Taste of Vengeance Page 7

  He turned to everyone else. “Go on in everyone and find your place setting. I’ll be right there.”

  At his words, everyone shed their aprons, hanging them on hooks. Rich Zimmer didn’t even look my way as he led the group out a different doorway. Dickhead.

  I followed everyone in, standing uncertainly in the doorway.

  After a few seconds, Damien appeared with a glass of wine and handed it to me.

  Just then the blonde woman came over and said something in a low voice to him. He nodded and turned to me. “Why don’t you join us? We’re going to check on our dogs before we sit down.”

  Our dogs.

  I followed them outside through some French doors. and was instantly jumped on by Damien’s dog. I reached down and scratched his ears. Another big beautiful dog, nearly the size of a Great Dane, approached the blonde woman.

  She leaned down, said something in his ear, and turned to me.

  “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Sydney Rye.”

  “I’m Gia Santella.” I wasn’t sure whether to shake hands or not. She smiled.

  “This is Blue.”

  “He’s gorgeous.” I leaned down to scratch him behind the ears.

  We watched for a moment as Damien scooped up his own dog and was nuzzling it, burying his face in its fur and laughing as it pulled back and licked his jaw.

  “I have a pit bull mix rescue at home,” I said.

  Damien must have heard me because he swore. “Damn it! I should’ve told you to bring Django!”

  I looked at the two dogs giving each other playful nips. “He would have loved to hang with these two. For sure. He’s dog deprived. I feel so guilty about it.”

  “Well, next time for sure,” Damien said. “We better get inside before Rich gets his panties in a bundle.”

  I followed him through a door into the dining room.

  It felt like we’d stepped into Dracula’s castle.

  The dining room had high ceilings, black curtains on one wall, and wall scones with dripped red wax candles. A massive dark wood table covered in candelabras took up most of the room. Our group was already seated at one end of the huge table.

  Damien looped his arms through both of ours so we were on each side of him. I felt like a fucking trophy girl at a Nascar starting line so I squirmed free. I noticed Sydney did the same.

  Pulling back a chair, Damien gestured for me to sit on his right beside Rich Zimmer. He seated Sydney at his left.

  I was introduced to everyone at the table. There were three other women, making a total of five. And four men. I wondered if this was why Damien had latched on to me and Sydney. I was getting a bad feeling about this.

  But the conversation at dinner was casual and light-hearted, discussing the San Francisco Giants baseball team, the latest film from French modernist director Olivier Assayas, and how South Korea was trying to develop a robot soldier—a Terminator come to life.

  “We pulled funding on that project,” Zimmer said. “It was just too fucking scary.”

  Damien nodded. “I love A.I. and I definitely want to be at the forefront, but I refuse to finance anything that can be used in war.”

  I tried not to lean over and kiss him. The wine was going to my head.

  Every time I finished my glass, it magically filled again. I mean, I knew Rich was refilling it with the bottles from the center of the table, but I never seemed to catch him doing it. The alcohol was making me feel sensual and a bit hazy. Suddenly, Damien had never seemed quite so cute. I couldn’t stop laughing at everything he said. But then, again, neither could anybody else. He was the life of the party. I wondered if Rich minded playing second-fiddle to Damien. Every once in a while, I caught Rich watching Damien with an odd expression. I couldn’t quite figure it out. It appeared to be a mixture of both disdain and admiration.

  I noticed that Rich was very attentive to Sydney. Her glass never appeared empty, either, but I wasn’t sure if that was because she was sipping the drink slowly or if Rich was keeping her well lubricated, as well.

  23

  Full of Crap

  Between Thornwell and Zimmer, the two men did a good job keeping Gia’s wine glass filled, making Sydney worried for the woman. After all, the way Gia looked at him, it appeared she’d already drank The Damien Thornwell Kool-Aid.

  The party had moved into the den. The entire floor was covered in fur throws and pillows. Dozens of gem-colored hanging Moroccan lamps reinforced the harem feel

  Thornwell had Gia off in a corner, whispering something to her. His hand on her waist. He was isolating his prey. Zimmer’s eyes flicked over to the couple. Sydney watched him scowl.

  Well, that was interesting.

  The exotic-looking woman with the British accent was the first one to plop onto the floor. She’d obviously been there before. She reached for a brightly painted ceramic dish with a lid and extracted a joint. Leaning over, she lit it with a candle. She peered into another container but then frowned.

  “Where’s the Molly, old chap?” she said, exhaling. “I’m ready for my taste.”

  Zimmer leaned down and kissed the woman long and hard on the lips. “Maybe I want you sober tonight, Zoe.”

  She snickered. “Hardly. Give it up, Richie.”

  He laughed and extracted a pill case with a mosaic lid from a shelf nearby. “Okay. Okay. Here’s your taste.”

  Zoe grabbed the case and unearthed a small blue pill. She put it on her tongue and then lay back onto the cushions with a blissful smile.

  Zimmer leaned over and pressed a button. Sensual Indian music poured out of hidden speakers. Zoe got up and languidly danced. The other two women joined her, caressing her body as she writhed in front of them.

  Thornwell led Gia by the hand and drew her down onto a pile of fur pillows. He lit a joint and handed it to her without inhaling any of it himself.

  Interesting, Sydney thought, wondering if Thornwell avoided drugs or if the joint was laced with something stronger he didn’t want to ingest.

  But Gia didn’t hesitate to take a long pull off the joint before she passed it to the guy beside her.

  Fuck, Sydney thought. Am I the only one here with any sense? She’d thought maybe she’d have an ally in Gia, but it wasn’t turning out that way. Right now, it looked like she’d have to babysit her, too.

  She flopped down in one corner and crossed her legs, reaching for a goblet of wine on a small wooden table near the floor. One of the men, Tim or something, sat down beside her, pushing back his floppy bangs and giving her a wide grin.

  “Is this your first Rich party?”

  She lied. “Is it obvious?”

  He laughed. He had a sweet smile. “It’s cool. They’re a little different, but what’s great is that it’s all free will—you know. Nobody is pressured into anything.”

  “Pressured into what?” Sydney thought she might as well push the point.

  “You know,” the man said, ducking his head a little with embarrassment. “Taking Molly or having sex.”

  His cheeks bloomed red. Sydney thought it was cute.

  “So, if I don’t want to have sex or take drugs, it’s cool.”

  He nodded fervently. “Oh, yeah.”

  “And you’ll still like me in the morning?”

  “Ha ha.” He got up then. “Excuse me, I have to use the bathroom.”

  Sure, it was “cool.” She knew as soon as he came back, he’d sit by one of the other women, someone who would say yes to Rich’s party antics.

  Sydney noticed Maeve watching her. The woman scooted closer and said in a low voice.

  “He’s full of crap, you know.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Here’s the thing. You can say no. And then you’re fucked later. My friend said no. Guess what? The promotion she’d been promised. Poof. Gone. She was, like, persona non-grata, at work after that. I mean, she still has a job and all that, but all that attention she’d been getting from her boss? It was bullshit. All he wanted was to have
a threesome with her and his wife at a Rich party.”

  The woman had been whispering. But Zimmer and Thornwell hadn’t missed a beat. Both men spoke in low voices and looked their way, although Sydney was fairly certain they couldn’t hear what was being said.

  Sydney’s eyes narrowed. “And if you do? If you fuck them and take their drugs, then what?”

  The woman stubbed out her joint. “You’re fucked then, too. You might get the promotion. Get taken on some special trips and get special attention, maybe a shopping trip to Paris, but after a few months, you’re back to nobody again.”

  “So, what’s the play? What are you doing?” Sydney pretended to rummage in the ceramic bowl for a joint, watching Zimmer out of the corner of her eye, but she was listening carefully.

  “I don’t have one. I’m fucked if I do. And I’m fucked if I don’t. I wish I’d never been told about these goddamn parties.”

  “Hey, quick question,” Sydney said, glancing at Thornwell and Zimmer. Neither men were looking her way. “Do you know a woman named Alaia?”

  The woman thought about it for a second, raising Sydney’s hopes, but then frowned. “No. Not familiar at all.”

  The floppy-haired man came back and sat on the other side of the woman. She turned to him with a big smile, but not before leaning over to whisper to Sydney. “He seems the least harmless. Might as well get it over with.”

  The woman leaned over and placed her hand on the man’s thigh.

  What Sydney needed was access to that notebook that Alaia had mentioned in her text. Sydney had a feeling it held the key to everything. It was most likely in Rio, but it didn’t hurt to look around here. She’d need an excuse to get up and snoop around.

  Another man was staring boldly at Sydney. She smiled and looked away, playing coy. He would do.

  24

  Unstoppable

  April 2010

  Finally, after years spent in dark garages hacking security systems, writing code, and learning how to create the most potent MDMA drug in the world, they had made it.

  They’d come up with a foolproof plan and the money was flowing like a river.

  This was their year. By the end of the year, they’d both traded in their Corvettes for Porsches.

  They’d sold their Russian Hill apartments for ridiculously priced homes in Atherton.

  They donated their Brooks Brothers suits and flew to Paris to be outfitted in couture.

  They’d been featured numerous times in Forbes Magazine.

  It was what they’d dreamed about for years.

  They were rich, powerful, and getting fucked as much as they wanted.

  They were unstoppable.

  25

  Close Call

  After a few minutes talking to the other man, Sydney approached Zimmer. He was lying sprawled on his back while both women, eyes glazed, stroked his jean-clad thighs and bare arms.

  Sydney knelt down beside him. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

  He smiled and grabbed her arm. She fought off the instinct to head-butt him or elbow him in the throat.

  “Rich, I think I should check on Blue before I …” she glanced back at the other man.

  He laughed. “Your mutt is fine.”

  Sydney hoped he was too high to notice the fury she was sure had flashed across her face before she reigned it in.

  “I just won’t be able to relax until I check on him.”

  “What’s your point?” Zimmer’s voice had grown cold.

  “I wanted to make sure it was okay with you.” Again, she looked back at the man who waited expectantly.

  Zimmer smiled. “Ah. Yes. All is good. Have fun. Breakfast is at nine.”

  Sydney stood without answering. She wouldn’t be sticking around for breakfast. Now she had an excuse if Zimmer found her wandering around his house, she’d say she got lost looking for the door to the backyard.

  As she forced a smile at the man waiting for her, she noticed Damien and the brunette slipping out a side door. For a second, Damien’s eyes met hers and held them. His gaze raked her body, giving her goosebumps. She’d worry about him later.

  It was easy to slip the Roofie into the wine glass in the candlelit bedroom. She just turned her back to the man and poured him more wine. She handed him the glass but he waved it away. She’d have to try harder.

  “I really dig the taste of red wine on a man’s mouth and tongue.”

  That was all it took. He downed the glass and then threw it against the wall, roughly pulling her on top of him on the bed. In less than three seconds, she had repositioned herself so her knees had locked onto the inside of his elbows and her forearm was pressed tightly across his neck. His eyes widened in surprise and he struggled to get free.

  “Sorry. You’re not my type.”

  Her choke hold made him pass out. By the time he regained consciousness, the Roofie should make his thinking fuzzy about what had happened. She hoped she hadn’t given him too much, but she needed to make sure he was out for at least an hour. At the door, she glanced over and heard him breathing steadily. He’d live. Locking the door behind her, she slipped out and made her way to the north side of the house. She needed to find Zimmer’s office and look at all his notebooks.

  The office door was unlocked. Sydney’s heart raced up into her throat as she stepped inside. More than anything she wished Blue were by her side, but he was her excuse if she got caught snooping around in this part of the house.

  26

  Dangerous Liaisons

  If I thought for a second I’d be able to resist Damien, I’d been fooling myself. I could keep my emotions locked up tightly, but the chemistry between us was off the charts.

  Resistance was futile.

  I knew what I was getting into. Pure, raw, casual sex with a powerful, charismatic man. Possibly the most charming and formidable man I’d ever met, in fact.

  From the minute he greeted me in the brightly lit kitchen handing me a glass of wine, to the time he took my hand and guided me by the waist to a sumptuous guest bedroom, I was putty in his hands. I liked sex.

  I especially liked sex with Damien.

  He wasn’t the best-looking guy around. He was fairly average looking. He had a trim body, but nothing spectacular. But it was the way he looked at me. It was the way he held himself, like a lion ready to pounce. And, ultimately, it ended up being all about how he worshipped every inch of my body in the bedroom.

  After his comment about being selfish, I’d expected him to be a self-centered lover, but he was attentive and concentrated on my pleasure. Only when I’d exhausted myself with orgasms, did he let himself go.

  Lying there in the candlelight from medieval iron lanterns, I turned to him.

  “What’s your secret, Caligula?”

  He laughed, but then sobered. “Nobody has ever asked me that.”

  “They are just so satiated from fucking you, they assume that like everything else you touch, you are gifted, you have the golden Midas touch?”

  “I guess.” He turned on his side and put his head up on his hand. “But you see right through me.”

  I doubted that, but it made me flush with pleasure. “So fess up, Romeo. How did you get to be such an attentive lover? Tell me, was your first lover an older woman who schooled you in the ways of making love? A Mrs. Robinson?”

  At my words a dark cloud seemed to pass over his features but quickly disappeared.

  “You’ll laugh if I tell you.”

  “I can’t guarantee I won’t.”

  He sighed and then pushed himself so he was propped up.

  “Remember I told you that I didn’t even have my first date until I was twenty because I was busy studying, working toward...” he threw out his arm. “All of this.”

  “This is Rich’s house.”

  “You know what I mean?”

  “Yes.” My voice was quiet.

  “I didn’t want to be some bumbling idiot, groping a girl. Coming within two seconds of touching her. Shit l
ike that. I wanted to be an expert.”

  “Mission fucking accomplished,” I said, reaching for my glass of wine.

  “So how did you become an expert?”

  “This is the funny part.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “I took a class.”

  “A class? A class on fucking?”

  “No. An online class on how to pleasure a woman. It was called something like how to give your woman a million orgasms or something.”

  “Oh.”

  “You’re not laughing.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe it’s because most men should take that class.”

  He smiled, then reached over and grabbed me and kissed my mouth, gently at first, then more urgently. He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked upset. For the first time since I’d met him.

  “I didn’t expect you to be like this,” he said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Most heiresses are self-centered and spoiled and really shallow.”

  “Surprise.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t do monogamy.”

  “So, you’ve said.” I was annoyed. I never said I wanted to be monogamous.

  “I like my life. I like my social circle. I never get bored.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanation.” I pulled the covers up to my chin. I was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

  “I’m still playing catch up.”

  “Listen, Damien. You do your thing. I’ll do mine. We can have great sex and leave it at that.”

  But he shook his head. “But I think I want more.”

  I stared at him blankly.

  “But if … just say if I had more of a relationship with you,” he said. “I still could never be committed. I could never restrict myself to just one person. At least not sexually.”