Sexy as Hell Box Set (100 page)

“Thank you, Sir,” I said, sighing at how quickly our time here had gone. “I suppose we’d better think about leaving then.”

“We had fun here, didn’t we?” he asked. “I don’t really want to go home, if I’m honest. I don’t want to share you again.”

“You won’t have to, you know that.” I smiled brightly. “Listen, how about, on our way home, we talk about how things are going to be. Wh
at stuff of mine I should bring to yours and what exciting things we can dream up for Sexy as Hell”—I paused, giving him what I hoped was a particularly sinister grin—“and how we’ll dispose of Mary’s body without anyone suspecting it’s us.”

“Christ, Zara, you’re so bad,” he said, pulling me to him and kissing my neck
, over the small bite mark he’d created up against the tree in Tuscany. Wow, so much had happened since then.

“I know
I’m bad, but you love it really. You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

After Victor had seen to the checkout details at reception we stepped into the drizzly Venice morning.

I turned up the collar on my fake fur coat and Victor wrapped his arm around me, his leather jacket squeaking slightly as he pulled me close.

“
I’ve just had a text to say the plane is delayed on its inbound journey, because of fog, so we’ll take our time getting to the airport,” he said. “Especially as we don’t have the luggage to worry about. Perhaps even stop for a bite to eat.”

“Eat? Are you really hungry after that
huge breakfast?” My steps fell in time with his as we walked beyond The Baglioni and into a narrow alley lined by an eerily still canal.

“
Er, well, no, not really. We’ll just explore then, catch some last few sights.”

That suited me. I was glad of any extra moments in Venice with Victor. It was, after all, the only romantic weekend I’d ever had. Plus the hotel had arranged for our bags to be taxied to the private departure gate at the airport so without them rattling behind us, we could meander as one—arms linked, bodies close, moist breaths billowing together. Even the fog, shimmying up from the water to meet a white, ghostly sun, couldn’t detract
me from my happiness.

“So what sights haven’t we seen?” I asked, watching an old woman in a black floral headscarf with a hideously bent back tug a small, wiry-haired dog on a lead. It was trying to piddle; she hadn’t noticed.

Would Victor still love me when I was old and stooped? If my brain wasn’t a sharp as it is now?

“Speaking as a regular tourist, we’ve seen the main sights.” Victor paused. “I’m counting the ball as an added extra for a very specific type of traveller.”

“Special traveller?” I said, slipping my free hand into my pocket to keep the chill from my fingers.

“Yes, special like us. Would you want us to go to something similar again? You know, a ball, a club where we can play amongst others
?”

“You forget, I have my own club. Why would I need to do that?”

“Yes, but yours is more of a show club.”

“
As you know I have plans for expansion and…” A tumble of ideas that had been building in my mind rushed forth. “I’ve already mentioned I’d like a glory hole wall added, and I love the idea of exhibitionist cages set within it, not just for my staff to work in, but for customers who would like to show their skills, perhaps glass and steel, you know, something classy. And the showroom, while that’s all very good and certainly gets business, maybe I could double its use, have a couple of nights a week where it’s a pain room for visitors, like at the ball”

“You could…”

“But mine would be different to the others in South London. I’d have specialist Doms and Dommes for hire if you didn’t have your own—”

“Would you hire yourself out?”

“Would that bother you?” As I’d spoken the words a sudden realisation hit me. At one time my hackles would have risen if a man had even suggested what I could and couldn’t do. But with Victor, it was more than that; it wasn’t about him allowing me to do something, it was how it would make
him
feel that was important to me. Anything that made him feel bad, or upset, or betrayed would have to be taken off the agenda.

“Would you be a
Domme or a sub?” he asked as he turned a corner and led us down another alley.

This walkway was minus a canal, though I could make out the hump of a small bridge at the end of the cobbled walkway.
No doubt that led over yet another canal.

“You should know the answer to that,” I said.

“I think I do, but I’d like you to tell me.”

“Victor.” I took my hand from my pocket, pressed it against his chest as we walked, looked up at him. “I’ll only ever submit to you, no one else, not ever.”

He kissed my temple. “Good. That was the right answer.”

A shiver of pleasure wound through me that I’d pleased him with my words.

“And domination—will you hire yourself out for that?” he asked.

“Possibly, I’m not averse to administering pain in the name of pleasure, but as I’ve told you before, like my relationship with Carlos, there has never been any fucking, just scenes, just him pleasing me in his role as a slave, not physically; nothing we do has ever led to him giving me an orgasm.”

“I get that, and actually, Carlos—”

“Will I still have him as my slave?” I had wondered the same thing myself. “I think so, for a while, but only until I can find him a new owner.”

“He might have found one while you’ve been away.”

“He may well have.” The thought was actually a relief. Much as I adored Carlos, found him entertaining and his unrestrained devotion to me sweet, it would be hard to fit him into my life now that Victor was at my side.
I wondered if anything more had developed between him and Fifi. It certainly had seemed like a spark had been lit before I came away to Italy.

We paused on the bridge and I touched its stonewall—damp and gritty. The view was part
ly obscured by the mist, but I could make out the wend of the canal and another two bridges in the distance. To my right a bird cheeped. It was caged, the cage having been set on a window to give the creature a view of a skyline it would never fly. It was a prettily shaped cage, unlike the one in the shed, all those years ago. That had been square and ugly, much more of a prison than a home.

I waited for a roll of revulsion at the memory of that old, shit-stained cage. But it didn’t come; instead,
I felt sad for that little bird singing in the Venetian mist. To be so trapped, wings that could soar yet never being able to even spread wide, let alone take to the air. How sad was that?

But wa
s that how I’d been? Before Victor? A bird confined to my nocturnal life of sex and domination? Yes, it was, and he’d opened the door, convinced me to take that scary first step into the real world, the openness of life without the emotional restrictions my past had bound me by. And now I was here, in Venice, with the man I loved, and not only that, the majority of my demons had drowned. I’d put cement blocks on their feet and thrown them to the depths of the darkest canals. Of course, what had happened in that shed couldn’t be undone in a weekend, but still, an awful lot of progress had been made.

God, I loved him for that, helping me find closure, find freedom, spread my wings.

“This way,” he said.

“Do you know where you’re going?” It appeared to be just a maze of brick-built corridors. There was little sign of life.

“Yes. Of course.”

“Perhaps I’ll buy some gloves when we get there.” Again I put my hand in my pocket. Curled my fingers into a fist and hoped for some warmth.

“Mmm.”

He seemed distracted and his strides had purpose.

“Victor?”

“I think it’s just up this next street, but I’m not sure.”

He pointed to an alley. It was thin and had an old moped propped against the wall, next to a wheeled bin stuffed full of black bags.

“What’s up there? What are you looking for?” It appeared to be a dead end, and not such a nice one. Nothing like the immediate streets around
The Baglioni. We’d wandered into a completely different district.

“Just wait here.” He unwound his arm from me. “And I’ll nip ahead, go and check to save you walking all that way if I’m wrong.”

I missed his body heat instantly, and my first reaction was to demand he not leave me. It was unsettling, in this alley, with the mist swirling and no one else around. But that was silly. I might be in love but I was still capable of standing on my own two feet for a couple of minutes. I was still tough, independent Zara Watson.

“Okay,” I said. “But don’t be long, will you.”

“Nope, just a few minutes.” He turned and set off at a jog, the sound of his slapping soles echoing and then fading as he was swallowed by the slim back streets.

I spun around and spotted a lone boat trailing silently along the water. A few ripples were left in its wake and their slosh against the brickwork at my side merely a whisper. The driver didn’t look my way, he stared straight ahead, a
black cap low on his head, round glasses perched on the end of his nose.

Shit!

Something had touched my leg. I leapt backwards, my shoulders hitting the wall of the building that cornered the alley.

“Fucking hell.”

A cat stepped up to me and wound itself around my shin, tail tickling my knee.

“Piss off,” I said, kicking, but not kicking it. Bloody cats, they gave me the creeps.

I looked for Victor, hoping he was returning.

Nothing.

The cat was undeterred by my irritation. It meowed and banged its cheek against my leg again, marking me with its invisible feline scent.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I stepped away, narrowly missing tripping over the moped and then headed into the shadows of the alley. I’d have to go and find Victor. I couldn’t just wait around for him.

The air was thick with mist, a thin layer of it already lacing my cheeks and dotting my coat with dew-like drops. Further in the alley was so lean it would have been a task to walk side by side with someone. I glanced upwards. The buildings must be eight or nine stories high, the slice of sky at their apex unable to penetrate its heat, and barely any light.

I shivered. Wished I wasn’t where I was. Alleys with dark corners or hidden doorways had always given me the
heebie jeebies, ever since—

“Scream bitch and I’ll kill you
,” a deep, growling voice blasted into my ear.

A scratchy gloved hand—woollen—slapped over my mouth and I was dragged backwards, into a solid chest.
Fear rolled through me. Nausea swamped my system and I screamed and tried to squirm. Fuck. It was happening again, I was being taken.

Where the hell was Victor?

“Victor…mmph… Help!” I managed, ramming my elbow into my attacker.

He huffed but didn’t release his strong grip.

“Stop wriggling, bitch, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

That made m
e jolt and thrust all the harder. Make it worse for myself? Shit, I’d had that happen before.

But wait.

I recognised that voice. Jesus fucking Christ.

Victor?

Was it Victor who’d grabbed me?

A rapid twist of my shoulders allowed me to turn a little, see a portion of
my attacker’s face. He wore a black hoody pulled up so only his eyes and nose were visible. It was just how Conner had worn his the night they’d grabbed me. The terror, the absolute certainty that I was going to die blasted through me again. My eyes filled with tears, my throat clenched.

“Shut it, bitch.
”

Oh God, I did recognise the voice. It
was
Victor!

“
You’re going to give me what I need whether you want to or not,” he whispered harshly. “You’re mine now. For all of time.”

Victor didn’t let go of his hold over my mouth. Pressing his fingers into my cheek and with his forearm hitching painfully up against my ribs, he began to drag me deeper into the alley.

“Mmmph…?”

He was hurting my chest his hold on me was so tight. I could hardly haul in air around the glove, and what I did get just heaved out of my
nostrils in an instant. I tottered along with him, wishing he’d let my face go. Wishing an image of Conner, dragging my eighteen-year-old self through Denton Council Estate, wasn’t quite so vivid in my mind.

I shut my eyes; tears squeezed out.
Conner was giving orders to Ray and Sam, instructing them to grab my legs, haul me upwards, quickly, and get me out of sight, so they wouldn’t be seen stealing a girl.

“We’re nearly there, bitch,” Victor growled.

Victor.

Yes, i
t was my Victor doing this. Not Conner.

And he was doing it for my own good. Exorcising yet another memory.

Still, even with that knowledge, I couldn’t stop shaking. It was a whole body tremble that started in my core and vibrated outwards.