The Plume: The Second Anthology (26 page)

Rex began to pace the loading dock, impatient
and still furious. He couldn’t remain still, not when he was this
angry.

Not when his adrenalin was still pumping.
What had Athena been thinking? He was well aware of Leya watching
him, well aware of the admiration in her gaze.

Puss. He could smell her puss.

He lifted his gaze to hers, letting her see
his desire for her. He was feeling angry and powerful, as well as
aroused. He could easily have taken her hard, and a part of him
thought she deserved no less for this incident.

He’d expected her to avert her gaze,
frightened by his mood, but Leya smiled.

Slowly.

As if issuing an invitation. He noticed how
her breasts strained the cotton of her T-shirt, how the nipples
grew taut even as he watched. She wasn’t wearing a bra, which made
Rex catch his breath. He suspected that he could tug up her T-shirt
and cup those breasts in his hands, fondle them and suckle
them.

Leya’s smile broadened, as if she guessed his
thoughts.

Rex was immediately hard.

“How will you punish her?” she asked
softly.

“Not the way you’re thinking,” Rex retorted
and turned away.

One of the guys had hurried back into the
gallery and returned in that moment with the bag, offering it to
Rex as if trying to appease a vengeful god. Inside were the clothes
and boots that Rex had packed for leaving the gallery.

He chose not to leave the loading dock or to
hide himself away. He held Leya’s gaze and dressed with unhurried
ease. He saw her nostrils flare and her gaze brighten. He’d have to
shower at the Plume, then change again.

But first, he had to teach everyone a
lesson.

He glared at Leya. “I’m going to show you
what you should have done,” he said tightly. He strode back to the
van, then and paused beside Leya to face the men. “We’re all going
to the Plume. I’ll check your files, then decide how each of you
should be punished.”

Rex already had an idea of what he’d like to
do to Leya. Punishing her sounded a lot more interesting than any
interaction with Athena. But then, his anger had probably
diminished any interest Leya had in him.

To his surprise, Leya sat beside him in the
van, her leg pressed against his own. That perfume assailed him,
making him harder.

Then she put her hand on his thigh, sliding
it from his knee to his hip. Rex caught his breath and saw her
smile.

“I need you to be tranquil for the display,”
she murmured as the others got into the van. She looked up at him,
her lashes black and thick, her eyes as dark as midnight. “We’ll
have to think of a way to expend all this energy.”

“I can only think of one way,” Rex
admitted.

Leya smiled mysteriously. “I can think of at
least a dozen,” she replied then fell silent, leaving Rex wondering
what she meant.

Her hand stayed on his thigh, which had to be
a good sign.

* * *

Athena was furious.

She marched back into the Plume in the early
hours of the morning, liking the decisive click that her heels made
on the tile floor in the service corridor that led to the offices.
She knew the Count was right behind her—he’d leapt into the limo,
and tried to argue with her all the way back to the Plume. Wasn’t
that just like him, to be concerned only with his own desires? She
knew he was following her, even though she couldn’t hear his
footsteps, but she still didn’t want to talk to him.

Not after this.

How
dare
he?

The house he had bought in town was a replica
of her grandmother’s house in London. He’d said it was like her
grandmother’s house and she’d assumed that he was referring to the
set-up—she hadn’t imagined that the house would be identical. It
hadn’t been clear from the street, but as soon as she’d stepped
inside, Athena could have been fifteen years in the past.
Everything was precisely the same, down to the very last
detail.

But then, the Count excelled at managing
detail.

Even the slaves, lined up in their household
livery, had obviously been selected on the basis of their
resemblance to her grandmother’s loyal household staff. The sight
of just the foyer had filled Athena with an unwelcome torrent of
memories, and she hadn’t been able to go any further into the
house.

Her grandmother wouldn’t be there.

Her innocence certainly wouldn’t be
there.

How could he have given her such a shock? Oh,
it hadn’t been inadvertent. There’d been that gleam of assessment
in his eyes when she’d stared at him in astonished dismay. He’d
meant to provoke a reaction, and he’d meant to take her back in
time.

But she’d be damned if she’d be his obedient,
desperate, little student again.

Her grandmother wasn’t alive to command her
to do it.

And the Count himself had abandoned her.

Athena doubted it helped the situation that
she’d chosen to dress as a schoolgirl for the opening night party.
If ever there had been a moment when she’d wanted to be fully
tricked out in her blackest suit of leather dominatrix gear, this
was it.

No luck. She was in a short plaid shirt, and
with the exception of her considerable bust, probably looked much
as she had fifteen years before.

The only mercy was that the Count referred
women with small breasts. She’d grown out of that, just as she’d
grown out of him.

“You could thank me,” the Count drawled from
behind her, his voice so silky and low that Athena knew exactly how
he wanted to be rewarded.

“For what?” She spun to glare at him. “After
that
, I don’t owe you a thing.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the only sign
that he was less than calm. “After what? You wanted to see my new
house. I took you there to show it to you. You could have at least
stayed and enjoyed the preparations made for your pleasure.”

“I could find no pleasure in that place!”
Athena shouted. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He was beside her in a heartbeat then, moving
with that astonishing speed. One minute, he was ten feet away. The
next he was leaning so close to her that she could see the flicks
of gold in his eyes. His fingertips were warm on her chin and her
heart was galloping—as if she were still that teenage girl who
thought he had hung the moon and the stars. “I know exactly who I
am,” he murmured. “It’s you who has forgotten who you are.”

“I’m not your toy any longer,” Athena spat.
“My grandmother might have given you the task of teaching me, but
that’s over. It’s been over for a long time.”

“It’ll never be over,” the Count said
fiercely. “
Never
, Athena. You were mine, and you are mine,
and you always will be mine.”

“Bullshit.” Athena spun out of his touch and
headed for the office, hating that she was shaking. “I’m not a
possession.”

“No. You’re an addiction.”

She didn’t turn around at that. “Don’t even
start that crap about how you love me,” she warned.

“Even if it’s true?” the Count demanded.

“It’s not true. It’s a lie, a manipulative
lie.” Athena pivoted to face him again. She jabbed a finger through
the air in the direction of his house. “Just like that house is a
lie.”

“It’s a tribute...”

“It’s a mind game.” Athena took a shaking
breath. “Everything you do is a fucking mind game and I’m tired of
it. Why didn’t you just stay wherever you’ve been all these
years?”

The Count smiled. “We’ve been over that. I
came back because I love you—and I’m not obligated to stay away any
longer.”

Athena regarded him warily, surprised by his
last words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smiled that crooked little smile, the one
that still drove her wild, and spoke in his sultry voice. “That you
don’t know the whole story, of course.”

God, she might as well have been sixteen and
virginal again. She hadn’t felt this kind of vehement reaction to a
single man since then. The first time she’d been with the Count had
been the most potent session of her life, and they hadn’t even had
sex. She’d always thought it was because it had been first, but now
she had to admit that it might have been because of him.

Although she’d never admit as much to
him.

“Maybe I don’t want to know the whole story,”
Athena snapped and headed into the office. She pressed her
fingertips to her temples, seeing the victory in his choices. She
sounded sixteen again. He was putting her back in that mental
place, as much as she was trying to fight him.

It figured. He was more manipulative than
anyone she’d ever known.

And she had loved it.

Then.

She would not relive those torrid nights of
pleasure, not with him watching her so closely.

Later.

Athena would have slammed the door behind
herself, but the Count was there, as quick as a cat when he wanted
to be.

He smiled that maddening smile. “Maybe you
should.”

“Can’t you just go away?”

He folded his arms across his chest and
leaned in the doorway, watching her. She moved items around her
desk, needing some outlet for her agitation, but she didn’t really
know what she was doing. It was ridiculous that he could still
affect her so much.

“How about this?” he asked quietly. “I’ll go
away if you tell me to...”

“Clearly not. You’re still standing here,
pissing me off.”

The Count continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
“...after you’ve heard the whole story.”

She propped a hand on her hip and turned to
face him. She really didn’t think there was anything he could say
to change her mind about him. “If that’s the only way to be rid of
you, start talking.”

The Count wandered into the office, taking
his time. “Have you ever been back there? To Pauline’s house?”

“I told you I hadn’t.”

“But is that true?”

“It’s sold. She’s dead. Why would I go back
there?”

He considered Rex’s desk, then chose to perch
on the edge of her own instead. “At least you didn’t insist that
you didn’t know where it was.”

“I could find it in my sleep.”

The Count smiled. “Yes. But don’t you ever
wonder what happened to it?”

Athena shrugged. “It’s probably sold a few
times, had a bunch of hideous renovations been done to it, and is
home to some hotshot investment banker, his trophy wife and their
2.5 children.”

“Mmm. The neighborhood did become quite
upmarket.”

Athena slanted a glance at him. “Don’t tell
me you make pilgrimages there, the last of the faithful coming to
pay homage?”

He didn’t answer her, just stood and paced
the width of the office, his hands shoved into his pockets. He kept
his back to her, which made her wonder at his thoughts.

Although she knew that curiosity was
dangerous with this man. It was the first step on a path that would
lead her right back to his bed.

Athena wasn’t going there. She arranged her
pens instead, determined to wait him out.

The Count sighed. “It was a shame that your
guardians felt compelled to sell it. I don’t think they got the
best price, not given their haste.”

“They didn’t have to sell it,” Athena said,
hearing that old resentment in her voice again. Oh, it had been
bitter to watch her guardians dispose of her legacy, with no
ability to change the outcome. She had adored that house.

“You were a minor. They wouldn’t let you keep
it.” He cast her a look. “In fact, they were appalled at the idea.
Your guardians were a very serious group, quite bent on protecting
you.”

“I hated them. Did they even know what
Grandma did?”

“If they did, they didn’t want to. Maybe they
turned a blind eye all those years. Until there was you, seventeen
and luscious, the legal heir to a private club for erotic
pleasures.” He smiled at her, a warm gleam in his eyes. “They
couldn’t send you away to university fast enough.”

“No. They couldn’t.” She considered him. “You
sound like you knew them.”

“Better than I wanted to.”

He turned away then, hiding yet another
secret from her. Athena chose not to pursue it. “They didn’t want
me to go to the funeral.”

The Count nodded, unsurprised by this. “I had
a hell of a time convincing them.”

“You? You were the one who argued in my
favor?” She folded her arms across her chest when he nodded,
bracing herself against any sense of gratitude. “Yet you were so
concerned with me and my life that you disappeared from my life
without a trace for the past fifteen years?” She tried, but failed,
to keep the hurt from her tone.

“I had no choice,” he said mildly. “There was
a restraining order.”

Athena blinked. She hadn’t known that.

The Count sighed. “They feared I would be a
bad influence.”

“And that was enough to make you
disappear?”

“No.” His eyes shone with a passion that
surprised her. “Those fools could never have kept me from you, not
really.” Athena didn’t know what to say. Her heart was leaping
again, that persistent hope making her mouth dry. The Count held
her gaze, his own expression intent, then abruptly turned away. “I
spoke to your grandmother before she died. I was there when she had
her heart attack. I was the one who called the ambulance.”

Athena’s heart clenched, painfully aware that
she had not been home that night.

Had he been making love to her grandmother at
that fateful moment? Athena didn’t want to think about the Count
being with anyone but her.

Which was crazy, inappropriate and stupid,
too. Athena pressed her fingertips to her temples, wanting to blot
out all of those memories.

What she saw instead was her old bedroom and
the Count, his gaze hot and hungry, walking around her. He moved
with the grace of a tiger, one about to pounce, one who knew the
secrets of her body better than she had known them then. She
remembered him peeling off his shirt, so slowly, remembered how
she’d peeked through her lashes at his body. She remembered him
coming to stand right in front of her, waiting for her to look up.
He had such patience, such ability to anticipate her, and she knew
he would have waited all night.