Chapter 67

Emily King was feeling as loose and relaxed as she could ever remember feeling. The massage from Monica had left her in a warm languor, and Nick’s revelation that he’d deliberately left all his other lovers in New York in order to spend time with her had her extremities tingling like she’d touched a live wire and now had a low hum of electricity running through her whole body.

She must have dozed on the massage table because there had been hours to go in their flight, but it seemed to her like there had only been a brief lull in her conversation with Nick and then he was stroking her shoulder. “Em, we should get back to our seats. We’re going to be landing soon.”

Emily sat up and stretched. When she saw that Nick’s eyes had gone straight to her bare breasts, she held the stretch to let him get a good look. Nick’s other lovers might have advantages she could never hope to match, but Emily was pretty sure she had the best tits of any of them.

Thinking about Pilar, Kiki, and the others, Emily knew she had some big shoes to fill during this trip. She would probably never be as sexy as Pilar or as free-spirited as Kiki, but she’d never really stretched those muscles anywhere close to their limits. Her prime asset was that she was beautiful in a very traditional blonde hair, blue eyes, big tits, and tan skin kind of way. She didn’t want to waste this opportunity to show Nick that she could be sexy and free too.

And there was no time like the present to start. As she collected her clothes, she held up the sports bra she’d stripped off a few hours ago for Nick’s consideration. “I feel so good right now, I really hate to put this back on.”

Nick smirked. “So, don’t.”

Emily put the bra down and held up the thin white cotton shirt. “Just wear this?”

Nick took the fabric of the shirt between thumb and forefinger, rubbing it thoughtfully. “As long as you don’t mind having to step over Joe’s tongue to avoid tripping over it when it hits the floor, why not?”

Emily slid her arms into the shirt and held the fabric up to her breast. Her nipple showed up clearly through the thin cloth. She looked at Nick and made a questioning sound.

Nick seemed to understand her concern. “I’m not Clive, Em. You are an incredibly beautiful woman and you should show it off as much as you want to. I’m not comfortable with putting the flight crew in a position where they have to work around people having sex on the plane, but if they’re unhappy about being around as much skin as you’d see on the beaches of Europe, that’s on them.”

Emily smiled, buttoned up her shirt, and pulled on her yoga pants. “Joe will be okay?”

“If he’s not okay around visible nipples, I’d like to know that before we take him to a strip club.” Nick put an arm around Emily’s waist and guided her towards the front of the plane.

Emily looked at the aisle running the length of the plane, imagined it was a fashion runway, and strutted along it. Heads turned as she passed and more than a few eyes widened in appreciation. Of all people, Joe was so occupied with something on his phone that he didn’t see her pass, but Guy and Sarah and Handsome Charlie from Gibraltar watched her pass with varying degrees of frank interest. As luck would have it, the person she wanted to talk to was sitting up near the cockpit door and she got to get her strut on the whole way.

She slid into the seat next to Zola. “Hey, are you handling the rides from the airport to ... wherever we’re staying?”

“The Service is. Do you have a request?” Zola asked.

Emily bit her lower lip. “If you don’t have anything that requires Nick’s immediate attention, could we maybe have a car for just the two of us?”

Zola smiled. “Of course. There’s nothing that can’t wait until later today certainly. The ride from the airport to the mansion is expected to take about thirty-five minutes under typical traffic conditions for a Monday afternoon.”

“Thanks.” Emily secured her seatbelt, sat back, closed her eyes, and waited for landing. Only after a few minutes did she think about that last bit of information Zola had given her. She would have about a half hour in the car alone with Nick. That raised all sorts of possibilities, but they were possibilities she’d already been considering. What struck her was that Zola had volunteered the information and she strongly suspected Nick’s assistant had done so because she knew what Emily had in mind and wanted to facilitate.

As if to confirm that, once they were on the ground, Zola told Nick. “I need to talk to Charlie about some security issues. Are you all right with just you and Emily in the car?”

Nick smirked. “I think we’ll manage.”

“Well, have fun.” As she turned, Zola let a quick secret smile break through her professional mask for just a moment when only Emily would see it then walked off with a little extra spring in her step.

The driver turned out to be chatty, asking if it was Nick and Emily’s first time in New Orleans and extolling various attractions the city had to offer. Emily felt the minutes tick away and waited for a point when it wouldn’t be rude to close the privacy barrier, but Nick took the first such opportunity to ask, “Damaso, have you ever been to the Blue Rose?”

The driver glanced in the rearview mirror. “The strip club? I’ve never been inside. It’s ... really exclusive. I’ve brought clients there, though.”

“Exclusive how? Who gets in?” Nick asked.

“You would, I’m sure ... particularly if you both went.” Damaso’s eye flickered to Emily in the mirror. “I hear they mostly cater to the rich and famous, but that they really like it when a couple comes in together.”

“And you haven’t got someone to go with?” Nick asked. There was a hint of teasing disbelief in his voice that made Emily give their driver another look. If she had to guess, she would say by the cafe-au-lait color of his skin and the spray of freckles across his cheeks that he was a mixed-blood Creole. His hair was in tight corkscrew curls and ran down to his shoulders. She wasn’t sure if he was more attractive than average or just more striking.

Damaso laughed. “I have a girlfriend, but I don’t think it would be her thing. She’d probably cut my nuts off if I suggested it.”

Emily pouted at him in the mirror. “Do you think it would be my thing, Damaso?”

Damaso’s eyes flickered between her and Nick. He must not have been too intimidated by whatever face Nick was making because he said, “My Calista is very beautiful, but she doesn’t know it. If we went there, she would be looking at the other girls and worrying they were prettier than her. I don’t think you would do that.”

Emily gave him a warm smile. “Thank you, Damaso. If you don’t mind, I need to speak to Nick privately for a while, please.”

“Of course, miss.” Damaso pressed a button on the dash and the privacy barrier game up between them.

When Nick turned like he meant to ask her what she wanted to talk about, she took his face in both hands and kissed him deeply. He returned the kiss enthusiastically, but looked puzzled when the kiss broke. “What was that for?”

“That was for not being Clive - and for bringing me to New Orleans and wanting to spend time with me and just being an all-around pretty awesome guy,” said Emily.

Nick smirked. “I think I might need a kiss for each of those things.”

Emily was happy to comply, moulding herself against Nick’s chest and kissing him with slow purpose, letting the heat between them build naturally. When Nick cupped her breast and teased her nipple with his thumb, she gasped into his mouth and her body tingled with anticipation for what came next. But Nick was unhurried in kissing her and before things could progress much further, they were pulling into a long driveway with a circular terminus in front of a gleaming white mansion that seemed to be all tall columns and balustrades and stairs.

Emily looked at it. “Wow, that definitely looks like a place where rich people live.”

Nick laughed. “Not like the college dorm fantasy camp where we live, is it?”

Emily gave him a worried look. “I didn’t mean...”

Nick shook his head. “I like the Loft, but it is what it is. More than one of my guests this weekend commented that it wasn’t what they expected.”

“I suspect the Loft was just the tip of the unexpected iceberg to your guests,” said Emily.

“That’s undoubtedly true.” Nick looked out at the mansion as they pulled up in front of it. “It looks roomy, though. I could use a bit more room.”

Emily shot him a surprised look. “You didn’t buy this place, did you?”

Nick laughed. “No, I’m renting it ... or borrowing it in return for a future favor maybe from my cousin, Gianna. I don’t think mansions will ever be my style, but maybe a nice, sprawling ranch house with a lot of outbuildings and guest cottages and stuff where we can all live together without being on top of each other all the time.”

“You wouldn’t get rid of the Loft, would you? I’ve gotten kind of accustomed to falling asleep to the sounds of other people having sex in their apartments,” Emily teased.

Nick didn’t answer until they were out of the car. Damaso opened Emily’s door for her and managed to look her over in a way that was appreciative without leering. With her hair a little messy, her lips feeling swollen, and her dark nipples hard against her shirt, she must look like sex incarnate. She smiled and thanked him.

On their way into the mansion, Nick said, “The ranch house is still in its very early planning phases, but I don’t plan to get rid of the Loft, no. I might just spend less time there going forward. But, I like my college dorm fantasy camp. I also really like New York City, but I’m a bit of a country boy at heart. I like being close to nature.”

Emily wrapped her arms around his bicep. “You’re actually planning this? Do you have a place in mind?”

“I’m thinking I should build from the ground up instead of buying a place. That way I can get something close to what’s in my head, plus I like the idea of asking Pilar to build it for me.” Nick glanced at her. “I was going to avoid talking about the others while we’re here and I think I made it about a half hour.”

“I don’t mind you talking about the others. I like the others. They’re my lovers too, you know ... most of them anyway. If I were here with Pilar, we’d undoubtedly talk about you.” Emily hugged his arm. “Do you mind that I flirted with our driver?”

“I don’t mind flirting. I like flirting. I like seeing that other men want you and knowing that I have you.” Nick’s voice took on a note that resonated in her spine.

Emily didn’t answer because a footman approached them. She assumed he was a footman because he wore a gray jacket with long tails, gold buttons, and gold rope epaulets over a white tuxedo shirt and black pants. She’d never seen a liveried servant in person before, but she definitely believed she was seeing one now.

“Mr. Coyle, I’ll be happy to show you to your rooms. The porters have already brought your luggage in,” the man said, stiffening his spine like he wanted to salute, but thought it improper.

“Thank you, uh...” Nick paused.

“Jonas, sir,” said the footman.

“Is that your first name or your last name, Jonas?” Nick asked.

“My first name, sir. I’m Jonas Hardcastle if you prefer surnames,” Jonas informed him.

“I prefer first names under most circumstances, Jonas. Is there more staff inside the house?” Nick asked.

“Yes, sir. There’s the butler, the cook, three house maids, two scullery maids...” Jonas frowned. “There’s also a groom, but he usually isn’t in the house.”

“Just please let everyone know that I’m most comfortable being called Nick, not Mr. Coyle or sir and that most of my guests probably feel the same. I won’t offend the staff if I address them the same way, will I?” Nick asked.

“No Nick, you won’t.” Jonas smiled. “We start with the most formal form of address, but we’re happy to call you what you’re most comfortable being called. I’ll let the other servants know.”

“Okay, great.” Nick clapped his hands together. “Show us to my rooms, please.” Emily didn’t miss that he’d instructed Jonas to bring them both to Nick’s rooms. She thought she would probably consider this trip a success if she never saw the inside of her own rooms at all.

As they ascended the front stairs to the porch, Nick asked, “What is a scullery maid, by the way?”

“They’re young women who handle the dishes and the laundry mostly,” Jonas answered.

“Ah, I have some of those working for me in New York. We just call them maids,” said Nick.

“The title is to differentiate them from the women who make up the rooms and do much of the indoor cleaning. Scullery maid was traditionally the entry-level role for female servants who then went on to become lady’s maids, house maids, or cooks.” said Jonas.

“In the past?” Nick asked.

Jonas gave a professional smile. “We are aware that this household is a bit anachronistic for the twenty-first century, even in New Orleans. Miss Ferrari-Stone likes it that way, but we can certainly ratchet it down a notch or two while you’re here if it makes you uncomfortable. We’re here for your convenience.”

Nick considered that as they crossed the wide foyer. “Your opinion, Jonas? If you’re having fun with it, it’s fun for me. If it’s an imposition for you, I’m not going to enjoy it.”

“It’s the best part of the job.” Jonas led them to a stairway going up. “I think I can speak for all of the staff when I say that - except maybe the temp we hired to replace one of the house maids who’s on vacation in Spain this week. Our scullery maids are Dallas and Peony. In addition to their jobs here, Dallas teaches yoga and Pilates at a studio downtown and Peony is pre-med at Tulane.”

Nick laughed as they were led further into the house. “Very good then, Jeeves. Don’t let me interrupt your cosplay.”

“It’s Jonas, sir,” said the footman primly.

“I know. I was going for the “clueless aristocrat who doesn’t know his own servants’ names. Did I overdo it?” Nick asked.

“No, sir. You sounded perfectly clueless.” Jonas opened a pair of gilded white doors. “Your rooms, sir.”

Emily looked around the room. It was smaller than she’d expected, only a little larger than it needed to be to hold a pair of baroque-looking upholstered couches which, like the staff, the walls, and much of the other furniture she’d seen so far, were gilded. Once they passed through the door on the far wall, she laughed. “Oh, that was just a sitting room, I guess.”

Inside was a decidedly more modern room complete with couches, a kitchenette with its own island, and a large flat screen TV on the wall. Nick’s suitcases sat in the middle of the room, waiting for him. He said casually, “I’d like to fuck you in that sitting room before we leave.”

Emily gave him a shocked look and slapped his shoulder. “Mr. Coyle, I will have you know that I am a respectable young lady and you can not speak to me that way.”

Nick gave her a positively evil leer. “Miss King, you have come alone to my rooms with me and your nipples are plainly visible. I believe I can do anything I damned well please with you.”

Emily’s heart leapt in her chest at his look and the note in his voice. She bolted towards what she hoped was a bedroom. Nick was fast on her heels. It was a bedroom and Nick caught her around the waist, lifted her off her feet, and carried her to the bed with him. Emily twisted to face him. “Sir, stop! You will ruin me!”

Nick kissed her, pressing her back into the coverlet. One hand went up under her shirt. He squeezed her breast and teased the nipple. “Good, I’ve enjoyed ruining you so much in the past.”

Emily tugged at his hair so she could look him in the eyes. Very softly, she said, “Rake. Scoundrel. Cad.” making each sound like a term of endearment.

“Fallen woman.” Nick unbuttoned her blouse.

“Harlot?” Emily writhed under him. “Jade?”

“I ... don’t know what it means if you call a woman a jade,” Nick paused.

Emily knew Nick could be touchy about certain words. “I am a respectable young woman, overcome by carnal desire for the lord of the manor. Will you take advantage of me, sir?”

“Yes.” Nick kissed her again. By the time the kiss broke, Emily had pulled off his shirt and was waiting to divest him of his t-shirt. She stripped him to the waist and lay back. “Take me, Nick.”

Nick stripped off her pants and thong. Emily opened her legs and reached up to draw him close enough to kiss, but he lowered his mouth to her and, before she could do much to encourage or dissuade him, his tongue was inside of her and his finger teasing her tender flesh.

She had a moment to worry that, after hours in a plane, she might be less fresh than she hoped, but she was able to reason that she’d spent most of the flight wearing only a thong just before she lost the desire to reason about anything at all. Nick was enthusiastic and she was so ready for him. The combination soon had her panting, gasping, and clawing at the coverlet like she was afraid she might fall off otherwise. By the time Nick kissed his way up her body and brought her the taste of her own sex, she was already trembling with need and pleasure, on the cusp of going over the edge.

Nick took her. She came. Her senses were scrambled enough that she couldn’t say which happened first. She thought that maybe the anticipation of him being inside of her might have been enough to put her over the edge. It hardly mattered. She locked her ankles behind him, bit his shoulder, and clawed his back until her senses became sufficiently unscrambled that she could speak. She reached up and stroked his hair. “Please, sir. Promise me that you will make an honest woman out of me after this?”

Nick’s rhythm faltered and, a moment later, Emily realized why. She hadn’t thought about the real meaning of the term before saying it, but she’d just asked Nick to marry her, a subject they’d certainly never discussed before. Thinking quickly, she gripped his ass in one hand and pulled him in. “Just not ... too honest.”

Nick took her head in both hands and kissed her hard. “I think I like you just as honest as you are now, Em.”

Some time later, Nick lay naked on his stomach possibly dozing. Emily lay on her side, and traced the fresh marks she’d clawed into Nick’s back with a fingertip. They weren’t the only marks there, but they were the most vivid. Others criss-crossed them and each other, some fairly new, some just ghosts of what they’d been, an archaeology of lusts pursued and sated. When Nick didn’t stir, she kissed them, imagining she was getting each in turn from the newest to the oldest. She wondered if one day she would discover he’d taken a new lover because her scratches didn’t look like those of the women he was already with.

At some point while Nick was ruining her, Emily must have received a text because her phone had chirped in her purse to let her know she’d missed a message. She ignored it until it chirped a second time. Sighing, she climbed out of bed, went looking for her purse, and eventually found she’d dropped it in the main room when she’d bolted away from Nick. She extracted the phone and saw she had a text from Jessalyn that read, “We’re making plans to go to Babette’s for dinner if you two are going to be free” and was followed with a hyperlink to a menu for Babette’s, which turned out to be a waterfront restaurant with a large outdoor dining area and a stage for live music. Emily walked back into the bedroom with her phone.

Nick had curled around to watch her return. “What’s up?”

Emily turned the phone for him to see. “Jessalyn and some number of other people are planning to go out to dinner. Do we want to join them?”

Nick glanced at the clock next to the bed. It read 4:22 PM. “I did invite her to come down for the express purpose of being our guide to New Orleans and the bed will probably still be here when we get back.”

Emily smiled. “Plus, we do have to eat some time. If we do that again without food, I might faint.”

“You want to go?” Nick asked.

“I do. It’s been a while since I went out to eat,” said Emily.

“Me too. Raoul is such a good cook, I don’t really think about it most of the time.” Nick sighed. “Plus, I’m still kind of adapting to the idea that random people on the street might know who I am.”

“I get that ... not that people know who I am specifically, but...” Emily ran a hand through her hair.

“But you’re an incredibly hot girl and probably get approached even more than I do. I get it.” Nick sat up and kissed her shoulder. “I talked to SSCS and Gibraltar. I actually have a security presence whenever I go out now. They work hard to be inconspicuous, but they’re out there.”

Emily could sense that Nick wasn’t entirely happy about that. To lighten the mood, she asked, “You mean like a posse?”

Nick laughed. “I asked them the same question. Apparently, to be a posse, you have to be conspicuous. If you’re inconspicuous, you’re a security presence.”

“That’s why Handsome Charlie’s here with us?” Emily asked.

Nick rolled his eyes at the security guard’s nickname. “Charles is here to be the visible part of the security team - enough that people understand we’re not unprotected. I don’t know the details of the presence here in New Orleans, but Zola does and I trust her to make sure it’s sufficient.”

A disturbing thought crossed Emily’s mind and she almost didn’t bring it up, but this was Nick and she trusted him not to get angry at questions. “Do I have an inconspicuous security presence when I leave the Loft?”

“Not generally, no. If you’re with me, they’re watching out for you as well. But unless you explicitly ask for security, nobody’s watching you without your knowledge - not on my behalf anyway.” Nick kissed her shoulder again. “It’s unsettling enough to have it for myself. I wouldn’t impose it on anyone else.”

Emily leaned back, lay her head on his leg, and looked up at him. “Well, I can’t say I’m sorry you have a permanent security detail. As your former social media manager, I know how many very strange people have fixated on you and I worried that some of them might be dangerous.”

Nick gently finger-combed her tangled hair. “I’m not sure I want it, but I should probably keep it. I resisted until I started to understand that Threnody’s fears for Verity’s safety weren’t entirely paranoid. There are political factions in Ferrari that hold grudges going back to long before the Stones got involved and at least one of them has a long history of kidnappings as a political tool.”

Emily looked up at him. “Didn’t somebody try to kidnap Threnody at some point?”

“Somebody did kidnap Threnody when she was sixteen. Simon did some research into it. A pretty common theory in the papers at the time was that it was in retaliation for her father JT kidnapping Ambra Russo in 1994,” said Nick.

Emily sat up to look at him. “Threnody’s father kidnapped someone?”

Nick shook his head. “That’s hard to say. Ambra apparently lived on his yacht for about three years and had opportunities to escape if she was being held against her will, but her family and the Ferraris have some beef going back to like the Renaissance or something and they always maintained that JT had kidnapped her.”

“Ah, so Threnody might have been kidnapped as revenge for another kidnapping that never actually happened. No wonder she’s so screwed up,” said Emily.

Nick shook his head. “JT was almost certainly involved, though. She was sixteen when she left home and nobody heard from her for over six months. Then she just showed up one day in a picture from a party on JT’s yacht. It took another year before anyone could get JT to admit that she was even there. By then, she was eighteen and nobody could force her to go home. There are pictures of her on Saint Kitts from later that same year where she’s pretty clearly on her own, one where she’s smiling and talking to a mounted police officer, even. If she was kidnapped, the nature of her relationship with JT may have changed over time.”

In spite of herself, Emily was completely engrossed in the story Nick was unwinding here. “Like Stockholm Syndrome?”

“Maybe ... or maybe she was just a sixteen year old girl who wanted to go home less than she wanted to stay where she was.” Nick looked away.

“I can understand that,” Emily said, stating the obvious. Nick hugged her before she’d quite realized she wanted a hug. She held him tight. “I have no idea if my father did anything to try to get me back after I left. If he did, I never heard about it. I suppose he could have thought Clive kidnapped me even though nothing could have been further from the truth. Having to go back was pretty much my biggest fear those first couple of years.”

Nick held her and seemed content to hold her for as long as she needed. She kissed his shoulder. “So, dinner?”

“I’d love to go out to dinner, Em. If we go with the group, can I still think of it as our first date?”

Emily laughed. “With a rake like you, Mr. Coyle, I think it best if our first date involves as many witnesses as possible.”

Nick kissed her. “I’m going to get in the shower. Meet me back here when you’re ready to go?”

“You don’t want me to join you?” Emily purred.

Nick rose and smirked at her. “I do, but if you get in that shower with me, I will fuck you until you faint.”

After he was gone, Emily fanned herself. She’d actually felt a bit of a swoon at Nick’s words. She texted Jessalyn to accept the invitation while she looked for another shower. By chance, the first door she opened led to another bedroom with an en suite bathroom and shower. Before getting in, she opened the SSCS app and asked for her luggage to be brought to Nick’s rooms.

In the shower, Emily found herself imagining that, instead of Clive, it had been Nick who had taken her away when she was sixteen. But instead of real Nick who would have been ten years old at the time, she imagined Mr. Coyle the rake who took her to his yacht and ravished her constantly. The fantasy felt both terribly wrong and incredibly hot at the same time. But she also understood in her core that, even if it had happened and been both terrible and terrifying, it would have become familiar over time and she would have had no more interest in going home to Flyspeck than she had when it was Clive. Flyspeck wasn’t home. It was where she desperately needed to get away from.

Then, because she liked the fantasy better, she imagined that she and Pilar and Kiki and Arwen and Casey were pirates in Captain Nick’s crew and they were the terror of the seven seas. Imagining pirate Kiki made her laugh out loud and chased away most of the remaining chill of hearing about the Ferrari-Stones’ history of kidnappings.

Still, she couldn’t help wonder if Nick had really considered what he was getting involved in before he kissed Verity. She wouldn’t put it past him to have done so and kissed her anyway. She could hardly fault him for his white knight tendencies. They’d pretty much saved her own life.

By the time she emerged from the shower, her luggage had been delivered and a pretty blonde woman in a gray maid’s uniform was hanging her dresses in the closet. She smiled, “Ah, Emily, right? Is this room all right for your things? I took a guess because I heard the shower, but I can move them if you like.”

“This room is fine...” Emily paused.

“Amelia, ma’am.” The maid sketched a little curtsy.

“Thank you, Amelia,” said Emily.

Amelia looked her over. It was quick, but Emily knew she was being appraised. With her wet hair and her white terry cloth robe, she was hardly at her best, but Amelia just smiled. “If you have any special requests I can help with, just ask any of the servants for me by name. I’ve helped Miss Gianna with all sorts of things.”

“Uh ... thanks. That will be all for now,” said Emily.

By the time Emily had dried her hair and dressed for dinner, she’d put Amelia out of her mind all together. Nick had put on a black suit jacket and slacks over a red button-down shirt worn open-necked. Emily had chosen a plain blue wrap dress that let her show a generous amount of cleavage while still looking fairly innocent. She chuckled at Nick. “You look like the devil himself.”

Nick put an arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. “And you look like the devil in a blue dress.”

Emily laughed. “I do not! I look like an angel come to Earth!”

Nick kissed her neck. “Fallen to Earth, maybe.”

Emily tilted her head back to fully enjoy the kiss. When Nick pulled back, she laughed. “Is this how you treat all of your first dates, Mr. Coyle?”

“Yes, in that I’m not sure I’ve been on a proper date before. I took Pilar to Montana, but something like just going out for dinner and dancing, I think this is a first for me.” Nick said.

“Me too, kind of.” Emily said. “I went out to eat with Dennis once, but I was on crutches, so it hardly counted. And Clive only ever brought me to steakhouses to show me off to other businessmen and their mistresses.”

Nick held her a little tighter. “That is the first thing you’ve ever said about Clive that I felt I could relate to - not the steakhouse thing, but I do like the idea of showing you off to men who are so proud of their mistresses and making them eat their own livers.”