wooden work of art into a bedroom fit for a princess. The ornate four poster canopy bed is that of fairy tales. What would it be like to fall onto those covers in the embrace of the chiseled god of my dreams. I imagine his piercing eyes staring into mine as we fall weightless and crash into each other.
I do not have time for fantasy. Tonight is the most important of my life, I will emerge victorious or not at all. I stop before the Sheri Hill gown that hangs on the corner of the bed. The red French satin is almost weightless in my fingers as I hold the mermaid style gown to my chest. I have waited so long for this. My life has been filled with strong women and I feel the adrenaline of their joint successes as the universe aligns to shine on my moment. Slipping into the fabric I feel like a real princess. I stand staring at the polished figure in the mirror and suddenly self-doubt creeps in and attacks me like a tiger out of the darkness.
What if I fail? There it stands like a great wall between me and the achievement of my dreams. All the glitz and glitter in the world won’t matter. If I fail tonight it will all be over. I let out a slow heady breath and grip the edge of the velvet arm chair. My heart races like a lion and I sink into the depths of the Victorian masterpiece. What if I fail? I realize now my mother’s insistence. She knew that one single mistake would cost everything. I slip off the crimson gown, hold it to me as if it is a lifeline and look around the magnificent suite as if I am a child lost in the woods. My fear echoes off the mahogany walls and screams from behind every tapestry. I need fresh air. The corset that is meant to encourage self-discipline and restraint now chokes the life out of me. I drop the dress, run to the window and throw it open. The cool night air rushes into my lungs and chills my bare skin.
I take several deep breaths and stare out over the Thames River. A thousand lights sparkle in the distance. London at night is truly breathtaking. From my suite at The Savoy I can see the changing lights of The London Eye going round in perpetual motion. I soak in the beauty of the grand Ferris wheel accompanied by the grace of Chopin and I find my breath. I have been preparing for a decade for this night. In my soul I know that I am ready. Fear and trepidation will have to take a back seat. I turn from the window and go to retrieve the fallen garment from the marble floor.
The fabric glides over my body as if it were cut just for me. The asymmetrical gown is stunning. I do a small twirl admiring the ruffle that flows from my hips down to the train. Every aspect of tonight has been planned and rehearsed to the smallest detail. I know the steps by heart. The Image of Diana Vishneva twirls through my mind. Her delicate slippers catching each note of the concerto. I channel her as I glide through the suite, my bare toes painted red as the gown that flows about me. I slip on the Vince Camuto heels and imagine that I am Diana fastening my toe shoes for a grand debut at the Bolshoi Theater in Russia. I will follow each step exactly as planned. Every move is cemented into my subconscious. Years of preparation come down to this one night. I want to make my mother proud. I want to show them I am worthy of the time and the sacrifice. I step gracefully to the music spinning in the heels. Careful not to make a sound. Like my ballerina idol, I have mastered the art of slipping in and out of a room silently. I must dance as if my life depends on it, because it does. The reality of what is about to happen flows over my body like ice water shattering my fantasy.
Fear again takes me like a wave. I brace myself against the wall. What if I’m not ready. The thought of disappointing my mother weighs heavier on my mind than death or even torture. I want the countless hours of preparation to be worth it in her eyes. I want to be worth it in her eyes. My mother is not a tyrant. Although I must admit I called her as much in my youth. But now tonight I understand the gravity of her persistence. I remember sitting in front of her cross legged by our massive marble fireplace, a bored seventeen-year-old, repeating the same damn phrase in French over and over. On this night of a thousand stars, take my hand and come away with me. It was stupid of course and made no sense whatsoever.
“En cette nuit de mille étoiles, prends ma main et pars avec moi,” I repeated numbly staring at the flames dancing wild and free and longed to join them.
“Again.” She would always answer. In perfect French with an accent as if she had lived there all her life. “Say it like you mean it. Say it with passion. You must feel it, believe it.”
“En cette nuit de mille étoiles, prends ma main et pars avec moi.” I would try again batting my eyes playfully in a pseudo attempt to look passionate.
“Again.” She would demand and so we would go round and round for hours until she was satisfied. Then she would simply change the game. “Good. Now in Russian.”
To say I hated linguistics would be the understatement of the century. Suddenly I hear Noam Chomsky’s voice in my head. My mother stopped at nothing to make sure I had the best tutors in the world. I appreciate now all that she has done and though it is not her way to say it I know that she loves me.
“Te amo mi querida niña. Brilla mi amor, como las estrellas.” The voice that has haunted my dreams for years drifts into my head. My first mother. It has been so long I can barely remember what she looks like. Tears sting the back of my eyes and threaten the carefully placed makeup. I love you, my darling girl. Shine, my love, like the stars. Her voice calls to me in my native Castilian and I know instantly who it is. I close my eyes and for a moment I feel her warmth. I am six years old and wrapped up with her in a silk duvet. My six-year-old life was perfect. I don’t remember her death, only standing at the funeral watching the caskets of both my parents being lowered into gaping holes in the earth, that lay waiting like a wolf to swallow them up. It was on that day I met for the first time my Uncle Marcelo. He towered over me like a giant with a thick graying beard and a shiny bald head. He scowled down at me, his new charge, and hands on my hips I scowled right back defiantly.
That was the beginning of hell. Eight years I lived with a monster. My fairy tale world was brought crashing down in an instant. He took me to live with him in at his home in Brussels. There he kept me like a prisoner while he squandered my parents money. I was reminded every day of the burden my presence was on him and how if it weren’t for my inheritance he would cast me out like the worthless street rat that I was. Never in my life had I felt so utterly alone as I did those first few months. I cried myself to sleep every night begging God to return my mother. But she never came. In my dreams I could hear her telling me to be strong and shine like the stars. But the blinding light that ripped through my windows each morning dragged me kicking and screaming back to the reality that she was never coming back.
Gymnastics was my only outlet. Initially my sleazy uncle had a thing for the instructor so I was forced into lessons but it quickly became my lifeline. I practiced incessantly. I needed to win. I needed a way out. Successes in the gym were rewarded as Uncle Marcelo liked “having a winner” but failures were met with punishments of increasing intensity. The first time he put his hands on me something changed in his eyes. The deep brown orbs eclipsed with the depths of a soulless night. The lines of his face meshed into a snarl as if the devil himself was awakened. My stomach sank to my knees. There was no escaping him. The next three years were almost unbearable. I simply wanted to die. My only reprise was to win; then and only then would he leave me alone to read in my room. My desire to win and my relentless pursuit of it had nothing to do with glory and everything to do with survival.
The realization causes me to laugh out loud breaking the spell of the memory. My desire to win is still out of survival but now I want the glory too. I pick up the heavy black and gold embossed parchment cordially inviting me to the Siren’s Ball. The masquerade affair will be held at Syon Park Manor from 9:00 p.m. until 2:00 a.m. I glance at the large overstated clock in the foyer. It’s just past seven thirty. I need to finish getting ready. The car service will be downstairs to retrieve me in one hour and should drop me at the manor at exactly 9:12 p.m., allowing me to enter with the first wave of guests.
I take a deep slow breath as I approach the mirror. That gives me just three hours before the fireworks go off for the midnight celebration and the kiss that will change my life forever. I hold up the custom made Christian Louboutin Lip Rouge in its black and crystal case. The shade is as red as my shoes. I slip it carefully into my evening bag. I will wait to apply it until just before I go. The sensation, despite years of practice, is still somewhat invigorating to say the least. I carefully touch-up the rest of my makeup and heat my long deep chocolate tresses into loose curls. I am barely used to this volume of hair and the process is taking longer than I would like. Impatiently, I eye the delicate black and red masquerade mask that sits on the vanity to my right.
The stunning piece of art is intricately decorated with fine scroll work and metal filigree that extend over one side like the tentacles of a butterfly. It really is the perfect combination of grace and anonymity. Will it provide enough mystery and allure to draw him in? How in a crowd of a thousand people will I capture his eye? I know that I must, success depends on it. I cannot fail, everything in my life to this point comes down to these three hours. Though the night before me seems to stretch on forever with the monumental task that awaits, I know that it will vanish like a drop in the vast sea of time.
The final step of my transformation, I pick up the hand painted Sergio Boldrin masterpiece and tie it into place. My deep black lashes and ice blue contacts seem electric through the accentuated eye holes. I am ready. I grab my small black evening clutch and slip out the door. The car I know will be waiting downstairs. My heart is racing to an intoxicating rhythm. The time is here. This is it, do or die. My red heels click across the white and black marble lobby floor of the Savoy and all eyes are on me. I don’t slow even for a minute, just continue to the waiting black Mercedes. The driver smiles approvingly at my attire, I can’t help but smile back as I climb in. I’m not in the least worried by all the attention. This is the carnival celebration, in another moment all their attention will be on the next girl coming through the lobby. I only hope I can stand out enough to capture the attention of Erik Fredrickson Hook, the world’s richest shipping magnet.
Every girl at the ball will be trying to win the favor of the most ruthless billionaire in the world. I stare through the wet glass at the sparkling streets beyond. Lights are blinking in time to the song that plays in my mind. I catch my reflection in the glass and smile. He will notice me. Everything depends on it. I must lure him in with a siren’s song and make him mine.
“På denne kvelden med tusen stjerner, ta hånden min og kom med meg.” On this night of a thousand stars, take my hand and come away with me, I recite flawlessly in his native Norwegian. The siren’s call I giggle quietly. The car slows and my focus shifts to the great stone steps as the car slows outside Syon Park.
The moment I see him my heart literally stops in my chest. My corset is suddenly two sizes too small and I search desperately for my breath. The driver comes around the vehicle and suddenly the door opens. I gasp as the lights and sounds of the party are all around me. They are all a blur as I watch him shaking hands with each patron welcoming them to the party. Without taking my eyes off him, I take the driver’s outstretched hand and stand.
He turns toward me for the first time and a smile curls over his lips. Our eyes lock and I can barely breathe. This exquisite six-foot god in a Dormeuil suit and plain black masquerade mask is definitely not the sixty-two-year-old man I am here to see. Still, I can’t take my eyes off him. Perhaps he works for Mr. Hook or maybe he is the curator for Syon Park. Either way he is heading the receiving line and I will have to encounter him to get inside. I let out the breath I have been holding and start up the steps summoning every bit of courage in my body. The corset prevents me from losing my cool. The slim bondage lines hold me upright and remind me to breathe slow and even. I must maintain control at all times.
Just a few more steps and my hands will be in his. His emerald eyes are pulling me in. My heart pounds in time with the music. I can’t be this affected by a total stranger. I am the one who hypnotizes and gets the job done before they ever know what happened. I just have to get inside the party and put this guy out of my head. The line moves forward and we are face-to-face. I open my mouth but the words won’t come out. He has a mess of dark blond curly hair that is styled to perfection but maintains an air of mischievousness that longs to be played with. I picture my fingers running through it and gripping tightly as his head dips between my legs. His eyes drink me in and I am helpless. They are deep emerald pools that reflect the hills of Ireland and a devilishness that cannot be contained. He says nothing but his hands find mine. His touch ignites me. Adrenaline pumps from his warm embrace of my hand through my entire body. His eyes come alive and his body stiffens. He sucks in a sharp breath as if he has been stabbed and I can tell he feels it too. The rest of the world seems to fade away from us. We are two strangers alone in the dark. He looks at me as if he already knows every secret desire I dare to keep. For the first time in my life I am exposed, vulnerable before him. But I am not afraid.
He opens his mouth to speak but the next person in line taps me from behind to move along. Suddenly the spell is broken and he shoots them a look of pure hatred over my shoulder. He squeezes my hand in a silent plea not to go, but I take the moment to escape. I slip my hand from his and disappear into the crowd. My heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear the music. I have to get a grip on myself. I move through the bodies that surround me like a vessel lost in the sea of the dead. I don’t know what just happened, but I need to get the hell out of here.
I make my way to the restroom. The ball itself is in the Great Conservatory but the Carnival Party is spread over the grounds and encompasses several buildings. Safely behind the large wooden door I am isolated from the chaos and from him. I cannot let this man, whoever he is, get in the way.
After making sure no one is around, I open the black clutch and pull out a small vial. It is time. I spray the delicate Dolce pheromones on my pulse points. The smooth sensual notes of amaryllis and white lilies linger softly and mix with my natural pheromones. The mix is intoxicating and will be damn near impossible to resist. I take out the custom Louboutin lip rouge. The siren red speaks volumes without ever saying a word. I brace myself for the storm that is coming and put it on. At first contact with my lips a warm rush flows through my body like bubbles from champagne. I feel my inhibitions leave me behind. The tingling sensation continues like a river over my most sensitive flesh heightening every contact so that even my lace panties set me on fire. I am ready; there is no turning back. I brace myself against the sink and try not to picture the strapping god at the door. Those eyes still burn through every inch of me. The aphrodisiac in the pheromone spray and the lipstick are not helping. While my head knows these are tools I have “mastered” my body is pulsing vigorously at the thought of him. Fuck. I have to get him out of my head. I ride the wave of sensation and grip the sink tighter. I am a professional damn it. Or at least I will be after tonight. Fuck this. I am in control. I push away from the sink determined to achieve success at any cost.
I focus on the task at hand. Having only seen pictures I know that he will be a tall salt and pepper blond. Even at sixty-two he will tower over any other man in the room. His presence, they say, is commanding and unforgiving. But he has never met me. I feel the confidence of the drugs and I know the game is on. Practice makes perfect. Tonight will be the culmination of everything I have worked for. With a deep breath I push the bathroom door open and the music envelops me as I step into the crowd. Each man I pass acts as if the most succulent prime rib has just been waved in front of their nose and I know the pheromones are working. I am no longer a pretty little girl to be pushed around; tonight I am in control.
I work through the eager crowd down the large marble hallway toward the conservatory. The music is thumping and commands me to move. The illuminated glass panes before me create a great glowing cathedral. The great conservatory lies in the center of vast gardens that have been tended by the Dukes of Northumberland since 1594. Light radiates through each translucent section and explodes into space. I have never seen anything like it. I enter the magnificent ballroom and everyone in it is moving in time with the music. So many people. I can feel the heat of their bodies, the pulse of their desire. I scan the room but Mr. Hook is nowhere to be seen. He must be here somewhere this is his party after all.
Across the room I notice a grayish blonde man with shoulders as broad as he is tall. His back is to me. I have to know if it’s him. I just need to get closer. One look at his face and I will know. My pulse quickens as I start across the marble floor. I let my body move to the music as I glide in the direction of my prize. When I am only a few yards away a firm hand clasps onto my arm. Fuck. They have already found me out.
I whirl around and my heart stops dead in my chest. Instead of the security guard I pictured that was here to throw me out, the chiseled dirty blonde god from the receiving line stands before me. The picture of trouble only an arm’s length away. I struggle to keep my mind and soul on the task I have been given. I can’t begin to explain why his presence affects me so much. He stands like a silent statue and extends his hand toward mine. Fuck me. Does he know who I am? My heart pounds like a jackhammer relentlessly ripping the pavement apart. He steps closer. This is it. I am dead.
Unable to summon any words I place my hand in his. He smiles like the spider who has finally captured the fly and pulls me toward him. What the hell is happening? The smell of Balvenie whisky and notes of ambroxan, pepper, and bergamot take my senses hostage. I feel his strong hand on the small of my back guiding my body into his as we crash into one another and I realize I have wandered onto the dance floor. He begins to move to the music, leading me to the rhythm. I follow, matching him step for step, our hips moving as one in time with the intoxicating melody. The devil in me springs to life. The selfish part of me wants to savor this moment so desperately. The fire of the contact between us burns my skin and ignites the most sensitive parts of me. The bodies around us move with the music like a hypnotic pendulum. I fall under his spell once again and they all fall away. The illuminated cathedral is just for us.
“Who are you?” he asks with the voice I hear in my dreams. Like Mowgli in the jungle, when I hear his low growl for the first time, I know I am a doomed. The British accent is undeniably masculine with a strange gentleness about it, like he could absolutely rip my world apart yet hold me tenderly until it stopped spinning. “ I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“I … You can call me Lorelei. I’m here for Mr. Hook,” I answer and glance away from his penetrating eyes. Mr. Hook is known for hiring hordes of beautiful women for his parties.
“Lorelei,” he repeats slowly letting the word swirl around in his mouth like a fine wine. Then he gives a half smile and nods as if we share an intimate secret. “Fitting name for the Siren’s Ball.” He looks me up and down knowingly. “So you’re here for business instead of pleasure then?”
“Something like that,” I answer breathlessly as we move to the music. The word pleasure rolls off his tongue and takes a life of its own dancing around me like a sprite creating the most wicked images in my mind. I need to get away from this man but I can’t bear to break away from his embrace. He guides us around the dance floor and I am only vaguely aware of the people watching.
“Pity. Mr. Hook is a lucky man,” he breathes low and smooth like hot caramel. He twirls me out to arm’s length and his eyes travel over every inch of my skin. I am exposed. “Flawless … Absolutely flawless,” he mutters as he shakes his head in disbelief and pulls me back to him. I gasp when our bodies collide and his lips brush my cheek then find my ear. “I shall pay my respects to the old man. I doubt he will survive the night with you.”
I pull back sharply and stare up at him mouth open. “What?” How could he possibly?
“Forgive me, Lorelei.” He is still holding me and his eyes beg me to return to his embrace. “You look perfect tonight. I just meant that no mortal man could survive a night with a woman a beautiful as you. Even if his body endures his heart and soul will be lost forever.” He gives a wink that would have Elsa running for sunscreen.
My resistance softens as he pulls me back to him. He thinks I’m a whore. This amazing sexy man believes I am nothing more than an escort hired by Mr. Hook to entertain the so called gentlemen at his party. The most fucked-up part is I can do nothing to show him otherwise. For tonight I am a whore hired by Mr. Hook. Everything depends on it. What a sick trick of fate to meet the right person at the wrong time. His stunning green eyes are searching my face.
“You are forgiven,” I reply coolly and allow him to move me around the ballroom. The great clock at the end of the hall strikes ten. I scan the room for Mr. Hook but still do not see him. Everyone is wearing elaborate venetian costumes with ornate masks. The vibrant colors blend as we move around the room. For the first time I begin to worry that I won’t be able to find him. The costumes vary from deeply beautiful to grotesque, but no one bares their own face. Though dancing is a perfect cover I need to find him. I have to go. “I need to go. Thank you for the dance,” I say quickly and start to pull away.
“You need to go to him?” he asks with weight in his voice as if it is actually causing him pain. I know that can’t be as we just met.
“Yes,” I answer. NO! No no no, I never want to leave this man’s arms. “That’s why I’m here. I’m sorry I must go.”
“Wait.” His grip on my wrist tightens. “ I can’t let you go just yet. Mr. Hook isn’t in here at the moment anyway. He should be arriving anytime.”
I look around the room. He is right I still don’t see Mr. Hook anywhere, but there are over two hundred people in here. All of them are dressed to the hilt in extravagant disguises. What if I can’t find him? Panic starts to rise.
“I can see you really want to be with him.” He doesn’t even try to hide the disappointment. “I’ll tell you what. Stay with me until he arrives, then I will introduce you personally.” The emerald pools implore me. The magical seduction of his panty melting voice destroys my senses.
“Yes.” I hear myself answer before my brain even has a chance to think it through. As reason catches up every alarm bell in my being is sounding. I can’t spend too much time with any one person. Fuck. I am breaking every rule. Mother would be furious. I know better than this, but something about his eyes, his intoxicating scent, I am helpless to resist. “So you know him then?” I ask realizing how stupid that sounds. Of course he knows him. Mr. Hook owns everything and everyone here. It dawns on me that I don’t even know this incredible man’s name.
“You could say that,” he answers as his mouth turns up in that adorable half smile. He is fucking delicious. “I work for Mr. Hook. Everyone calls me X.”
“Seriously … X? You didn’t get a whole nickname?” I ask playfully.
“I don’t need one,” he answers with the confidence of a man who’s is the master of his domain.
“Well then please you meet you … X,” I banter back, not about to give him the upper hand in the conversation. Did I come across him in some of the research? He works for Mr. Hook so I must have. The name rings a bell for some reason, I just can’t place him.
He intertwines his hand with mine and holds me to him. “Believe me, darling the pleasure is all mine,” he says in a tone so low it is almost a growl as he kisses my hand. The contact explodes and spreads through my body like a wildfire. How will I ever walk away? Yet when the time comes I know I must and never look back. We are moving now at such a pace the room blurs into a whirl of exaggerated color.
I don’t deserve this. I know better. I need to walk away. Why tonight of all nights. Why did I have to meet him tonight? His very touch excites every part of me. He moves with the grace and confidence of a man who owns the world. I watch him in awe. In a room full of the most beautiful people his eyes are only on me. I have to wake up from this fantasy and come back to life. I have a job to do. This is supposed to be the biggest night of my life. This is supposed to be the culmination of everything I have worked so hard for. Yet in the arms of this perfect stranger I am swept away.
The music stops for a moment and the MC comes to the stage. This is it. He must be here. I search desperately for Mr. Hook. He is nowhere to be seen. The MC introduces Lord Hedrick and Lord Culliver and their lovely wives Kathy and Christine. Kathy’s emerald and gold gown is beyond breathtaking. The brocade and satin fabrics are so fine they belong in a museum behind a wall of glass. Her ornate gold mask is adorned with emeralds and diamonds that match her massive necklace. She looks like a Venetian queen. Christine is wearing a crimson and silver dress. The silver brocade skirt bustles over a heavy crinoline and pools onto the floor, the layers of crimson chiffon cascade around it. All I can think of is my favorite Holiday Barbie from my youth. I wanted to be her so much when I was six. Lady Christine is every bit as beautiful as my doll ever dreamed of. Her mask is silver and adorned with the same rubies and diamonds as her bodice. They are magnificent.
I would wager their attire for this one night would cost more than most people’s homes. A thief would find it irresistible. Unless of course they knew about the real prize.
“He’s not here yet,” X insists pulling my attention back to him. “I promise to let you know the moment he arrives and though it will kill my soul, I will take you to him immediately. I know when he sees you he will never let you go,” X says staring down at me. “Since I only have you for a little while, what do you say we forget ourselves just for a short time. Let everything go and just be with me as if there was no one else in the world.”
“X. I …” I struggle to find the words. I would love nothing more than to forget my life and enjoy him for as long as I possibly can. But I know better. This is crazy. “You don’t want to take me on. I am always trouble believe me.”
“Darling you are the kind of trouble I could lose myself in. I plan to show up to my own funeral late, madly in love and a little drunk. I imagine one taste of you could do all three.” His low rumble finds the perfect place in my soul. The want in his emerald eyes is overwhelming. His strong hands are holding me and the heat of his body flows into mine. I can tell he is the kind of man to always gets what he wants.
“There are a hundred girls in here. You can have any of them. I can’t be with you. I am already promised to Mr. Hook,” I respond grasping at reason. We are on the edge of mistakes that cannot be undone.
“There’s no one else here. From the moment I first saw you in that dress, there were no other women. Only you. I would give anything to see it in a pile on my floor.” He trails his fingers down the side of my face and I pull away before he touches my mouth.
“No. We can’t. I won’t kiss you. I can’t. Please. I should go,” I stammer and pull away. I long to have his lips on mine. Fuck me. Why am I meeting him tonight? Why fucking tonight. This is beyond unfair. I have decided Fate is a cruel bitch and she fucking hates me.
“Slow down,” he commands and guides me with the hand on the small of my back. He slides it down slowly and holds tightly to the top of my ass. Fuck. The music has a Latin rhythm. I am powerless to resist and he can feel it. He moves us perfectly with the seductive melody and I feel myself slipping back into his trance. “I want to savor every moment with you slowly. If I had you alone I would devour you and ruin you for any other man even the elusive Mr. Hook.”
I have no doubt he is telling the truth. I would love to be ravaged by this man. How many nights have I dreamed of exactly that? It’s like he stepped right out of my wildest dreams and walked right into my life. I try not to picture him ripping this dress from my flesh.
“You are dangerous.” I breathe knowing I need to break away.
“Yes.” He leans closer so that his lips brush my forehead. “I am.”
He is everything my mother warned me about. Why, why, why am I meeting him now? My heart and body are about to explode. Moving with him to this music is ripping me apart. I need to breathe. I feel a sheen of sweat glisten across my face. The ecstasy in my lipstick is making its way into my bloodstream. I need to find Mr. Hook as soon as possible.
My steps falter and my head swims. I need fresh air. X notices my distress and slows our pace.
“Follow my lead. I want to show you something,” he whispers. I should say no. I should stay here but my body is already in step with his. The music morphs into a slow seductive Tango. He moves with expert care keeping me in his arms at all times. My body moves with his as if it has a mind of its own and we have known the steps all our lives. Before I realize it we have reached the edge of the conservatory and we move through the open doors into the cool night air. It feels amazing on my skin. Every nerve ending is alive. A million tiny icicles invigorate the warm burn of my flesh. My eyes are hooded with desire and the effects of the drug. I know I am running out of time. Midnight is coming fast.
We walk across the stone patio and stop at the edge of the grass. He drops to one knee and begins to unfasted my delicate shoe.
“What are you doing?” I shriek. I have never had a man try to take off my shoes. Other garments yes, but never my shoes, it catches me completely off guard.
He freezes and looks up at me. “Do you trust me, Lorelei?” He waits but I don’t answer. I barely know him. How could I possibly trust him? My inhibitions are fuzzy. Which I guess is the whole idea, but I am with the wrong man!
“I need you to trust me,” he commands me like a fog that comes out of the canyon and surrounds me. I am powerless to resist it. I feel his words in my very being.
“I trust you X,” I breathe. Famous last words. I wonder if my mother will put that on my casket.
“Perfect,” he responds and smiles. The spider has caught the fly. He will ruin me. Carefully he removes one shoe and then the other. “ Come with me,” he says as he stands and takes my hand. He leads me across the dew covered grass. The sensation is beyond incredible. Every blade of grass causes a little foot orgasm with each step. We reach a small hedge of trees and he picks me up.
“I don’t want the pine needles to hurt your feet,” he explains and carries me like a bride across the threshold. On the other side is a small courtyard. Illuminated by the giant full moon and a million stars. The lights of London provide a soft glow in the distance. We are all alone. An exquisite fountain in the center of the space is a sculpture of the Siren Lorelei. She is the epitome of beauty in her gown and wears a wreath of stars in her hair. The way the moonlight reflected off her and the water she seemed to glow.
“Wow. It’s really her.” I can’t believe it.
“You didn’t know she was here?” he asked laughing. “That’s why this is the Siren’s ball. There is a magnificent ice sculpture of her in the main dining hall as well.”
“I had no idea.” How did I not know that? I begin to doubt my research. Who is this man. I feel like I am in an alternate universe. “I grew up with her legend.” I admit to him and I don’t know why.
“I did too.” He takes my hand. “There’s not a son of a sailor in all of northern Europe or Scandinavia that doesn’t know of her magic. She is the beautiful nymph of the Rine that our mothers warn us about. No sailor that sought her ever returned to be seen again. Her beauty and song are irresistible.”
A chill runs over me. My mother told me this tale as well. Only I can never tell him in my story the Siren is the heroine. My dear, you have no idea who I am. My heart breaks as I know how this night will end.
The music from the party floats through the open doors and finds us. We are surrounded by the incredible beauty of this moment. He sets my shoes down on a Elizabethan bench and takes my hand. “Dance with me in the dark. Away from prying eyes. You are all that I can see. All that I want is you between my arms.” We move back and forth under the stars barefoot in the grass and for the first time in my life I am complete. It makes no sense, but in his arms I truly belong.
“Darling, you are like an angel. Truly perfect. I want to cherish you and defile you at the same time.” He leans in to kiss me and I pull away.
“No. Please. You can’t kiss me. I’m sorry, X.” I turn to run to the conservatory but he grabs my hand.
“Wait. Your shoes.” I stop and turn back. The look of pain on his face is unmistakable. Even with the mask I can see the hurt in his eyes.
“I get it, too personal. What if I promise not to kiss you … on the mouth?” He tempts. “What If I only kiss your hand …” He lifts my hand to his lips and kisses gently. “Or your arm …” He kisses my arm. I inhale sharply. Oh, sweet Jesus. He pulls me close to him again and I don’t resist.
“What about your neck? Can I kiss you here?” His lips find the nape of my neck and I grip his curly hair. I want his mouth all over me. I want every inch of him. The devil within begins to awaken. He has no idea what he is walking into. I need to cut him loose before it’s too late.
“Stop. I belong to someone else. Please this is a really bad Idea. You have no idea how dangerous this is.” I pull away but the sensation of his mouth on me is generating a storm inside. His mouth moves down over my collarbone and his free hand finds my breast. I feel the throbbing of my clit between my legs and my red lace panties take the damage of my excitement. In another move my corset is exposed.
“Fucking hell,” he exclaims when he sees the black and red lace device. “If there was any chance of turning back it’s gone now. I would sail straight into the depths of fire for you.”
He buries his head between my breasts and all I can do is moan. It feels so fucking good. My panties are completely useless now. His warm wet mouth finds my nipple and takes me in. I am a horrible person. I am promised to someone else. Fuck. I am going straight to fucking hell. I want him to take me on. Fuck, I want him to ravage me to ruin right here in the wet grass. He moves from one breast to the other. I feel his strong hand moving down my bodice and pulling up billows of my dress. I need to tell him to stop. I need to walk away.
“You are so fucking perfect,” he breathes around my aching breast as his hand finds the soaked lace of my panties. A total stranger is about to bury his fingers inside me and I want nothing more. Fuck, I am the whore he thinks I am. Jesus, I want this.
“Mmmmmm. My God, you are wet,” he growls like a beast that has been left free into the night as his fingers slide inside me. He knows just where to touch me. The fingers inside put a constant pressure on the erogenous flesh and move in a slow circling motion like a wave. His thumb finds my clit and moves opposite. Holy fuck. How is that even possible.
“God,” I pant unable to make any further words. He knows just exactly what he is doing. I begin to throb in a painful rhythm so delicious I never want it to end and yet I don’t think I can stand another second. The pulsations grow into full spasms. I am going to explode on his hand already. He withdraws his mouth exposing my wet breast to the cool night air and holds me tightly to him as I come uncontrollably in his arms.
“That’s it, my love. Come for me. I am going devour every drop of your pleasure. It’s all for me. Only me do you understand.” His voice is like low thunder before the storm. Without saying another word he lifts me up onto the edge of the fountain and drops to his knees before me. I can barely catch my breath. I run my fingers through his hair that is now wild and free. My earlier fantasy is about to come true. The anticipation of his touch consumes me. He pulls the delicate red lace panties down and pockets them.
“Give those back!” I shriek. I cannot leave something that incriminating behind.
“I’ll give them right back as soon as I get you cleaned up. But right now, I’m going to taste you.” He blows a gentle stream of air onto my swollen clit. I let my head fall back and close my eyes. There will be time to get them back later. Right now the only thing I want is to feel him.
The moment his tongue makes contact I nearly slip off the fountain, the sensation is so exquisite. It is everything I knew it would be. My back arches with pure euphoria as each sinful touch sends jolts of pure bliss through my entire being. He holds me firm with his massive arms and keeps me from falling in the fountain. I cry out in the darkness as he takes his time to relish every last bit of my desire. His moves in a rhythm over the most sensitive parts of me that sets my world on fire. Each stroke, each caress, send me closer to the abyss. My legs begin to shake and I hold tight to his thick curls. I am unable to move but my entire body is alive. The moonlight shines down on us, he looks like a Greek god in the silver light. He growls into me with my clit in his mouth sending deep vibrations that overtake my body. I have never been touched like this in my life. All my previous sexual experience was either traumatic or work related. This is all pleasure and all for me.
I can’t help but completely lose myself in the pure ecstasy of the moment. The trembling of my legs spreads to the rest of my body. A wave like I have never felt before is coming over me. My body is an inferno that even the night air cannot quench. He takes me to the edge of the abyss and for the first time in my life he wraps me in his arms and we go over the cliff together. Weightless. I am flying but I am not alone. Surrounded by his embrace in this most vulnerable moment there is a kind of intimacy I don’t know what do with. He is holding me to him as I calm from the storm.
“Lorelei,” he breathes into my hair. He turns me so that he can look me in the eyes. “God, the look on your face just now. You are the most …” I put my fingers on his lips before he can finish. The raw connection with this perfect stranger scares the hell out of me.
He leans in as if he is going to kiss me and I pull away quickly. “No. No, I have to go,” I stammer and step back. I can’t let him kiss me. Fuck, what have I done? I have to regain control. These uncharted waters are too much for me to handle. The music plays on from the party as if I haven’t just forsaken the very promise I swore my life to keep.
“I understand now.” He speaks and I pause. Like a gazelle eyeing a lion I am ready to take flight.
“Understand what?” I ask unsure where he is going with this. Fear grows. What the hell does he know?
“When I was a boy I couldn’t fathom why any sailor would leave everything and fling himself into the sea for a woman. I saw the look in old men’s faces as they recounted the legends and winked and nodded as if they would be powerless to resist. I thought them all fools. Old and weak.” He shook his head as if he was seeing a light for the first time and ran his fingers through his wild curly hair. “All the parties, the women. You must know there have been hundreds of women. I finally understand what the old man has been looking for all this time. He’s been waiting for you.”
Clearly he has ingested some of the drugs, but I don’t think it would be enough to harm him. Hopefully it will be enough to make this whole encounter seem like a dream. He is blathering on and on about sirens and legends. God, he is beautiful and funny. I watch him move around the moonlit space. It almost feels as if we are in our own private sanctuary with the rest of the world far away. There is a part of me that doesn’t want to go back. I want to stay here with him in this Nirvana and listen to him talk for hours with that voice. I want him. All of him. Why tonight? Why did I have to meet him tonight.
“I hope Mr. Hook feels the same way,” I answer trying to shift his focus from wherever this is going. “I really need to get back inside.”
He takes my hand in his. “I know,” he answers lowly like a man marching to the gallows. He brings my hand to his lips one last time, then stands staring into my eyes. “He’s going to be absolutely crazy about you.”
“If I ever get to meet him,” I tease nervously. “The party is going to be over before we know it.” I have to grip this situation firmly by the balls and turn it around in my favor. We are still wearing our masks but I have spent too much time with this beautiful man.
“He’ll never know what hit him. One look at you and he will forget all his senses. One taste and he will sell his soul to the devil. One night and there won’t be a soul left to sell.” He trails his fingers down the side of my face but stops before he reaches my mouth. “I can still taste you on my lips. While you are with him I’ll be savoring the taste of you with aged whisky. Don’t forget I still have these.” He holds up my red lace panties and laughs.
“Give those back, you cheeky bastard.”
“Not a chance. These are mine. You should be mine.” He taunts and dangles them above my head. I swipe for them and miss but he takes the opportunity to nuzzle a kiss dangerously close to my mouth. “You will be mine, but until then I’m keeping these.”
“You promised to give those back. I can’t leave without them.” Come on pretty boy. Please. I don’t want to kill you. How did I let this get so far out of control? I have to turn this situation around. Suddenly I know what I have to do. Fear shatters the intense and unexplainable connection between us..
“Come away with me.” He pulls me back to him. “You don’t have to go back in there. Leave that life. Come with me and I will give you the world.” He steps back with each word gently pulling me with him until he bumps into the fountain and stops.
“You have no idea what you are asking. You don’t even know me,” I counter. “I’m a whore, hired to be here for someone else.”
“I know that no one in the history of the world has ever looked as stunning as you do tonight. I want to know all of you. I want to take you to your limits and explore the seductive power of your dreams,” he confesses
“And what if with all this effort you don’t like what you find? What if underneath all the satin and glitz I’m really a monster,” I challenge leaning forward pinning him against the fountain.
“My darling, you have no idea who I am.” He turns his demur voice suddenly low and rumbling like water rushing from the release of a dam, full of power. He flips us so that I am pinned against the smooth granite by the weight and heat of his impeccable body. “I don’t fear anyone or anything, save losing you.” He leans in and his lips brush my neck as he continues. “Your smile makes me happier than any man has the right to be. Never in all the wars I have engaged, in all the lives I have crushed, in all the beauty I have held in my hand did I dream of meeting someone as utterly and completely perfect as you.”
I stop him by putting my finger on his lips. “Don’t say another word,” I instruct. “You say want to know me but you have no fucking idea what you are asking. Now it’s my turn to show you just exactly what you are getting yourself into.” I spin us around again, hard this time so that I am facing him and his back is against the fountain once again. He doesn’t resist. I can tell by the amused look on his face he doesn’t take me seriously. I remove his deep red tie and wrap my arms around him to bind his hands behind his back.
“What the hell?” he asks with a playful smile. “Siren Lorelei, are you tying me up?” An excited grin spreads over his face and his eyes flash like a child seeing his presents for the first time on Christmas morning.
“Mr. X, I’m going to destroy you.” I mean every word but he just smiles as if I am playing some seductive game. I have the devil tied up and there is no going back. I move slowly with the music and unbutton his crisp white dress shirt. The aroma of his cologne escapes the linen confines. I am fully rolling now and the scent is so intriguing it radiates off his skin like mist off the river. I want to drink him in. Nothing I have ever seen is this inviting. I rake my nails down his granite chest and abs. He breathes in sharply in a mix of pain and pleasure and a fine sheen of sweat appears on his chest and forehead despite the cool night air.
“Look what you made of me,” I hiss gently against his skin, careful not to let my lips touch. “I’m going to make you suffer.”
My index fingers slip under the edge of the waistband of his black trousers. I slide them out to the sides of his hips and back to the center. I can’t help but lick my lips as I start to undo the button.
“Fuck, you look hot as hell.” He groans with need. The rise and fall of his sculpted chest quickens.
I am going to make him pay for the hell he has put me in. This is supposed to be my night to shine. I was not supposed to meet this beautiful man. He’s the fucking siren. But I won’t be distracted anymore. Mr. Hook was supposed to be my first but X will do. The button falls away and I pull the zipper like a lead weight slowly revealing navy blue silk boxers. Of fucking course. The cologne he has sprayed here like a final fucking trap tries to capture all my senses. I want to give in. My gentle hands find his cock and set it free. Holy Jesus that could wreck a woman. All the parts of me that seek pain with the pleasure are awakened. My mind flashes like a strobe of dreams and reality. I am bound to the four poster bed in my suite and he has a crop. He is about to punish me in the most delicious ways. He’s going to ruin me and I can’t fucking wait. I take him with both hands and begin to move with the music that floats through the trees into our secret enclave.
I made myself a promise many years ago, that no man will ever get me to break. This masterful illusionist almost made me forget that. But no more. I am the temptress. I am in control. You will never see me coming. I am quiet like a vapor that slips into every part of your life and mind. I will destroy you from the inside out.
He moans and I look up into those breathtaking emerald eyes. I know better. They speak directly to my soul. I can’t do this. My inner demons wage a war I can’t afford to lose. He is everything I have dreamed of. Everything the little girl of my memories dared to imagine. It will only take a moment. The demons remind me. This will be quick. The pleasure will outdo the pain. Do it. Take him in.
I bend closer so that my ruby red lips hover just over the throbbing tip. His body tenses with anticipation. My heart and body race with excitement. This is it. I open my mouth and just as I start to make contact.
Bong Gong Dong Bong. The musical chimes of Big Ben start to sound. It’s eleven o’clock! I only have one hour left. I look up panicked at the semi naked god before me. Suddenly all the magic and the mystery of the moment vanish. The loud repetition of the clock breaks through the fog of the drugs and I stand suddenly knocking him over the ledge into the water. His pants are around his legs and his hands are bound behind his back. He flaps around disoriented as the drug begins to flow through his system. He will live but I wonder if he will even remember me.
“Farewell, my love,” I bid him in his distress. Thankfully the water is not that deep. I leave him, grab my shoes and make a mad dash for the observatory. I feel the angels in heaven scowling down at me for what I have done to their hero. Can it bitches. That’s nothing compared to what I am about to do to Mr. Hook. I stop at the edge of the patio and put my shoes back on and try to smooth my hair. Mercifully I still have my tiny wrist clutch. I need to walk casually to the restroom and tidy myself up.
It is not until I am safely behind the mahogany doors that I realize I didn’t get my panties back. Fuck! Silently I pray that they fell into the water with him removing any evidence of my presence. I look at the disheveled mess in the mirror. You do not look like a beautiful temptress. You look like a harlot that has been discarded. I have to salvage something out of this. I quickly fashion my hair into a messy updo. Apply a bit of powder and reapply the pheromone spray. There at the bottom of my small clutch I see it. The lip rouge. I know that it needs to be reapplied but I have never put it on more than once at a time. I don’t know if I will be able to handle the effects. My time will be limited at best. There is one hour until my ride arrives and the effects of the drugs will overtake. I have to move quickly.
I hold the rouge in my hand and take a deep breath. All or nothing. A successful suicide mission is better than failure I decide and apply the crimson stain before I have a chance to talk myself out of it. Like a junkie to their fix I feel the familiar rush at the first contact with my lips. I apply enough to bring my blood red lips to full effect. The clock has started ticking. This is going to take all the self-control and focus that I have inside. I have to overcome the drug long enough to find my mark. With one final glance in the mirror I turn and open the door. Here goes nothing or everything, only time will tell.
The music seems louder than before. It takes on a shape and personality of its own. Each note can be seen, felt, touched. Keep a hold of yourself, I scold my brain that is beginning to dance inside my skull. I move through the conservatory like a forest of strange figures. All their masks seem distorted. The colors run together. Everyone is dancing, moving, swaying to a tune that carries them into the air. It is a stunning parade of the elegant and grotesque. The masquerade ball is a fervor of lust and risk. People have always been fascinated by the macabre. This is a variable circus of seduction.
A gentleman with salt and pepper hair asks me to dance. He is much too short to be Mr. Hook but I accept. I look out of place walking aimlessly around the dance floor. We spin around the arena to music much too loud for me to understand what he is saying. The train of my crimson gown twirls with my every movement.
The entire room is draped in decadence. They move with us and around us, everyone masked in the mystery of the night. The scene is truly magical. White clad statues of gods and goddesses around the room seem to come alive and dance. Are they costumed figures or is my mind already playing tricks. Contortionists in snakeskin costumes bend and twist in graceful movements that defy human ability.
This mysterious Garden of Eden feels as though it will swallow me whole. A man in a black suit with a silver mask and jet black hair cuts in and takes my hand. He tall enough to be the man I seek but his hair and features are much too dark. His scent is much more masculine than my previous dance partner. He holds me firmly and we move to his lead. He is a powerful force but lacks the grace and fineness of X. Just the thought of him sends tingles all over my hypersensitive body. A grand stilt walker in full coattails and top hat walks by wearing a plague doctor mask. His ominous presence reminds me of the task at hand. I search the room. I know Mr. Hook is here I can feel him. There will be no place to hide.
A gentleman in a deep red cloak and full face black mask cuts in next. His black leather gloved hands touch my silk clad ones and I am transported back in time to a secret masquerade ball in the canals of Paris. I know that my mind is playing tricks, but the fantasy is so very real. We are a contrast of light and dark, goodness and evil. It is a final waltz from which there is no escape. Life clinging to death as we move about the room. Candelabras are everywhere. Their lights flicker and move with the music. We are surrounded and all alone at the same time. I am dancing with death, for tonight I become his mistress. His steps are light but unforgiving, I follow his lead matching step for step in a dizzying pace. There is no turning back my heart beats so wildly I fear it will leave my chest.
Round and round we go until a familiar voice behind me calls out to stop us.
“Excuse me. May I cut in.” His voice sounds deeper, like aged whiskey. I freeze instantly too frightened to take another step. X must have made it out of the fountain. Shit! I am both excited and scared to death to face him. Slowly, I spin around, my stomach in my heaving chest, but instead of X before me is the six-foot-two salt and pepper billionaire I have been searching for all night. He is dressed in an over the top black and gold brocade and striped suit with a gold mask adorned with black filigree. Every detail of his ensemble appears to be custom Alexander Amosu. The gold stitching I know is real as is every diamond. The prize I have been waiting for at last stands before me.
I smile demurely and take his outstretched hand. The party is finally beginning. He raises my hand and kisses it. I can’t help but picture X and remember the way his touch affected my entire body. I briefly wonder if any man will ever make me feel like that again.
“I’ve been watching you,” he confesses. “I saw you leave with my young protégé earlier and I must admit I was surprised to see you come back. If I had you in my arms I would never let you go.”
He pulls me to him and we begin to dance. I follow his lead and try to project the same excitement that I had earlier, though that part of me it seems will only ever belong to X. I channel the drugs and try to relive the feeling. We move around the room and the macabre patrons back up and give us room. I am dancing with the king.
“I came back because I wanted to meet you,” I reply in his native Norwegian giving his hand a squeeze. He pulls me a little tighter. His large hand is planted firmly in the small of my back. I am in the arms of one of the most powerful men in the world. The gravity of what is about to happen weighs on me like a great iron safe full of secrets and lies.
He looks shocked at first hearing a voice from home here in London. “Where are you from, my dear and what brings you to London?” he asks eyeing me suspiciously.
I bat my eyes and look up at him hesitantly. “I was born and raised in Bergen. I am studying clinical medicine at Cambridge. One of my best girlfriends at University works for Madame Gadero. When she told me of your party … Well … I just had to meet you,” I say with all the innocence and eagerness of a school girl meeting her idol.
“Of course you did, my dear. Call me Erik will you, darling.” His smug self-confidence oozes from every gold seam. He can have any woman in here and he knows it. But he is with me. I have to keep it that way. I trace my fingers back and forth along his shoulder as we move in circles. He is smiling down at me and I can almost picture X in his place. “You are truly exquisite,” he whispers against my ear. I feel him breathing me in. He groans and I can tell the pheromones are working.
This is all business but I need him to feel the same exhilaration that X gave me. I need him to want to trust me. I close my eyes and imagine X has me wrapped in his arms. “There is nowhere in the world I would rather be than in your embrace. I’ve waited all night for the chance to be with you,” I whisper and he pulls me tighter to him.
His strong hands remind me of X’s. My drug infested mind plays tricks on me. Under the mask even his eyes seem similar. I know this is all in my head which is spinning out of control. I let my head rest on his shoulder when the tempo slows. I long to keep my eyes closed until this is all over but I know better. I likely won’t survive the night. The clock is ticking and I have a job to do.
The Lord and Lady Hedrick waltz over to us in all of their finery. I can’t get over the intricacy of their costumes. This close I can see the sheer beauty of her stunning gold mask adorned with bright green filigree, and covered with emerald and diamond accents. She reminds me of Mother Nature. A large plume of green and gold feathers jet off to one side like a beacon and bob and sway with her every movement. Her dress is truly fitting for a royal. The yards of rich fabrics have been custom designed just for her. The emerald gown is the same deep green as X’s eyes. The fine gold lace that covers the bodice shines as if the threads are made of real gold. Small and medium emeralds and gold ingots form a high waistband before yards of satin and tulle spill carefree to the floor. She laughs and talks to her husband as she looks up at him adoringly. I can’t help but feel a little jealous of their bond.
That life isn’t for me. I am a harlot, a siren, and I have a job to do. Erik talks about an upcoming meeting with Lord Fredrickson. I memorize the details but remain silent. To him I am a decoration to be used as he pleases. That’s exactly how I like it. I will keep quiet, he will never suspect me. I am at home in the shadows and the lies. I will be his arm candy through every deal, every encounter. Only a trophy, they won’t even know I’m here. I will learn all his tricks, and at the end of the day when we are finally alone he’ll never know what hit him.
The music picks back up and we are once again on the move. “You dance like an angel, my darling. So light on your feet. What is your name?” he asks as he parades me around the room so that every man here can see his prize.
“Does it really matter?” I ask honestly. I am very aware of his reputation with women. I smile at him like a naïve kitten with star struck eyes. The surprised but amused smile on his face tells me we both know the truth.
“Humor me,” he replies and toys with my hair. Dark locks are finding their way out of the updo. He wraps his thick fingers around one and caresses it fondly.
“Lorelei,” I respond and hide the cringe I feel inside. The last thing I want is for him to take me traipsing through the garden to some midnight fountain and find X unconscious with his pants down.
He says nothing for a moment but looks me over as if he is trying to gauge if I am telling the truth. My heart rate picks up. I’m blowing this. Why didn’t I just choose a respectable name like Carmen, or fucking Jane. “My mother was a bit of a romantic,” I explain, heat rising in my cheeks.
His face softens, he must find my embarrassment endearing. “It’s lovely, my compliments to your mother.” He gave me a twirl and then pulled me back to him. “Lorelei, it’s my pleasure to meet you.” He takes my hand and kisses it. The scene is all too familiar. I guess it should be no surprise that X learned his Casanova ways from his mentor. I know better than to fall for their charms.
We move past the great clock and the hands taunt me. Only forty minutes left. How will I ever finish in time. I need an excuse to leave the party with him. I need to get him alone. If I seem too eager, though, he may lose interest or worse suspect something and have me detained. The flame from a fire breather comes a bit too close and shatters my thoughts. I gasp and cling to Erik.
“Relax, my darling,” he soothes in his thick Norwegian accent. His strong arms are like tree trunks. It is no wonder he has crushed his competitors. Erik rose to power in the shipping industry in the late seventies. He is known to be shrewd and ruthless but a genius they say at predicting which shipments are worth the gamble and which are not. The shipping industry is one of great risk and even greater reward. No matter what my personal feelings are I have to admire his skill.
But personal feelings have no place in what I am about to do. This is all business. Something he would understand completely. I wonder for a moment if we had met under different circumstances if we would have been allies. I shake the thought from my head. Thoughts like that will get me killed. I let my fingers trail up and down the exquisite fabric of his suit. So this is what a forty-five-thousand-dollar suit feels like. I can hear mother telling me fabric doesn’t make a suit, the man makes the suit. I have to agree, Mr. Hook is a force to be reckoned with. Ironic that a man so great will fall at the hands of someone as small and insignificant as me.
The music stops, the lights dim and a single spotlight shines on the center of the conservatory floor. Everyone stops moving. Erik wraps his arm around my waist and we wait. At first nothing happens. What the hell is going on? I look up at him but he just nods toward the center of the floor where a single white sash has dropped from the ceiling all the way to the floor. An absolutely gorgeous blond woman in a shimmering leotard slides down the sash one leg wrapped around it and her arms gracefully out to each side. She is an aerialist of unmatched skill and ability. Her skin is covered with some kind of glitter and she radiates every beam of light. A second sash drops to the floor and a slow mysterious serenade begins. I watch her in awe as she seems to roll and twist up the ropes. Her strength and grace remind me of gymnasts on the rings defying gravity with each breathtaking move. Something about her is very familiar but I can’t place it. I can’t take my eyes off her. She rolls down the sashes rapidly almost hitting the floor and the crowd gasps. When she is only a few feet off the floor she stops suddenly and tips her head back. Our eyes meet. Shit! I know her.
She spins away and rolls back up the sash but I am frozen with fear. My heart pounds like a bass drum in a great marching band and a sheen of sweat breaks out on my palms. It is a full minute before I remember that I am wearing a mask and standing in the dark. There is no way she could have recognized me. My mind flashes back to the last time I saw her. Her bright blue eyes were wide with fear, her pale face strained from lack of oxygen as my hands closed in around her throat. Then the rush of pink as the blood returned when they pulled me off of her. I was just a child but that was the day my life changed forever. My, what different roads we have traveled. Yet here we are.
“What’s the matter, darling? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Erik tips his head in concern. Damn that mask, I can’t tell if he is serious or patronizing me. Does he know? How could he? This night is so fucked up. “If you would like I can introduce you after the show,” he offers.
“You know her?” I ask hesitantly. He nods and gives a half grin that tells me, he knows her very well. Of course he does. This small world is coming full circle. But then that’s the whole point isn’t it? I remind myself. What will I do if she recognizes me? I fight down the panic. The crowd cheers as she performs another death defying feat. Breathe, I remind myself. There is no way, different eye color, hair color, different language and accent. My own mother wouldn’t recognize me. Still the closer we get to the end of the song the worse my nausea becomes.
She twists to the top and drops for one final grand display and the moment I have been dreading finally arrives. The lights come up and Erik takes me by the hand and leads me over to the beautiful woman she has become.
“Sasha. So good to see you.” He embraces her and kisses each cheek.
“Erik, my love, thank you for inviting me. I hope the show was to your liking.” Sasha hugs him back with a familiarity that makes my skin crawl. She turns to me and smiles raising her eyebrows. “Who’s your lovely friend?”
He places his massive hand on the small of my back possessively. “Sasha this is Lorelei.”
“Lorelei …” She repeated as if she was tasting a wine she wasn’t quite sure she liked. “Interesting name yes? Like the story. The fish girl … yes?” Her English was still partially broken with her Russian accent.
Siren, you bitch. I think as my cheeks flush. “Something like that,” I answer as sweetly as possible.
Suddenly she cocks her head to the left. “Have we met?” she asks and looks me over. Bile rises in the back of my throat.
“I don’t think so.” I furrow my brows as if I am searching my memory for a time when our paths may have crossed. “Did you ever come to Bergen to perform with Les 7 doigts de la main?” As the second largest city in Norway, Bergen is a perfect place to be from without having to know any common acquaintances.
“No, but I have seen their show. Marvelous,” she replies. “Still, you are quite the picture. There is just something familiar about you.” She takes a sparkling finger and trails it down my bare arm to the edge of my silk glove. The drugs heighten every physical contact and I shudder at her touch but do not pull away. A beam of satisfaction spreads over her face.
Shit. “Maybe I just have one of those faces,” I stammer although half my face is covered by the mask.
“Maybe,” she answers smugly, not at all convinced. “I wouldn’t mind exploring further though,” she adds and twirls a loose lock of hair in her fingers. I fight the will to stiffen and plaster a smile on my face. I have always hated her playing with my hair. Does she know it’s me? Before I can say anything Erik jumps in.
“Care to join us on my private terrace for the fireworks?” he asks Sasha and gives me a squeeze. “There is always room for one more.”
“Oh Erik, I would love to but I am supposed to meet X. Have you seen him?” Her eyes flash with excitement at the mention of his name and I can’t help the stabbing jealousy that spreads like poison in my bones. “We have … um … plans this evening,” she says and gives Erik a wink. “Next time for sure. If I don’t know this little doll I would like to.”
“He’s here, I saw him earlier,” Erik answers. She kisses us both on the cheek and then takes off in search of X. I hate the thought of her with my moonlit god in the garden. I resist the urge to chase her down and strangle her with her own sash. I have to get the image of the two of them out of my head. X is of no consequence, I remind myself. I have known him for about a minute. He is no one. Except now he knows I am potentially dangerous and he knows I am looking for Mr. Hook. What if he wakes up in time to stop me or have me arrested? What if those stupid panties didn’t get soaked and he is able to track me down. Shit. He was a mistake that I never should have let happen and never should have let him live. But I just couldn’t do it. I will never be able to tell mother about this. A thought creeps in and grips my soul. What if I can’t go through with it with Mr. Hook? What if when the moment comes I can’t do it. I feel dizzy and sway into Erik’s arms. He catches me and holds me close.
“Beklager,” I apologize still holding to his arms. “Perhaps I had a bit too much champagne.
“Ikke bekymre deg kjære,” he tells me not to worry. “Darling, let’s go to my private terrace to watch the midnight fireworks.”
I flash my big eyes up at him. That would be perfect. “Fireworks on the terrace?” I ask and give his arm a squeeze. “Those don’t start until midnight. We still have twenty minutes.”
“I’m sure we can find a way to pass the time,” he replies with a smile that could eat Kansas and he grabs a firm hold of my butt through the red fabric. “Yes, I’m sure we will find a way.”
He leads me out of the great conservatory and down a long marble hallway to the attached Syon Park Hotel. He has guards positioned at the entrance and guests are showing their room key to enter. Mr. Hook just nods at them and they open both doors in a grand gesture. They all work for him. When we enter the large open lobby every staff member is at attention and turn to watch us as our footsteps echo in the great space across the tile and wood floor. It is suddenly apparent he has rented the entire grounds, hotel and all. He truly is like a king in a castle. He nods and bids hello to each of them as we pass like royal subjects. The modern decor is somehow warm and inviting although I feel a bit like Alice with the oversized furniture and massive chairs.
The elevator attendant holds the door and we step inside the tile and mirrored enclave. Without asking, the attendant selects the top floor and we begin to rise. Erik stands behind me his arms wrapped around my waist. He exchanges knowing glances with the attendant. I am a prize he has won, a trophy to be manipulated as he sees fit. This time, my dear, it is the fly who lures the spider. I just hope I can outlast the effects of the drugs to get the job done. My head is spinning faster than The Eye of London. Round and round it goes. I close my eyes for a moment and all I can see is X and his beautiful green eyes looking back at me. Why of all nights did I have to meet him tonight. The thought of him in the moonlight causes a shiver to run over my body and a slight moan to escape my lips.
Erik shifts behind me and presses his thick bulge against my hip. I almost jump as my fantasy is broken and I realize once again where I am and what is about to happen. He groans and grips my thighs tightly pressing himself against the back of my dress. The elevator attendant looks away and pretends not to notice. Is he really going to take me right here in the elevator?
Mercifully the car stops. We have arrived at his penthouse suite. The entry hall is silent. I look around the silver and deep blue décor, it reminds me of an antique ice palace. The attendant leaves the elevator and opens the large black wooden double doors, to welcome us to Erik’s home for the evening. I realize that when I leave I will have to go back down that same elevator. Perhaps there is a staircase here somewhere. But that would seem obvious. Shit, the drugs are already giving me paranoia. I don’t have much longer. I contemplate turning and running back into the safety of the car and begging the attendant to call me a taxi or better yet an ambulance, but I have come too far to turn back now. Whatever mistakes I have made are mine to pay for.
“This way my love.” Erik motions me into the suite. The frosty midnight decor continues into the formal dining room. A large glass and mirrored table is surrounded by six deep blue gray upholstered chairs. A crystal chandelier hangs over the dining area. I set my small clutch on the table. He walks on into the living area and goes over to the mirrored bar and removes his mask. With the click of a remote the suite is filled with slow sultry music. The kind I want to make love to all night long. The melody and bass work together to incinerate my panties and get my hips moving before he even touches me.
The sofas are made of the same fabric as the dining chairs and the coffee table seems to be a smaller version of the table. “I would offer you a drink, darling, but it seems perhaps you have had enough for now.”
I start to protest but realize I am holding onto the table for support. Hesitantly, I reach up to remove my mask as he had done but he stops me.
“Keep it on,” he instructs. “I like it.” Thankfully, I comply. I can see the bedroom behind him. The bed catches my eye. I have never seen anything quite like it.
“Is that a four poster bed made of mirrored glass?” I ask perplexed. Each of the posts and the sides are like giant prisms jutting up out of the floor with deep blue leather upholstery on the headboard surrounded by the same mirrored glass.
He laughs a hard carefree belly laugh at my naïvety. “Stunning isn’t it? Nancy has been a friend of mine for many years.”
“Nancy?” I ask confused. How many women am I going to have to contend with tonight?
“Nancy Corzine, the designer,” he clarifies. “This entire suite is designed around her mirrored collection. It’s almost magical. Perfect for a Siren of the sea. Don’t you think, darling.”
I nod but I have to get a closer look at the masterpiece and I am already walking toward it. The reflective work of art is positioned against the far wall of the room. The thick deep blue and dusky silver billowy bed linens complement it perfectly. “This is magnificent,” is all I can manage to say.
“Wait till you see this.” He is still chuckling as he throws open the heavy drapes and turns off the lights. Moonlight spills into the enchanted room and reflects off every surface, sending fractals of light like icicles dancing about the room.
If I am to die tonight I am thankful to do it in this room. I only hope to be able to haunt it for eternity. He walks back into the living area to gather his whisky and returns to me. I know as soon as he stands close it is the Balvenie. Immediately I think of X. I both love and hate that he affects me so. I wanted to taste him desperately. I never dreamed I would meet someone like him. I wanted him to hold me and kiss me slow in the moonlight. I close my arms and imagine that once again we are dancing in the dark. I can feel his arms around me as we moved barefoot on the grass to music that drifted through the trees. It was perfect. I know that I will cherish the memory for as many days as I have left.
“Where did you go darling,” Erik whispers in my ear bringing me back to reality. I am standing in front of the window and he comes up wrapping his arms around me. He buries his face in the nape of my neck. His lips find my skin and make it crawl. I fight the urge to bolt. This is what I came here for. I am not a stranger to this darkness. No one would love me if they knew the truth. Even X was falling for the fantasy but that is only an illusion created to accomplish an unthinkable task.
I reach back and run my fingers through his hair. He moans into my skin and I close my eyes and pretend it is X. I am rolling with the music and grind against him. I can do this, I feel like a rock star. I know it’s just the drugs but I am rolling with the music. The bulge in his suit pants presses against my hips. Something makes me open my eyes. X!
I see him stagger out of the woods and fall on the grass. Oh God! I long to go to him. Fuck! I look at the clock there is only ten minutes to midnight. Ten fucking minutes. My heart is thrashing in my chest. I watch him try to get up and fall once again. When he makes it back to the hotel it’s all over. I have to get the fuck out of here.
“What are you looking at, my love?” Erik asks and starts to follow my gaze.
“Nothing, darling.” I almost shriek and pull the drapes closed. “I just had an idea. I pull an antique silver chair over, face it away from the window. “Please sit,” I ask him
He gets a cockeyed smiled on his face. It reminds me of the look on X’s face when I tied him up by the fountain. I undo his necktie and tie his wrists to the arms of the heavy wood chair.
He looks like a satisfied cat now ready to devour the mouse. Little does he know this mouse has teeth. “Dance for me,” he commands. I back away and comply. He has had women do this before. I can see from his calm experienced demeanor this is nothing new for him. I move to the music and let it take me away. As I rock and move running my hands over my body all I can think of is X. While part of me desperately wants him to be okay I need to finish this before he makes it back inside. That fucking clock is ticking too fucking fast. Just do it already, I command myself. But I am frozen. I just can’t
“Take it off,” he commands. His voice is darker, more carnal.
“What?” My heart is pounding so hard in my ears, I know that my heart rate and blood pressure are reaching near critical levels. Will I even live to finish this?
“The dress,” he repeats. “ Take it off.”
“Yes, sir.” Is all I can manage to answer. I move to the Cuban rhythm that fills the room, slow and seductive. Then I stop suddenly remembering that I have no panties.
“What’s wrong?” he asks frustrated. Why did you stop?
“I … I …” Shit! What do I say? “I … don’t have any panties on,” I stammer as heat flushes my cheeks. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But now …” I look down at the floor. Embarrassment fills me and covers me with shame. What the hell am I doing standing in front of a man, as handsome as he is almost three times my age with no fucking panties. Why did I have to meet X. Fate, you cruel fucking bitch. This dark and shady life was all I needed before you. Why did you have to show me more. Why did you do this to me?
“Show me,” he growls now like a lion ready and alive with need. He grips the arms of the chair. His eyes shine with anticipation and he reminds me so much of X.
Slowly I unzip the last of the dress and let it fall to the floor. This is me. I stand in only the corset and my heels. My chest barely contained in the corset heaves before him with each breath.
“Turn around.” His command is not a request. I move slowly in a circle, on full display. “Very nice. Now on your knees. Crawl to me slowly. Take your time.”
I obey and lower myself to the ground. Moving like a lioness across the Savannah I crawl on my hands and knees toward him ass and heels in the air. I move ever so slowly though I am aware that time is running out and God only knows where X is right now. When I reach him I open my mouth and lick the edge of my upper teeth.
“Open my pants,” he directs.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper on my knees between his legs and I reach forward and begin to undo his clasp and zipper. This is it. I’ve crept into your bed and your heart. There is no escaping me now. I force myself not to rush but the zipper gets caught on the silk fabric. “I’m sorry, sir.” Fuck, why now? Fate, I think you fucking hate me. I glance at the clock, five minutes. I have to make this work. I grip the zipper with my teeth care full not to leave any trace of lipstick on his clothes. Then use my hands to loosen the fabric and pull it free. With the zipper out of the way my tiny hands find his thick uncircumcised cock.
He laughs heartily. “Well that’s one way to do it. Lorelie, you never cease to amaze me.” He looks at me as if I am a good pet. “I’m going to keep you. Now sit on my big cock and kiss me,” he directs. My hands tremble as I help myself up off the floor. Jesus, why don’t I have my panties. I know this is part of my job but I desperately need to pretend I am somewhere else.
I know what to say. I know what to do. This is all part of the rehearsed dance with the devil. But somehow the game has changed. Could I have really given up everything for a chance with X? The idea of trashing years of training for a total stranger although a pretty one is ludicrous. It had to be the effect of the drugs.
Erik has no idea I am thinking of X instead of him. He looks at me through hooded lids veiled in lust. Slowly I slip one leg through the opening on the right side of the chair and place my hands onto his shoulders as I put my left leg through the opening on the other side. I am standing straddling him now. Can I really bring myself to do this? The heat radiates off his body and burns the backs of my thighs. I reach behind him and rip open the curtains. X is nowhere to be seen! Fuck! I am out of time. Frantically I search what I can see of the grounds. What if he has already made it back to the hotel? I search again but find nothing.
The clouds shift and I see the reflection of my body in the glass like a voyeur to my own movie. The masked woman before me has the devil in her eyes. Is this who I have become? Her chest moves up and down with a mix of excitement and dread in a corset that barely contains her breasts. Chocolate locks spill untamed from her once updo around the mask that hides everything she really feels.
“You are a picture of perfection,” he whispers and I move just for him teasing his waiting cock with my ass in an erotic lap dance. This is going to be his last so I make it good. The plan is to strike at exactly midnight so that any noise will be covered by the midnight fireworks. What if X is on his way up here right now? If he is in the hotel I am screwed. What if he has already called the police?
I should just bolt and get the fuck out of here. The window of escape narrows with every minute that passes. But I know I can’t go home a failure. How will they look at me if I don’t follow this through? I run my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. I think it was blond once. I twist my body up and down to the music, my breasts grazing his waiting mouth and pull away to swipe my bare ass over his eager pole.
“You are killing me,” he breathes through gritted teeth as he catches the hem of my corset.
“You have no idea,” I reply and continue my dance with death. I know that time is running out. The drugs are taking on a life of their own. Each note of the music explodes like bubbles of color that float around the room in the silvery light. I could move forever in this trance but I know any moment the music will end. I can almost imagine X bursting through the door. I catch a glance at the clock, two minutes. One hundred twenty seconds and it will all be over.
“I need to be in you,” he confesses and struggles against the silk tie. “Release me.”
“Just a little while longer, my love,” I soothe knowing it’s now or never. I close my eyes pretend it is X that I am lowering my body down onto. He groans as the head of his cock presses against my wet sensitive opening. If I keep my eyes closed he feels just like I imagine X would forcing his way into me. I brace my hands on his shoulders as I begin to move back and forth grinding my hips into his. I am stretched beyond belief by his thick cock. In my mind’s eye it is X between my legs in this magnificent suite ruining me for any other man. I work harder. I need to feel the release. The fervor of emotion is too much for me to bear.
“Fuck, Lorelei! You are a hellcat. Let me free! I need to hold you,” he yells and arcs his hips into me.
I ride him like there is no tomorrow. I hate him. I hate everything about this moment but I will not stop until one of us falls over dead.
The clock begins to chime and in the great window before me the first firework shoots like a rocket spiraling into the sky. The second it explodes I bend forward and my lips find his. I wrap my hands around his head and pull him into the kiss. Mouths open we are fully engaged in in unbridled passion. I continue to rock back and forth picking up tempo with the heat of the moment as fireworks explode all around us. Our tongues explore and debase one another and I am getting close when suddenly he stops and his eyes fly wide open.
Sweat covers his forehead and he grips the arms of the chair and then begins to scream. “What have you done to me, you venomous bitch.” I scramble and fall back off his lap onto the floor. I can barely breathe. I shake all over as I watch him vomit on the floor. He is furious and fights against the restraints for all he is worth.
Oh sweet God. What have I done? Tears form in my eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” I mumble over and over. I have never taken a life before. All of the years of training never prepared me for this. Somehow I thought it would be quick and painless. This is horrific.
The veins in his head and neck bulge and I can see his heart pulsing in them. He looks like he will explode. His eyes are strained and he has them fixed on me.
“I am going to fucking kill you.” He foams as he screams. Before I realized what is happening he breaks the arm of the chair and rips the tie from his hands. I turn to run and he starts after me, but he trips over his pants that are around his ankles and falls onto the floor like a great oak in the forest.
“Fuck!” I scream as he catches my ankle and I hit the floor half of my body in the next room. I desperately reach for anything to help me get away but he is pulling me toward him. I hold onto the doorframe and kick wildly. But he is so much bigger and stronger than me. The drugs are taking longer to affect him. I have built up years of tolerance but I am less than half his weight and he is a lifelong fighter.
He almost crushes my ankle with his bare fist and pulls himself on top of me. He looks like a rabid bull as his hand closes in around my throat. His entire face is blood red and the sweat is dripping off in buckets. Blood drips from his nose but he only squeezes harder.
“I’m taking you straight to hell with me,” he growls with the hate and fury of a man who has nothing left to lose. I fight and claw wildly but he is too strong. I kick, knocking over the end table and the crystal lamp crashes to the floor.
Pain and panic take over and adrenaline rushes through my body like a wildfire. I grasp around blindly for something to hit him with. I have to break free. The drugs in my system act against me and my vision blurs.
There is no air. My lungs burn and my head feels like it’s going to explode. My brain is a balloon that someone is squeezing in the middle while air is continually pumped in with no way of escape. The immense pressure on my carotid arteries throws my heart out of rhythm and it beats erratically causing me to gasp but I can get nothing in. I fight against him, trying with everything in me to loosen his fingers and pry them from my throat. I do not want to die in this room. His eyes glaze over but he never takes them off me. Even as the world begins to darken I can still see him.
At once his body stiffens and then stills. His bright red face goes pale and his eyes go dark as his heart finally arrests from the drugs. His hands are still clamped tightly around my throat when he collapses on top of me. I scramble like a wild animal to remove them and then crawl backward to get away. I am sobbing and gasping for air. My entire body shakes uncontrollably as I stare at the lifeless body of this once great man. I can’t believe what I have just done. Oh my God. Oh God. He is dead. He is really fucking dead. I fight the urge to vomit. I can’t. I have to go. I have to get the hell out of here. Shit what will I say if someone comes in?
I fight to get a hold of myself. Breathe, Gabby. For God sake breathe. I rock back and forth trying to get control. Blood spills from his nose onto the carpet. I look down and realize it is on my chest and hands. Fuck me. I have to get out of here. I try to stand but my heart is still beating out of control and the drugs are plaguing my system. I know I am minutes from suffering the same fate as my giant foe.
Unable to stand I crawl with my hands balled in fists so that I don’t leave bloody fingerprints across the living space to the dining room. I reach the table and grab the small clutch. I pull it open and two vials fall onto the floor. My vision blurs. I struggle to read which is the pheromones and which is the antidote. My time is up. One will save me, one will finish the job. With a trembling hand I open a vial. Either way this is about to be over. Te amo mi querida niña. Brilla mi amor, como las estrellas. “Shine my love like the stars,” I whisper to the empty room and down the contents. My head swirls wildly and the room goes dark.
I don’t know how much time has passed but I feel as though I have been beaten when I first open my eyes. Perhaps it was all a really bad dream. At first I can see nothing then I realize the mask is over my eyes. I put it back into place and squint through blurry vision, as it sharpens I see the trashed hotel suite and I know this fucking nightmare is as real as it gets and it’s not over yet. I have to get the hell out of here. I pick up my clutch making sure to get everything back inside. I am still incredibly woozy but I force myself to stand and stagger toward the bedroom. I am still naked except my ripped corset. I stumble over the large corpse that blocks the bedroom door being careful not to touch him and collect one shoe at a time.
I glance at the clock, twelve ten. My car should be outside right now. I quickly grab my dress and put it on. I stagger into the bathroom and take a look in the mirror. Oh holy hell. My hair is sticking up in every possible direction. I look more like a homeless woman than the belle of a ball. My mascara is smudged down my cheeks and blood is spattered across my face and neck. A large ring of bruises are already visible around my neck like a great purple collar.
I start to use a cloth to wash off but realize anything I do will leave more evidence. I run my hands under the cool water and use them to wash the blood and makeup from my face and replace my mask. I straighten my hair the best I can and pin it back as much as possible. I just have to walk from the elevator through the lobby to the waiting car. I can do this.
What the hell am I going to say to the elevator attendant? Shit we have to ride all the way down together. I sit and carefully put my shoes back on. I can’t stop staring at his lifeless form and I know that I will never get it out of my mind. I have to take the stairs. I can’t bear to look the attendant in the face. I put my head in my hands and force myself not to cry. Making sure that I have gathered everything that I came in with I stand facing the door. I take one long look back at Mr. Hook and then step into the hall.
I look up and down the exquisite entry but there is no one around. Quietly I make my way around the corner to the stairwell. My heels echo with each contact on the concrete steps. My palms are sweating and my entire body trembles as I struggle to make it down all six flights of stairs. I fear at any moment hordes of policemen will bombard the tomblike space. When I reach the ground floor I peer through the narrow window to the lobby.
Unfortunately my little escapade was much longer than planned and instead of a deserted lobby while everyone was out watching the fireworks, I now have to walk through grand fucking central. Perhaps I can blend with the crowd.
I open the door and the sheer volume of noise takes me by surprise. Music is still thumping and most people seem to have had a few too many. This is good. I just have to walk to the doors on the other side. One hundred feet to freedom. I square my shoulders and will my body not to tremble. I can do this. I will do this.
I start toward the grand entrance making eye contact with no one. The crowd revels around me but they are oblivious to my presence. Seventy-five feet. I continue walking and almost stumble over a drunken woman in a yellow dress who staggers and falls into me. I help stand her up right and continue on. Everyone seems to be business as usual. The party goes on despite the fact that the benefactor lies dead on the penthouse floor with his pants around his ankles. I can’t get the image of him out of my head. Fifty feet. I’m going to make it.
“Ma’am …” someone calls out but I keep walking. “Ma’am,” the voice calls again more urgently.
Panic hits me and I have to fight myself not to sprint the last fifty feet to the door. The man catches up and steps in front of me. It is the concierge of the hotel. Fuck.
“Ma’am, you dropped your clutch back there.” He places the black sparkling bag in my hand. “Ma’am, are you okay? You don’t look like you are feeling so well. Maybe you should …” before he can finish something behind me catches his eye.
A puzzled look comes across his face. “Mr. Hook! he exclaims. What the hell happened to you?”
Ice water instantly flows through my veins and all the air is sucked out of the room. My terrified heart takes off like the starting line of the Indy 500. I close my eyes afraid to look behind me. But I can’t stop the reaction to turn and look. I can’t believe my eyes as the concierge pushes past me to help X.
“Mr. Hook, what happened to you?” The concierge repeats and the crowd closes in around a soaking wet X. Water drips onto the floor around his feet. He says nothing but he doesn’t take his eyes off me.
I can’t bring myself to move. Mr. Hook is dead upstairs. This can’t be. I struggle to breathe. What the hell is going on?
“Bastian!” I hear a woman exclaim as she pushes past me and runs to him. “Are you okay? What happened?” Suddenly it all falls into place.
I can barely feel my feet move as the crowd between us grows. He is preoccupied with them and I slip away. Somehow I stumble to the waiting limo. As the door closes I see him pushing through the crowd. The driver calmly walks around and we pull away just as he makes it to the doors. I watch out the back window as he bursts out into the night and I get one final look at the man of my dreams and evidently not so estranged son of my first ever kill, Bastian Xavier Hook.
Fate, you are the cruelest siren of all.