Page 60 of Cruel Games

Francesco gave me a hearty clap on the back and whispered, “Go for it.”

I downed my glass of champagne in one drag and pulled myself to my feet. “Don’t mind if I do.”

The man’s gaze roved the front of my catsuit. Miss Martin and I had created two keyholes, one around the stomach and the other beneath the collarbone to give a hint of cleavage.

“I noticed you last month,” he said.

“Really?” I grinned, not wanting to sound too eager by telling him he’d totally been on my radar.

We walked to the garage room where he bought me a Smirnoff Ice cocktail, introduced himself as Jim, and told me he was a fetish photographer. Before I could ask him what he meant, he whipped out his smartphone and showed me photos he had taken of models dressed in leather, rubber, and PVC.

I gaped at his collection. All the girls were leggy catwalk types, all gorgeous, and all beautifully posed. “Are these for a fashion label?”

“How did you know?” He leaned to the side and took in the back of my catsuit. “Are you wearing Helmut Fang? I don’t remember taking photos of anything like this.”

I smirked. “It’s something I knocked up with the help of a woman who worked for Dior.”

Jim gave me a low whistle. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

The way he said it could have referred to me or the outfit. I took a swig from my cocktail and gave him a muttered thanks.

Jim’s eyes lingered on my cleavage as he downed his lager. “Have you ever modeled, then?”

I shook my head. “Are you thinking of luring me into your studio for a photoshoot?”

“Actually, I wanted to lure you onto the dance floor.” He raised a shoulder. “Then back to my place for a bit of bondage.”

I threw my head back and laughed. If he thought I would let a complete stranger tie me up, he was dreaming.

“What do you say?” he asked.

“I don’t do one-night stands. Ever.”

He wrapped both arms around my waist and pulled me into his hard body. “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

I placed a hand on his chest and gave him a shove. He was good looking with a nice face and body, but he came on too strong for a guy who claimed to spend time with gorgeous models.

“I’m going to have a wander around and see if I can find my friends,” I said.

His brows drew together. “What?”

“Catch you later.” I gave him a little wave.

He grabbed my wrist. “But I bought you a drink.”

I glanced down at his empty bottle. “Let’s go to the bar. I’ll get you another lager, and we’ll be even.”

“That’s not what I—”

“You can have two lagers if that makes you feel better,” I shouted over the music. “But I’m not going anywhere with you. Not even a dance floor.”

Jim’s face hardened, and I gripped my bottle around its neck in case he decided to turn nasty. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a large, muscular body pressed into my back, accompanied by a smoky, masculine scent.

“What are you doing with my girlfriend?” asked a hard voice.

Jim’s gaze flicked up to the owner of the body that had wrapped itself around mine. “She didn’t say she was with anyone.”

“She’s seeing me, too,” added Orlando’s voice.