POPULAR INDUSTRIALIST KILLED DURING SENATOR’S DAUGHTER’S RESCUE
He rubbed his finger against his lower lip as he read, a frown pulling between his brows. One of his favored employers, it seemed, had been killed during the rescue. Jansen Clay. He almost smiled when he read that Clay had died during the rescue of Senator Stanton’s daughter, Emily. Evidently the American government didn’t like the truth. Jansen Clay was no hero. He’d proven that when he’d arranged the first kidnapping of Emily Stanton along with two other girls, one of whom was Clay’s own daughter. No doubt he had wished his plain little daughter had been killed during the kidnapping nearly two years before.
Emily Stanton and Risa Clay had survived, though. The third had died. And now, Clay was dead after trying to arrange the kidnapping of the Stanton girl again. The fool.
He stared at the picture before frowning. Another of his employers was involved in this affair. He knew Diego Fuentes had acquired the scientist’s services just months before, because the man had actually approached Orion’s handler to price the hit on Fuentes. Unfortunately, Orion hadn’t finished this assignment as of yet.
Interesting.
He stared at the picture of Risa Clay and Emily Stanton again and grimaced. So plain. A man would have to put a bag over Risa’s head or hide her face in the blankets to f**k her, as his employer had done nearly two years before. Were Orion to kill her, he’d definitely have to turn her facedown.
He nearly shuddered in distaste at the thought of it.
Ah well. Clay was dead; his daughter, it was rumored, was in some asylum, her brain destroyed from the drug she had been given during the kidnapping. Risa would remember little of that singular event in her life, and should be no risk to Orion’s future profits. The man who had played a role in her destruction had little to worry about.
CHAPTER 1
Six Years Later
TONIGHT RISA CLAY was going to take a lover.
Behind her, in the bathroom garbage were the overly large cotton pants and t-shirt she normally wore. None of that tonight. With her heart beating an erratic tattoo in her chest, she forced herself to turn and stare into the full-length mirror, at her na**d body. She had to force herself to look, to be objective, to push back the panic rising inside her at the thought of what she was about to do.
She was pale. Pale skin, pale br**sts, and pale pink ni**les. Her gaze went lower to the bare pale lips of her sex and she had to swallow quickly to hold back the nausea that rose in her stomach. She was pale there as well. Perhaps she should have tried the tanning bed, she thought. If her body didn’t look like her own, perhaps this would be easier to do.
She could cancel until she tanned. But she immediately vetoed that idea. No excuses, she told herself. No more backing out, no more cowardly nights hiding.
She could do this. She had gone to the spa yesterday, hadn’t she? She had sat in the chair and spread her thighs while then h„ technician had waxed her most private parts. Parts that she had hated for so long. The part of herself that she blamed for the worst episode in her life.
She forced her eyes to close and inhaled quickly. She wasn’t thinking about that tonight. She wasn’t going to let the past ruin the plan she had come up with. She had promised herself she wouldn’t. This was the right decision. She could do this. If she was ever going to regain her life and her independence, then she had to grab it with both hands and hold on, no matter how frightened she became.
Staring back at the mirror, she checked her hair. The thick, heavy dark blond strands that had once fallen halfway down her back were now shoulder length and fell neatly around her face. They weren’t pale, at least not any longer. Highlights had been added by the beautician. Dark and golden brown strands were mixed with the sandy color now. At least it no longer faded into Risa’s face.
There wasn’t much she could do with her face, with the exception of the makeup she had learned how to use. The smoky shadow highlighted her pale blue eyes and rather nondescript features and gave her an interesting appearance instead. Her lashes were longer, darkened with mascara and eyeliner. Her lips were more lush than she had thought they were. Bronze lipstick had brought out their shape, and a light coating of blush highlighted her rather high cheekbones.
The makeup specialist Risa had gone to had complimented her on her cheekbones and the arch of her eyes and taught her how to bring out the best in them. If only that addition of makeup could instill the confidence she had lost so long ago.
Risa forced in another deep breath before reaching for the soft bronze silk panties she had bought. The low-rise thong was daring and terrifying. It was an invitation. A silken bit of nothing that would take no time to pull from her body.
But that was what she wanted, she reminded herself. Something that would be easy to remove, that wouldn’t give her time to think or to consider what she was doing once she started doing it.
Next came the stockings. In ways, the stockings were even harder to put on. The thigh-high shimmering color made her legs appear longer, sexier. Another invitation. She was painting a “fuck me” sign on her body and she was doing it deliberately.
God help her to go through with this, because if she didn’t, she might never have the nerve to try again.
Smoothing the stockings over her legs, she turned to the dress that hung on the hook by the bathroom door. The dress was her own challenge, the challenge being in actually putting it on and walking out of her apartment.
She didn’t give herself time to think. The brown silk beaded baby doll dress ended well above her knees in a fall of sheer shadowy color. The bronze underslip showed through clearly and ended a few inches higher along her leg. The empire waist was banded by darker brown silk while the thin slip straps were the pale bronze of the underslip.
She smoothed the material over her h*ps before forcing herself away from the mirror and slipping on the chocolate brown stiletto heels that matched the dress.
She couldn’t look at herself in the mirror again. If she did, she might chicken out of this and hide beneath the blankets as she did night after night.
Her hands shook as Chan be she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom. Picking up the little bronze beaded evening bag, she dropped her house keys inside along with some cash, a credit card, ID, and lipstick. The brown wrap she threw over her shoulders would protect her from the chill of the air against her shoulders but little else. It was thin enough that it was no more than dark smoke against her na**d shoulders and arms.