Page 20 of Tease Me


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The insane grin is back on his face. “Hey man. Chill the fuck out. I did you a favor.”

“Me?” I have no idea how turning Lucinda into a creature of the night favors me, but unless I want another problem on my hands and another mess to clean up, I refrain from punching him.

“Yeah you. You’ve been having a hissy fit since the second we rocked up here, worried that your parents would find out that we are using their apartment. This way, she can come and go and no one will know who she is. Here, have a drink.” He holds out a glass to me. Inside is an amber liquid that looks like it’s just been poured. Unless I’m mistaken, it’s my father’s Glenfiddich.

I pin him with a dark stare and snatch the glass from his hand, sending whiskey all over the countertop. “You want to take Lucinda Waldgrave out and about Manhattan? Are you out of your motherfucking mind? I was very clear. Rule number one. She doesn’t leave this apartment.”

He shrugs. “Why not? You didn’t recognize her. She could be anyone.”

I lower my head into my hands and swear softly. “This isn’t a game, Mercier. That bitch is worth thirty million dollars to us, or did you forget that?”

“No, Dacre, this is thirty million dollars to you, but to me it is a game, and I’m planning to have some fun along the way. Now hand over the keys. You do whatever you want with her. Keep her locked up if you like, but you’ll be missing out. She’s a fucking spitfire.”

I don’t even want to know what he means by that. She’s fucked billionaires and movie stars. Mercier has had his fair share of women, but getting Lucinda Waldgrave to put out is a stretch, even for him. Especially in the situation she’s in. We might be pretending to be kidnappers, but for all intents and purposes, that’s exactly what we are. Plus, she’s blind, so Mercier can’t rely on his bad boy good looks that women usually drool over. No, he’s bluffing. He really fucking better be bluffing. “We are not letting her set foot out of that door until the money is in our hands. You got that?”

He shrugs again. “Whatever.”

I throw the car keys over to him, glad that he’s about to leave. I need to breathe. To think. I was planning on making today count for my future, not scraping make-up off a blind woman.

“Toodles,” he says to me, then whispers something in Lucinda’s ear. I’m almost relieved when she cringes against him. So maybe nothing did happen between them. The monster in me is momentarily sated. Nix said no fucking her. I expected Mercier to respect that, despite what I said to him. I banked on it.

I head out onto the balcony and wait for my car to leave the underground parking spot. Mercier revs it up all the way down Fifth.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I head right back to Lucinda. She’s sitting stock still on the couch. I perch on the small table opposite her. Even up close, I can barely tell she’s the woman that graces all my mother’s favorite magazine covers. She’s fucking breathtaking, like a china doll in black. Just my type. Fuck Mercier. If I don’t have enough to deal with already.

Her brown eyes make her look more normal. The colored contacts covering those piercing blue eyes of hers make it seem as though she’s not blind at all. I can almost feel the weight of her stare.

I reach out and tilt her chin up so I can get a better view. “I’m going to wipe this shit from your face.”

She raises her hand and clamps it on my wrist. “Don’t!”

Her stare is so intense that I wonder for a second if she can see me after all.

“You want to look like this?” I ask incredulously. I won’t be able to concentrate with her parading round the apartment like she is. She’s a fucking vision without all that long blonde hair. I’ve never been into blondes, but I can’t imagine someone who's made their fame from their trademark look would be so eager to hide it in such an extreme way. Sure, she might want to wear a wig, but it’s clear from the side shave that this is no wig. Nix will blow a gasket at the sight of her, or maybe hiding her angelic features will make him get over himself. Maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“I don’t want to look like...” she pauses for a second, “Me.”

Surely this isn’t vanity? She can’t even see herself. I see her though, and I wish I couldn’t. Everywhere I look, she has skin on show, even more starkly pale against the darkness of her hair and clothes. I lower my eyes from her face and wish I hadn’t. Her tits are pushed up by the corset dress. Beautiful. I’m almost salivating at their perfection. I lower my eyes again to her thighs. The skirt is so short that she only has to change position and I’ll be looking right at her pussy. I shake the thought from my head. I don’t want her. She’s here because I want the money. I’m not going to let dick, mine or anyone else’s get in the way. She’s fucking blind. I don’t need to be polite and look at her at all, so I switch my attention to the table next to her. It’s like being a horny teenager all over again.

“Okay, fine. Look like a whore. See if I care.” I leave her on the sofa and find a spot on the bed in the main bedroom. The room reeks of Mercier, which makes me wish I could order someone to come and clean my sheets. At least I can’t smell her in here. I need to have a word with Mercier and remind him of the reason she’s here before he takes it too far and fucks her. Any one of us fucking her will be bad news. I’m glad that Nix has backed out. With his obsession with her, having him here would be a real fucking nightmare. There’s going to be a new rule. There has to be if we want to get out of this. No fucking Lucinda. If Mercier has fucked her, I hope he enjoyed it because there’s no way it’s going to happen again. If I can keep him out of her pants for the next thirteen days, we’ll be laughing and Lucinda Waldgrave will be consigned to our memories and the front cover of Vogue where she belongs.

* * *

After stripping the sheets off myself and replacing them with clean ones, I grab one of my mother’s dresses — the most demure one I can find and head out into the kitchen.

“Put this on,” I demand, throwing it at Lucinda.

“I don’t want to. I like what I’m wearing.”

I don’t need distractions. “You look like a two-bit hooker that Mercier dragged in from the street,” I half lie. “Get changed.”

I expect more tears, but she gives me the middle finger and stands up.

Despite myself, my mouth quirks up at her anger. She stomps to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I finally let myself relax when I hear the water turn on.

I pour myself a coffee and open my laptop. I need to figure out how we are going to pull this madness off, but before doing anything, I need to sort out my internship. Kidnapping Lucinda has messed up my plans, making me late replying to emails.

There are a few in my inbox I should have replied to days earlier. One is from an internship I applied for weeks ago. The one I want. I click on the email from Letterman International and read it.

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