Stepping into the leather skirt, she shimmied it up her thighs and was sure she heard Trey groan but ignored him. She wasn’t doing it for his benefit.
Grabbing the top next, she pulled it over her head and fought with it until it settled just how she wanted it and then sat on the bed’s edge again to pull on her faux leather black boots. Standing, she held her arms out, “How do I look?”
Trey’s eyes ran over her from her light blonde hair to the tips of her black boots. “Like the most beautiful hooker I’ve ever seen.”
“Trey!” She warned.
He shrugged his broad shoulders, unconcerned, “You asked.”
Delaney growled at him before turning and picking up her make-up bag. Fifteen minutes later she was happy with her appearance. She’d concentrated mainly on the eyes but had slicked on a dark red lipstick too.
She was now Tatiana, the American whore.
Putting the make-up back in the small bag, she zipped it and carried it back into the main room and chucked it into her handbag—the only thing she’d be taking with her tonight—and checked its contents. Full of typical feminine things: compact, tissues, etc.
“Right, let’s go.”
Trey cocked his head, surveying her. “You still look beautiful.”
“Trey!” She gritted out, “When will you realise it’s over between us? Not that it ever really started.”
He scowled and turned away to retrieve something he’d brought with him. “You’ll need this,” he told her sourly, handing her a small A5 canvas.
She frowned at the landscape picture for a second before it clicked. “This is what I “stole”?”
Delaney stared at the picture sceptically. It didn’t seem expensive or particularly good but she wasn’t an art expert so what did she know?
Sliding it into her bag gently, she zipped it up and hoisted it onto her shoulder. “Right, Sacha, let’s go.”
He grunted a response and escorted her downstairs to his car.
Trey must have been pissed at her then, because he’d always held the door open for her but now he totally ignored her and walked around the bonnet to climb in the driver’s side. She rolled her eyes at his childishness and climbed in.
They arrived at the compound about forty minutes later and were just climbing out when some goons came out to see who was here.
“Sacha, welcome back,” one of them said, his accent thick. His eyes went to Delaney and turned hot, “I see you fetched us a plaything.”
Despite his earlier anger, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “She’s mine.”
The man held his hands up in surrender and she wondered what had gone on between them in the few weeks Trey had been here.
Her partners arm moved to her waist and he urged her to move with him so she did.
Delaney couldn’t help but look up at the aged mansion. It was beautiful really with its old fashioned brickwork and overhanging balcony.
A shadow caught her attention on said balcony and she held her breath as whoever it was leant on the balustrade to get a better look at them. Her eyes widened fractionally when she recognised the face of Nikolai Milaniokov—one of the higher members of Heresy—and hastily looked ahead again.
Copyright 2012 Leanne Crabtree