Flora Dain - Chase

Far above us the sky remains light, pearly now as the sunlight fades. Down here in the growing darkness the bracelets gleam and flash as he pounds.

He reaches underneath me, teasing me open, his touch light, tingling like sparks. I close my eyes and sigh, treasuring the slow climb to rapture as he moves gently inside me, easing his stroke to slow us, to prolong the moment …

And then he pauses, quivers and slowly withdraws. ‘Know what? I’ve got a better plan. We’ll finish this in bed.’

Grr. My rapture’s on hold, poised at the peak. I straighten up. ‘Are you serious?’

He smiles at me calmly as he fastens himself. ‘Any objection?’ His voice is low and amused.

‘Where do I start?’ With an effort I unclench my teeth and he kisses me gently on the forehead.

‘Hey, chill. Good for you. Teach you some discipline. Come on, race you back.’

We run to the house, the way much easier downhill. He seizes my hand and drags me along the last few feet of driveway, his eyes dancing at the sight of my flushed cheeks, my wild hair and my heaving breasts. He’s still holding the switch, swishing it through the air and taking pretend swipes at my legs to speed me up.

The bracelets are heavy now, their weight and the movement from my running etching redness into my wrists. The diamonds flash in the glow from the elegant garden lighting that floods the grounds under the tall, graceful windows.

As we draw near the front entrance we pull up short.

A pale, haughty-looking man with a ponytail and a small pointy beard is coming down the steps. He’s wearing a lizard-skin jacket, tight jeans and stacked heels.

He eyes us with distaste. ‘Who the hell are you?’

I feel a moment’s pity for Ponytail. He won’t know what’s hit him.

At my side Darnley stiffens, then reaches for his phone. ‘ G2 .’ His soft murmur is barely audible in the hushed peace of the driveway. But now we notice things our fascination with each other blotted out earlier – voices from the house, movements in the windows.

We have visitors.

Darnley slips the phone back in his pocket as the butler hurries out to meet us, his face anxious.

‘Mr Wolfe, sir, these people are –’

At that moment Eldon appears in the main doorway. ‘Yo, bro’. How’s tricks? I brought some friends along. Thought we’d party now Mom and Dad have gone.’

‘Mr Wolfe, sir –’ The butler is still scanning Darnley’s face in a silent, urgent plea. It’s the first time I’ve seen this wooden individual so agitated.

‘Mr Eldon said –’

Tension crackles around us. Darnley shifts his gaze back to Eldon, his face a mask. ‘Have these people got clearance?’

Eldon’s face contracts. ‘ Clearance? Why should they? Dammit, Darnley, they’re friends of mine.’

‘Everybody who comes here gets clearance. You know that.’ Like everything else about him Darnley’s rage is carefully controlled but somehow that makes him even more terrifying. His fury is aimed at Eldon but it raises a prickle of tiny hairs all over me, too.

Ponytail actually takes a step back. ‘Who is this? Eldon? What gives?’ His voice sounds squeaky.

Eldon’s locked into Darnley’s stern gaze, his mouth stubborn. ‘ What? Fuck no. Why should they get clearance?’

‘Get rid of them.’

Darnley’s low snarl bristles with menace. Eldon holds his ground, his slack good looks shrinking into a tight scowl. ‘Fuck off, man. That’s just for when family are here.’

‘It’s for when anyone ’s here, you moron.’

As Darnley squares up to his brother there’s another, higher, squeak from Ponytail. ‘ Holy shit , Eldon. What is this? Invasion of the frigging Body Snatchers?’

From all around us men are emerging from the trees and from the sides of the house. I even spot one on the roof.

They’re dark and dangerous and they’re armed.

Darnley’s men.

Eldon takes one look around him and his eyes fill with tears of rage and frustration. ‘For fuck’s sake, Darnley, what’s the fucking matter with you? These are friends of mine. Film people. I got a possible film deal here, man. My first big break. And you have to go shit all over it with your fucking goons, you fucking megalomaniac control-freak.’

His voice is shrill now, his face contorted like an angry toddler taking home his ball. I half expect him to stamp his foot.

He may be outplayed but he still has the power to wound. His eyes flash. ‘And next time you torture your girlfriend while you’re boning her at least have the decency to treat her to some fucking Band-Aids afterwards, not solid freakin’ gold cuffs. Then maybe she’ll freakin’ heal, you freakin’ perverted freak .’

Darnley stands very still, his face stony as his men gather round us in a silent, solemn ring. From the house we hear protesting cries as more unseen visitors are rounded up and herded down the steps towards us, swelling the crowd.

All eyes instantly fasten on our little group, Darnley at its centre, his controlled fury like a force field.

In the tense silence he turns slowly to face me, his expression unreadable. ‘Go to the Lincoln Suite and stay there. This won’t take long. I’ll catch you later.’

I quail at the rage I sense building under his calm surface. I’m scared to speak in front of all these people but I give a faint nod to convey to him that I get he has things to do – Wolfe things – and our loving reunion must wait.

Unexpectedly he folds his hand slowly round my neck, tilts up my chin with his thumb and kisses me on the mouth. ‘See you later.’ His look is so intense, his touch so gentle, we might be alone here.

The others look on in silence.

He releases me slowly. His touch lingers in a statement of power, some kind of primitive signal to everyone here about territory or ownership. I’m unfamiliar with the finer points of male stand-offs but I feel a tiny spark of pride that he’s marked me out for this one.

As I make my way to the Lincoln Suite I’m already winding down when I hear voices. What?

In the doorway to our rooms I stand very still. There are three women in here. Two are casually eyeing up the Kandinsky, the other is sprawled on our bed. Her bright kaftan and fluorescent headband look outlandish, Greenwich Village going on Woodstock. They stop talking and look me up and down. One of them flicks a cigarette into a flower vase where it smoulders unpleasantly.

‘What do you want?’ A tall girl with sandals and a jutting chin scowls at me.

‘You’re in my room,’ I say evenly.

She arches an eyebrow. ‘Oh, yeah? Who says? We got here first. Go find one of your own.’

Just then Bullen, Darnley’s driver, pushes past me.

‘Security alert, ladies. Everyone’s to report outside.’

They look affronted but Bullen’s blank stare and prominent holster are very persuasive. He turns to me and lowers his voice.

‘Two gunmen spotted heading this way, ma’am. One may be in the woods, one in the house. We’ve been ordered to clear the area.’

I make an effort to keep a straight face. Gunmen?

The women look scared as he herds them towards the door and sweeps the room with a professional two-handed gun pointed into corners, cupboards and even under the bed. Another guard appears and looks on in silence as Bullen checks the other rooms in the suite and then comes back to the door, his face solemn.

As I watch something clicks: G2 . Two gunmen? Was that some kind of code?

The women push past me in their haste to get away. The other man follows them like a watchful sheepdog, ensuring they stay in line.