Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 2) Read online

  It was seduction, impure and not at all simple.

  I’d just settled on the sofa to work when I got a text from Julia, the last person I wanted to hear from besides the asshole she’d set me up with.

  Trevor wants to see you before he leaves Paris.

  I rolled my eyes at the high ceiling. Why, so he can break in and go crazy again?

  He didn’t exactly break in.

  Close enough.

  He just wants to talk. He knows he could be handling this better but it kills him to see you with somebody else.

  Then hooking up with an intern was a bad idea, wasn’t it? Not that I care anymore.

  Please, Sophie. You were together 2 years. Give him 5 minutes.

  Ugh. Five minutes with Trevor versus an earful of guilt. Ok, but it won’t change anything. I hope he knows that.

  Reluctantly, I gave her Marc’s address and a time for Trevor to meet me out front. Eleven a.m. on the day he flew home.

  He’s just worried about you. We both are.

  No reason to be. I know what I’m doing.

  As I typed out the words and sent them, I hoped to hell they were true.

  Later, after a slew of discreet deliveries that included a black silk wrap dress, seamed stockings, and a box of tiny, liquor-filled chocolates, the buzzer rang again. Though I waited in the foyer, a knock never came.

  Opening the door cautiously, I discovered in the hallway a small box addressed to me. There was no return address on the packaging.

  I brought the box to the dining room table and, after a moment of hesitation, tore off the plain wrapping.

  It contained a smaller box covered in pale green fabric and wrapped in cream-colored ribbon. I opened the lid with trembling fingers. Inside was a cut crystal perfume bottle filled with an amber liquid. The note was written in Marc’s slashing, business-like hand.

  I had this made for you. Wear it tonight and every day from now on. M.

  I pulled out the heavy glass stopper and dabbed the liquid on my wrist. Taking a long breath, I smelled Marc’s gift. The scent was luscious – musk and gardenia, with a hint of something I’d smelled before but couldn’t name. Rose? Lavender? It was potent in the bottle but subtle on my skin, almost as if it were my natural smell.

  All afternoon as I worked, I kept bringing my wrist to my nose, wondering how a scent could be so new and so familiar. To create this, he had to know me better than I realized.

  He’d thought about the kind of woman I was. He’d wanted to understand and seduce me. It took effort and time. It took care.

  If he were nothing but cruel, it would be easy. But he was courting me with risk and excitement, making me crave the next soaring high.

  Suddenly, I didn’t care how our relationship looked to Julia or anyone else. He’d picked me from across an ocean and brought me to him. This was romance like I’d never experienced, dark, twisted, and deep. Or maybe it was all a beautiful illusion, a cunning way to assure my absolute obedience.

  Either way, I was falling for it, so fast and hard I didn’t have a prayer of stopping myself.

  Just when I thought I wouldn’t hear from Marc all day, he sent me a text.

  Do you like it?

  I had no doubt what he was referring to. I smelled my wrist again and let the heady scent fill my senses.

  I love it.

  I thought you might. I spoke to Katherine and you’re going to Provence with me. You’ll write a short article about buying foreign real estate.

  Will I? I haven’t said yes yet.

  I won’t take no for an answer.

  I’ve noticed.

  A minute later, he texted again. I’m very proud of you.

  Why?

  You know why.

  CHAPTER THREE

  That night, we met outside Marc’s favorite neighborhood restaurant.

  I walked the three blocks from the apartment in the gray suede stilettos that had arrived that afternoon, while Marc came directly from work. My breath caught when I saw him, standing on the sidewalk scrolling through his phone. He had the air of a man who’d been giving orders all day, and had no intention of stopping.

  He wore a charcoal gray suit with a blue shirt open at the collar. I was dressed in the silk dress he’d chosen for me, a leather obi belt tied tightly around my waist. There was a faint chill in the air that made my braless nipples hard.

  When he glanced up, his eyes radiated so much heat I blushed. “Did you follow my instructions today?” he asked, dispensing with greetings.

  “Yes,” I said. “I put the panties on this morning and again after showering.”

  He slid a hand over my backside and between my legs, feeling for the open crotch through my dress. As if he’d flipped a switch in my brain, I was instantly wet, every nerve shimmering on high alert.

  “And you wore the stockings and garters?” he asked.

  I took a step back so he could see my silk-sheathed legs. “Do you like them?”

  He pulled me against him. His cock was a stiff spear against my stomach. “Everything’s beautiful on you. You could wear burlap and turn heads.”

  We kissed, a soft, wet linking of our tongues that made my stomach swoop. Even in public, I wanted him as if I were starving. Never had a man’s touch had such a primal effect on me.

  “No one would know what’s under your dress,” he said, opening the door for me. “That’s what I like most of all. Your elegance.”

  “The clothes help,” I said. “You have exceptional taste.”

  “I have an exceptional muse,” he said, patting my ass lightly.

  The host led us to Marc’s usual spot in the corner and pulled out my chair. Each narrow table was covered with a simple white tablecloth. All over the restaurant, red candles were wedged into bottles and candelabras that overflowed with wax.

  As soon as we’d ordered, I held out my wrist to Marc. “Smell.”

  He held my forearm and lowered his nose to my bare skin. “Is it you or the perfume? I can’t tell.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “That’s why I love it so much. Who made it?”

  “A parfumier my mother knew. He’s at least eighty now, and a master at what he does.”

  “He must be to have created that. Thank you. It’s an amazing gift.”

  I could feel the toe of his monk strap shoe resting against my ankle. Just that was enough to send tendrils of warmth trailing up my leg.

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “If you didn’t, I’d have to re-evaluate everything I thought I knew about you.”

  “But you captured who I am on the first try.”

  He raised an eyebrow at the double meaning of my words. “You haven’t always made it easy for me.”

  “But hard is so much more fun,” I said with a teasing smile.

  He gave me a contagious grin. “For both of us.”

  Just then, one of the waiters passed behind my chair, accidentally catching the handle of my bag. The bag dropped with a hollow thud, spilling makeup, credit cards, and loose change across the ancient stone floor.

  Marc frowned and said something to him in curt French.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “I apologize,” Marc said. “The service here is usually very good.”

  The waiter dropped to his knees and began to scoop up keys that had come loose from a key ring. “Sorry, Madame,” he said, flushing crimson. “Very sorry.”

  “That’s all right. It was an accident.”

  “Merci.” He held out my bag, its jumbled contents jingling.

  “Give it to me,” Marc said. “I’ll put it here so it doesn’t happen again.”

  Glossy black head an inch from my leg, the waiter peered once more under the table. “One moment…” he said, reaching toward Marc’s chair. He stood up and set a small slip of cream-colored paper on the table beside the pepper grinder.

  “Voilà. Sorry again!” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Marc glanced at the piece of paper, look
ed away, and looked back. My heart froze.

  I’d forgotten all about it.

  I’d wanted to forget. I hadn’t wanted to heed the warning.

  My mind raced back to the morning at the chateau when I’d found the boxes of books in Marc’s closet. The yellowed pages, the erotic drawings, and the cryptic anonymous note that had fallen from the pages.

  If you find this then it’s probably too late for you...If you can still think for yourself get away from him. You won’t have anything left if you don’t.

  It was too late for me right now. That I knew for sure.

  “What is it?” he asked, his expression hardening.

  I swallowed. “Nothing.”

  I reached for it but he held up a hand. Taking the piece of paper, he opened it slowly and read the words inside.

  “Nothing, indeed,” he muttered, and set the note by his gleaming knife.

  Though I tried to speak, every lie and excuse caught in my throat. There was no way out. I’d read something that didn’t belong to me, and when threatened with being found out, I’d taken it. I couldn’t undo what I’d done, or make it better.

  “Don’t tell me,” Marc said coldly. “You can explain.”

  Feigning confidence, I raised my chin. “Yes, I can.”

  Arms crossed, he sat back and gave me a dark, piercing stare. “Then, by all means, Sophie. I’m very interested to know what you’re going to say.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I remembered how I’d felt when Marc knocked on the door. Confused, startled, scared. Anything had seemed better than discovery.

  But discovery like this was far worse. Now all I had was the shameful truth.

  “I saw a box of old erotica books in the closet at the chateau,” I said. “I was curious, that’s all.”

  Marc pursed his lips. “You were curious.”

  “I’d never seen books like that before. I wanted to know what was inside.”

  “Ah,” he said, with a nod. “You couldn’t help yourself. They were so forbidden and exciting.”

  Blood rose to my cheeks and my heart fell. “Yes, they were.”

  “No harm in looking at some old books,” he said, but his tone was sinister. “Go on.”

  I forced myself to hold his gaze. “The note was inside one of them, stuck between the pages.”

  “And you saw it by chance?”

  “Yes. Just by chance.”

  “But you didn’t put it back where you found it, did you? You took it out and read it.”

  “I’m not sure why,” I said. “I didn’t know it was this – secret thing. It was just there.”

  I sat in excruciating silence while our waiter brought the wine, poured a taste for Marc, and filled our glasses. As soon as he turned to go, Marc’s false smile faded.

  “So, you took the note from one of my books and read it, and now ‘this secret thing’ is sitting on a table in Paris. How exactly did that happen?”

  I took a sip of wine, then chased it with two more. “You knocked on the door and said it was time to leave. I didn’t know what to do with it. I panicked.”

  He watched me, not blinking, his expression ominous and his brows low.

  “Did you know about it, or –” I stopped to take a breath. “– did somebody put it inside the book?”

  “Yes, I knew about it,” he said flatly. “An ex-girlfriend wrote it and left it in my bedroom drawer, where I assume she thought another woman might come across it. I found it and put it in the book myself. A few years ago I took some things to store at my father’s house. I’d forgotten the note was there until tonight.”

  “You kept it?” I half-whispered. “Why?”

  “As a reminder,” he said.

  “Of what?”

  His eyes were like smoldering embers. “The reason I’d never dominate another woman. But then I saw your picture and here you are, with the note that was meant to stop me from what I’ve been doing for the last week.”

  There it was again, that bitter flood of shame. Yes, he’d chosen me, but he’d tried to resist me. I’d gone into his room at the chateau and changed everything, for both of us.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “No, Sophie. I am.”

  He sipped his wine and looked out the window, watching an older couple cross the street arm in arm. When he turned his gaze back to me, his face shadowed again.

  “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said, “but I want to make something clear. If we’re going to continue, this kind of deception can’t happen.”

  “It wasn’t deception,” I said, matching his cool tone. “I hardly knew you when I found it, and then I forgot about it.”

  His mouth was a flat line. “You’ve had the note for two weeks. You had it with you on holiday. Since then, we’ve made love, argued, and agreed to be together for the next ten days at least. You could have told the truth at any time.”

  Tired of being scolded for a simple mistake, I crossed my arms. “I didn’t know how.”

  “Of course you did. You chose not to. We had an agreement, remember? No secrets.”

  No secrets. Suddenly it all seemed so outrageously one-sided. “You weren’t honest with me, either,” I said, but tone low but clipped. “You didn’t tell me about your role in bringing me here.”

  “I did, last night.”

  “Ten days late. And you danced around the truth when you could have told me about this woman, whoever she is. If we agree to no secrets, it can’t be required for me and optional for you.”

  I saw a hint of a smile. He read the note again and tucked it inside the pocket of his jacket. “Maybe you’re right,” he said.

  “Maybe?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you off by mentioning her or my contact with your editor. I’m sorry. I should have told you anyway.”

  He’d agreed so quickly, I felt almost deflated. “Thank you.”

  Head tilted, he considered me for a minute. “You’re not like any other woman I’ve known. You have a mind that demands constant vigilance.”

  “I demand fairness, Marc. That’s all.”

  “Being submissive means things won’t be fair.”

  “Physically, maybe that’s true,” I said. “But you said it yourself last night – we’re equals in every other way. Shouldn’t that mean we’re honest with each other?”

  The fire in his eyes had died out, leaving a cool gray hue. “Yes, it should. Your point is well taken.”

  The waiter brought our appetizers. I looked down at my plate, a beautifully arranged half-circle of seared scallops with pea puree. Gathering what little nerve I had left, I took a bite and swallowed. “What was her name?”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right,” he said, leaving his plate untouched. “Her name was Lydia Forster. We were together about eight years ago. I didn’t love her, I wasn’t even that drawn to her, but she let me act out my desires with her. It was selfish and immoral, and I’d give anything to take it back.”

  “Why did she write the note?”

  His jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t change. “Because our relationship destroyed her.”

  “Destroyed her? What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t know how fragile she was and I didn’t care. I was too young and self-centered. She became so dependent on my dominance, she couldn’t function without it. I realized she had deeper problems that had nothing to do with me. When I ended it, she broke things in my apartment and called Eleanor at three in the morning. She wanted me to beat her. She offered to find other lovers for me. It was demeaning for us both. After she went back to England, she sent a lot of angry letters that I absolutely deserved. I read every one but I didn’t respond. I didn’t think it was good for her to keep in contact with me.”

  I put my fork down. It was almost too much to take in at once. Just the thought of him touching another woman made me feel sick. “Where is she now?”

  “Sti
ll here, as far as I know,” he said.

  “She’s here?”

  Yes,” he said, slicing into his beef carpaccio. “Married with a daughter. I saw her once at a party, but that was a few years ago.”

  “Why do you think what happened was your fault?”

  He let out a short, heavy sigh. “Our relationship had to be a factor. After that happened I really saw my similarity to Sade. I didn’t stop being dominant because I was afraid I might become like him – I already was like him. I still am.”

  I took his hand across the table. “You’re nothing like him, Marc. You know, you’re not the only man in the world who likes ropes and whips.”

  Turning up his palm, he threaded his fingers through mine. “My family history changes everything. I have a responsibility to understand my motivations. I can’t act with no thought for other people, no matter how tempting it is.”

  The waiter came to clear our plates and refill our wine. Once he was gone Marc retreated to safer topics, asking me questions about articles I’d written and the college I’d gone to in Boston.

  When I tried to steer the conversation back to him he said, “We’ve dwelled on me enough.”

  And just like that, the wall was back up, higher and harder than ever before.

  After dessert and coffee we returned to the apartment. Marc showed me photographs of his trips to Brazil and South Africa, and I showed him pictures of my assignment in Alaska. I could almost see the heat wavering between my thigh and his as we sat together on the sofa. Any minute now he would kiss me, unhook my garters, and take me to bed to ruin me.

  Except that he didn’t.

  “Well, I’ve got wall-to-wall meetings tomorrow,” he said, squeezing my knee and getting up. “I should get a few hours of sleep.”

  I brushed my teeth, then he brushed his. He got into bed wearing boxers and an old Oasis t-shirt that showed the muscled slope of his chest. I took off everything but the panties I’d worn all day just for him. He watched, eyelids low, as I slipped under the sheets.

  “You have amazing skin,” he said. “Like alabaster. It emphasizes the rose color of your nipples.”

  At his words, blood rushed to my abdomen. Already I was slick and open for him. If the sound of his voice excited me this much, I might explode when he touched me.