Reservation (Preservation Series) (27 page)

A busty brunette with a serving tray appeared in the doorway and I immediately recognized her. “Hey, Stephanie. I’m not a fan of this stuff.” I gestured to what the bar had to offer. “Bring me tonight’s special instead, please. Make it a double. And something to eat, too. Whatever’s on the menu.”

“Certainly, Mr. Campbell.” She smiled coyly before letting her eyes roam the room. “And for your company?”

“No company.”

She blinked in disbelief. “Oh, Charles must be sending some up, then?”

“No. It’s just me tonight.”

“Um…alright.”

“That’ll be all, Stephanie,” I said curtly.

“Certainly, sir. If you change your mind and want some company, I get off in one hour.” She slinked out the door and I couldn’t help but notice her thigh-high stockings and black mini skirt. It barely covered her ass, and her matching silk halter top dropped low down her back, exposing just the right amount of skin. She always knew how to tease.

I shut the door behind her, leaning against it with a deep breath. My eyes scanned the room frantically, wondering how long I could stay there. The Chateau was always open until three a.m., but then what? Have Charles call me a cab? The thought of going back to my empty apartment ripped me right in half. All I’d do at home was lose my goddamn mind. I needed distractions.

Stephanie knocked and I shoved myself off the door, moving to let her enter with the tray. She set my drink and food down on the bar counter and my gaze landed on her skirt again.

Yes. Lots and lots of distractions.

In here I was safe from the paparazzi, safe from the questions that awaited me after the pictures from the Henson event and Amy Mercer’s interview were released, but I couldn’t hide out forever.

“Thank you,” I said, prying my eyes from her thighs to turn back to the bar. I gripped the edge of the counter, my back to her.

She seemed to notice my appraisal, because she shut the door and came to stand behind me, her eyes finding mine in the mirror. We stared at one another, the glass connecting us in a way that instantly made me uncomfortable. “You know,” she spoke quietly, lifting a hand to my shoulder, “VIP rooms really aren’t made for alone time.”

“I’m aware of that.”

She held my stare but didn’t move, keeping her hand on my shoulder. “But they are for broken hearts. And voids.”

“Stephanie,” I warned, squeezing my eyes shut. “Don’t.”

“I remember your face when you first started coming in. I remember the pain. You have that same look right now. Only…it’s worse.”

My eyes opened, finding her again in the mirror. “Please get out.”

“Let me make you feel better. Just like old times, huh? Let yourself have a little fun, Ryan. It eases the burden.” She pressed her front to my back and her hand snaked around me, fingers pressing down against my sternum. They started traveling downward and I stilled.

“I said no,” I snapped, bumping her arm away. “You’re still on the clock, for fuck’s sake. Now please leave me alone and go do your damn job.”

Her chin dropping in embarrassment, she stepped back without a word and retrieved her serving tray. She quietly slipped out the door and I ripped my tie off, tossing it to the floor in frustration. Bracing my body against the bar counter, I studied my face in the mirror. My fingers clenched the black granite tightly, my jaw tense and eyes plagued with anguish.

What was I doing here? This was the last place I should be.

I reached for my drink, gulping hard and fast, thankful the buzz was already starting to kick in. There was another knock on the door and this time I swung around, storming toward it with fierce determination. Damn it! What part of ‘no one is to bother me’ did Charles not understand? I paid him double just to ensure my privacy. After this, I was locking the damn door.

“What is it, Stephanie? I already told you—” I yanked the door open, freezing on the spot.

“I knew you’d come home,” Amy purred, letting herself in. She strode right past me and walked to the bar. She started pouring herself a drink and I just stood there, mouth agape.

“Are you fucking following me?”

Her eyes flickered to mine in the mirror, a hint of irritation flaring in them. “Don’t flatter yourself, Ryan. Unlike your pathetic groupies, I actually have a life.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here?”

“You really have to ask that question? This is still my favorite hunting ground. I saw you come in downstairs.” She smirked and turned to face me. “You should see some of the new members. You’d like.” She winked and sipped her drink, leaning back to rest against the bar.

“I paid for privacy tonight, Amy. Now get out or I’ll have Charles send security to escort you out.”

She threw her head back and laughed as she began to stroll toward me. My hand was still gripping the doorknob, the door open wide. “You’re in such denial. It’s actually kinda cute.” Nudging my hand from the knob, she slammed the door shut and turned to lean against it, the tips of her shoes inches from mine. “By the look of that empty shot glass over there and that distraught look on your face, I’d say you’re exactly where you
should
be right now. And yet still you stand here, fighting it. What do I have to do to make you see some sense, Mr. Campbell?”

My gaze dropped to her chest as she began undoing her blouse buttons, trailing lazy fingers over each one, her sultry eyes watching me carefully as she worked. I took in the curves of her breasts. They spilled over a white lacy bra, swamping me with memories. My legs were stationed to the floor, my whole body sinking into quicksand. Tears welled up in my eyes, threatening to overtake me in realization that she was right.

I wanted this. Needed it. I knew what she was about to give me—a kind of control no other woman had ever given me before. No objections or bouts of jealousy when she saw me with other women, no arguments when she suspected I was seeing someone else. With Amy, there was never any lack of trust, any tiring accusations. No complications whatsoever. No accountability, no guilt, no nothing. Just simple satisfaction and mind-numbing pleasure.

She could offer all of this to me because she wasn’t affected by any of those things. She knew what she wanted and when she wanted it, and she possessed a similar trait I was all too familiar with—selfishness. When it came to taking what she wanted, she never let her conscience get in the way. That was something I initially struggled with, but it didn’t take long for her to show me how to turn off that switch. “Let go of guilt,” she’d said the first time she took me to The Chateau. “It’s all in the mind. Let your instinct and your natural desire for pleasure guide you. Pleasure is your slave. Direct and use it as you wish. Those who freely give it to you must deal with the consequences on their own. The moment they surrender their touch, they are no longer your responsibility. They are agents of free will.”

As if reading my mind, Amy spoke up again, letting her blouse drop to the floor. “Do not feel guilty for who you are, Ryan.” She drifted forward, bringing her chest to mine, her breasts pressing against me as her arms came up to clasp around my neck. Her tongue darted out and drew a trail along her lower lip. “Let me remind you.”

“I can’t,” I whispered.

She tilted her chin up to lick my lips, and all of the blood shot straight to my groin when I felt her hand drop to the inside of my thigh, her fingers spreading to cup me. “You will.”

Her words possessed me, and before I could blink, I pounced and pushed her backward against the door. She moaned in appreciation, moving to rip my shirt off, opening willingly for me as my tongue sought hers, hard and demanding at her mouth. I yanked hard at the nape of her neck, pulling at her hair to give me exposure to her throat. As I leaned down to taste her skin, I caught a whiff of vanilla and I flinched. The familiar scent felt foreign, everything about it wrong. I gasped against her neck, feeling the tears spill down my cheeks and onto her skin. I shuddered, covering her body in my warmth, encasing her against the door.

“Fuck this,” I mumbled, pulling back to wipe at the tears. Tugging her bra straps down, I forcefully ripped at the white lace cups, tearing the garment from her body and leaving it rumpled and torn on the floor. She smiled in pure satisfaction as I leaned in to scoop her up and throw her half-naked body onto the chaise. She landed on her back with an enthusiastic yelp and I swung around to the bar for one last drink. Chugging back the shot of liquor, I caught one last glimpse of my glassy eyes and red cheeks in the mirror.

I was no better than Danny. No better than the man I used to be. But at least I was in control.

13. FAMINE

I strolled toward the edge of the chaise with an easy gait, the last shot of liquor still ablaze in my throat, fueling me with the confidence I’d always found here at The Chateau. Here, the women I had chosen came to me to be controlled, because they wanted to submit. That assurance was like a fiery high in my veins. Nothing tasted sweeter.

Except Kate, but I couldn’t even think of her name right now.

Not in this room, not while Amy was leaning back on her elbows, glaring up at me, letting her legs fall open in invitation. The forcefulness of my kiss had accelerated her breath. Her bare breasts heaved as she worked to control her gasps, and the image catapulted me back to so many times before this, when I’d given her exactly what she wanted and in return, she’d given me exactly what I’d needed.

And right now, I needed that comfort more than ever.

“Panties off. Flip over. Now.” My voice dropped low, deadly. I widened my stance at the edge of the chaise, feet spread apart. She flashed me that wicked smile of hers and immediately did as she was told, sliding her white lace panties out from under her skirt and down her silky legs. Then she was flipped over on her hands and knees, head down, waiting for my instruction. I assessed her from head to toe, flexing my neck and shoulder muscles before turning to the bar to down the last of the clear liquid in my glass. I swallowed forcefully, fighting against the lump in my throat, and slammed the glass down. I returned to my position, bending over to yank a handful of blonde hair into my fist, pulling her head back. I brought my lips to her ear. “What do you say, Miss Mercer?”

She closed her eyes, wincing when I gave her hair another tug. “Yes, sir.”

I stumbled back to standing position, moving to pull her backward by the waist, so her feet hit my thighs. She moaned, and a sickening mixture of bile rising in the back of my throat and the need to drive into her tackled my tipsy brain. I trailed my fingers under the hem of her skirt, swallowing hard.

“Please,” she begged, shivering at my touch. “Ryan, please don’t make me wait.”

My hand sprang forward and slapped the top of her thighs, where they met the juncture of her ass, and she sucked in a breath, her back arching. “Don’t speak to me. Don’t call me by name. You don’t get to use my name, do you understand me?”

Her head lifted and she glanced over her shoulder, locking gazes with me. “Oh, what, I can’t say your name anymore, like your precious Kate can?”

Adrenaline coursed through me at the mention of Kate’s name, and I yanked her head back again, bringing my hot breath to her chin. She winced but smiled. She was relishing this. “You don’t get to say her name, either,” I seethed, lacing the words with vicious venom. “Now do you want it or not? This is on my terms.”

“See?” She licked her bottom lip while my fist clenched a wad of her blonde hair tight against her cheek. “People don’t change. Yes, I want it, sir.”

My jaw flexed at her words. Leaning down, my back pressing against hers, I brought my mouth down on her gloss-covered lips, hot and demanding, and she let me take her, opening to grant me access. I jerked away to flip her back over so she was facing me, taking her wrists in my hands to pin her beneath me. My eyes swam with a new wave of tears as I looked down at her bright blonde hair, fake breasts, and empty eyes. All so, so rotten from the inside out.

“What the hell are you waiting for?” She bucked beneath me, attempting to wrap a leg around my waist, struggling to pull me closer. “I want you, sir.
Now
.”

“You’re not her,” I whispered. “You’re not the answer.”

Her eyes shifted from lust-filled to pools of hate, her lips pressing tight and cheeks bright red. “You’re mine, Ryan. That will never change.”

I gently released her wrists and stood straight, retreating back to give her space. “You can’t own something that never belonged to you in the first place. My heart isn’t yours. Never was.” I pivoted around to search for my jacket, then my tie from the floor.

“Maybe not, but your body is mine. That I know for a fact,” she spat, sitting up to glower at me.

“You’re wrong, Amy. The body follows wherever the heart goes. That’s what it belongs to. And my heart’s not in this fucking room.” I shot her one last look before flinging the door open and stepping out into the hall, pausing for a second to steady myself against the stairway railing. I slipped my jacket on and started for the spiral staircase, asking Charles to call me a cab the second I reached the club’s exit. As security escorted me through the swarms of fans and photographers waiting outside so I could step into the cab, I didn’t look back at The Chateau’s sign.

I didn’t look back at all.