Dark Perception: The Corde Noire Series Read online

  Pressing down on the yellow intercom button, she frowned. “Just finishing up.”

  “I’m on my way,” he said over the speaker.

  “The front door is open.”

  Returning to her bathroom mirror, Melinda hurried to dab the lip-gloss to her lips just like Bonnie, the makeup specialist, had shown her.

  Bonnie had been one in a long line of people that had visited Melinda over the past several days. While Nathan was tied up in meetings, a parade of hairdressers, manicurists, massage therapists, and dressmakers had come and gone from her apartment.

  When she stepped back from the mirror, Melinda was pleased with her efforts. Her red hair looked good in the french twist she had tried to recreate after seeing the stylist do it. Her makeup was subtle, her pale skin glowed, and her dress showed enough curves to flatter, but not so much to make Nathan uncomfortable.

  As she walked out of her bedroom, she heard a faint knocking coming from the direction of the storage closet. Melinda stood motionless as she stared at the metal door. She crept closer and examined the deadbolt securing it. No one had touched it. Had the knocking been her imagination?

  “I like what you’ve done,” Nathan purred behind her.

  She wheeled around and saw him standing at the entrance to the hallway.

  “I can see all the money I’ve spent on your makeover team was well worth it.”

  “You’ve had so many people coming and going out of my apartment lately. Perhaps it would have been cheaper for me to go to them. Might be nice to get out for a change. I feel like I’ve been cooped up here for days.”

  “That’s why we are going out this evening. Besides, there is no need for you to go running all over the city when I can afford to bring the best to you.” He pointed to her neck. “Where is your black collar?”

  Melinda’s hand went to her throat. She had forgotten to put it on after her shower. “I must have left it in the bathroom.”

  “Then get it,” he grumbled. “You need to have it tonight.”

  “Why? What’s so special about tonight?”

  He inched closer, his eyes two dark flames. “Because I want the men there to know that you belong to me … completely.”

  “How will a necklace tell them that?”

  He adjusted the sleeve on his tuxedo jacket. “There will be a few members of my Corde Noire Society at this party tonight. They need to see you in that collar.”

  “Are you ever going to tell me more about this club? What you do, for example?”

  “Soon I will tell you all about it, but for the time being … get your collar.”

  Melinda returned to her bathroom and found the black silk cord necklace was just where she had left it on her white-granite vanity. Snapping it up, she hurried from the bathroom.

  When she trotted up to Nathan, he smiled. “Good girl.” He took the black necklace from her and secured it around her neck. Patting it lovingly, he turned her around to face him. “I’ve got the car waiting downstairs, so we’d better get moving.” Taking her elbow, he escorted her down the short hall toward the front door.

  “What’s this event again?” she asked, grabbing her black-beaded clutch from the sofa.

  “A celebration of Ren Plancharde’s artwork at the New Orleans Opera Guild Home. Denise Becnel is hosting the event and personally invited both of us.” He waited by the open front door for her.

  “Ren Plancharde?” Melinda came up to him. “The artist whose work is hanging in your penthouse?”

  “The very same. It’s going to be an important function for the social set, and a great opportunity to start selling slots in our retail space to a few local business people.”

  She approached the door. “Things are going well with the negotiations, I take it.”

  “We’ve hit a snag or two, but nothing that can’t be worked out. If we’re lucky, we might get ground broken in a few months.” He guided her through the front door and then pulled it shut. “Let’s get a move on before we’re way beyond fashionably late.”

  * * *

  The New Orleans Opera Guild Home was a white Greek Revival mansion built in 1854 with a small octagonal tower, and was used for wedding receptions and special events. Hidden behind a line of elegant oak trees on Prytania Street, the former residence of the wealthy Davis-Seebold family had been acquired by the Women’s Opera Guild in 1966, and after being restored was opened to the public.

  “Are you sure about this?” Melinda murmured to Nathan as they climbed the front steps to the entrance of the regal home.

  He patted her back. “Just relax. I’ll never leave your side.”

  The front parlor was decorated in eighteenth and nineteenth century European and American furniture with dark pine floors, white-inlaid plaster ceilings, a crystal-beaded chandelier, and a green-granite hearth adorned with a long ornate gold-framed mirror.

  A few paintings resting on easels were strategically placed about the front parlor as a handful of guests filtered through the room. Nathan picked up a program from a table to the left of the entrance and handed it to Melinda.

  “All the paintings being showcased this evening are described in this. Find the ones you like and I’ll buy a few for our new place.”

  Melinda looked up from the program. “Are you serious?”

  “We’re going to need something to put on the walls in our new apartment.”

  “But I don’t know anything about art, Nathan.”

  “Neither do I. That’s why I’m leaving the decision making up to you.”

  Melinda gleaned the descriptions of the paintings outlined in the program and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Have you seen what’s in here?”

  Nathan chuckled at her astonishment. “Ren Plancharde is known for painting bondage-themed portraits. These are a few of his more palatable works, trust me. The racier stuff he sells only to collectors and never shows in public.”

  “Is that why you have him on your walls? Because of the bondage theme?”

  Before Nathan could respond, a fit, stunning man with wavy brown hair and dressed in an impeccable black suit glided up to them.

  “Cole, how are you?” He held out his hand to Nathan. “Heard you’re about to hit it big with that Market Street property.”

  “Sebastian.” Nathan firmly shook his hand. “Good to see you, and yes, it looks like we have a launch on that property.”

  Sebastian gave a deep, hypnotic snicker. “My hat’s off to you, Cole. Denise Becnel is a tough bitch to crack.”

  “We haven’t cracked her quite yet.” Nathan turned to Melinda. “Sebastian Dane, this is Melinda Harris. Sebastian owns Dane Shipping.”

  The handsome man turned his arctic blue eyes to Melinda. For an instant, she noted the flash of interest in her black collar.

  “Yes, I’ve heard of Dane Shipping,” she admitted, mesmerized by his edgy face and perfectly carved jaw.

  “You allow her to speak in public?” Sebastian queried, eyeing Nathan.

  Melinda was floored by the comment. What in the hell did he mean, ‘allow her to speak’?

  Nathan saw the incredulity swimming in her eyes. “Sebastian is a fellow follower of the art.” Nathan tilted closer to her. “He’s a Dom, like me.” He grinned at Sebastian. “A much stricter Dom, of course. I never make my subs adhere to rules, especially when attending parties.”

  Sebastian’s icy blue eyes ran over Melinda with a trace of interest. “Is everything arranged for my little experiment?”

  Melinda volleyed her eyes between the two men. What are they talking about?

  “An apartment has been set aside for you in my building as you requested. It’s right next door to your … subject.” Nathan slipped his arm around Melinda’s waist.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m ready to begin.” Sebastian gave her a flirty grin. “Miss Harris, it was a pleasure. Keep your eye on this man of yours.” He dipped his head to Nathan. “He’s about to get a lot of people in this town very excited.”

/>   Nathan scanned the parlor. “Is Denise here yet?”

  “In the solarium with Plancharde. You know Denise, she loves his work.” Sebastian raised his head to the entrance of the parlor. “You may want to get to her before more guests arrive. Once she gets going at these things, there is no getting a word in with her.”

  Nathan nodded. “Thanks for the tip, Sebastian.”

  Before Melinda could say good-bye, Nathan hurried her to the parlor entrance.

  Melinda glanced back at the handsome Sebastian Dane. “Why is he moving into your building, Nathan?”

  “It’s just for a brief stint. There is someone he’s out to … Master.”

  “A woman?” Melinda guessed.

  “Afraid so.” Nathan rolled his eyes. “With Sebastian Dane, it’s always about a woman.”

  He took her hand as they negotiated a long hallway with brass wall sconces and delicate beige, paisley wallpaper. Their feet creaked on the old floorboards as Nathan peeked in each of the white cypress doors leading to adjacent rooms. Near the end of the hallway, he stopped and tugged at Melinda’s hand. Nathan turned back to her and gestured to a room on his right.

  When they stepped inside, Melinda was amazed at the highly polished green-marble floor and long row of white french doors decorated in intricately frosted leaded-glass. The oval-shaped room had little furniture except for a few wooden chairs and an assortment of easels supporting numerous large paintings. In front of one portrait at the end of the room was a couple with their backs to Nathan and Melinda. The woman, dressed in a beaded gown of gold, stood with her arm about a tall man with dark blond hair. The pair seemed to be talking intently about a brightly colored piece of a half-naked woman before them.

  “Ah, there she is,” Nathan called into the room.

  Denise Becnel spun around and her hazel eyes zeroed in on Nathan. “Ah, glad you could make it.” She came across the room to greet them. “I’m happy to say my son will not be making an appearance this evening,” she added as she stopped before them.

  “I want to apologize for what happened at your party, Mrs. Becnel,” Melinda remarked.

  Denise waved a diamond-studded hand in the air. “Please don’t worry about it, Melinda. Anytime my son is involved, there’s always some kind of drama.” She paused and looked over Melinda’s necklace. “James has told me quite a bit about you. He seems very impressed with your talent.” She looked to the man still standing by the easel across the room. “Ren? Come and meet Nathan’s newest conquest.”

  Melinda was instantly struck by the handsome man. He had a long stride as he came across the room, and his disquieting green eyes stood out against his rugged features. He had an overly confident bearing, as if he knew he could sway women with just a flash of his smile.

  “Ren Plancharde.” Denise waved to Melinda. “I would like you to meet Melinda Harris. Melinda is a friend of my son James.”

  “Hello, Miss Harris,” Ren said in a gravelly voice. “Nathan, good to see you again.” He took Nathan’s outstretched hand and shook it.

  “Ren, business is booming I see.” Nathan’s eyes scanned the canvases in the room. “You’ve got some wonderful pieces here.”

  Ren gave Melinda’s black necklace a cursory going over. “Thank you, Nathan. I see you haven’t been doing so bad yourself.” He veered his gaze to Nathan. “Denise tells me you two are planning quite a place over there on Market Street.”

  Nathan shrugged his hands into his pockets. “We’re trying, which is why I need to steal her away for a few minutes.”

  Denise pouted at Nathan. “Tonight, Nathan? Isn’t this what we pay lawyers for?”

  Nathan displayed a ravishing smile. “Why pay people three hundred dollars an hour to discuss something when you and I can do it for free?”

  “Well, if you’re going to use common sense on me, I’m afraid I will have to give in.” Denise patted Ren’s arm. “Ren, why don’t you show Melinda your work while Nathan and I have our chat?”

  “Happy to, Denise.”

  Denise latched on to Nathan’s arm. “We can go to the library upstairs and talk.”

  Nathan offered Melinda an encouraging glance and then allowed Denise to escort him from the solarium.

  So much for never leaving my side.

  Alone in the room, Melinda gave the handsome Ren Plancharde a nervous smile. “So how long have you been an artist?”

  Ren clasped his hands behind his back. “All my life, but I didn’t get serious about it until I was in high school.”

  “How do you know Denise?”

  “We met when she bought one of my paintings. At the time, I was just another hungry artist hanging out at Jackson Square.”

  Melinda was taken aback. “You worked the Square?”

  “And you are the amazing girl who can see the future and hangs out under the large oak tree next to the woman with the wild pink hair. I’ve heard many of your patrons praise your ability.” He raised his disconcerting green eyes to the room entrance. “So what are you doing with Nathan Cole?”

  Melinda struggled to remember him from her days at Jackson Square, but couldn’t place his face. “I, ah, work for Nathan.”

  “Work? Really? What does that entail?” He ambled toward one of his paintings at the edge of the room.

  She followed him, peeved by his condescending tone. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what I mean, Melinda.” He stared into the portrait of a woman tied to a bed in the throes of pleasure. “That black cord around your neck means you belong to him. You’re his submissive.”

  She touched her collar. “You know about this?”

  “About the Corde Noire Society?” He snorted, sounding annoyed. “Yeah, I know.”

  “What is this society? Can you tell me?”

  He shook his head. “Nathan should tell you that, not me. It’s not my place.”

  Melinda followed him with her eyes as he mulled over another painting of a blindfolded blonde with a gag in her red-painted mouth. “You belong to this society, don’t you?”

  He kept his eyes on the painting. “Would that surprise you?”

  She crept closer to him. “Do you have someone like me?”

  “No. I’m better at painting women like you, not … playing with them.”

  “I don’t understand. How did you go from selling paintings on Jackson Square to this?” She waved her hand around the room of graphic artwork.

  “I started out like you … a street performer, hocking my paintings of New Orleans icons to tourists. Then, one day, a wealthy benefactress came along and asked for very specific paintings about bondage to hang in her club. A club that caters to men with such tastes.” He flourished his hand over his painting. “And here I am. A purveyor of the provocative.” Ren took a moment to consider her reaction. “Tell me, what does Nathan really pay you to do?”

  She turned her eyes to his painting, suddenly feeling ashamed. “Read people for him. Like I did in the Square.”

  “Just read?”

  She leveled her green eyes on him, not hiding her indignation. “Does Denise pay you to just paint?”

  He rubbed his eye, appearing bored. “She doesn’t pay me. I can afford to paint without her help.”

  “Then why are you here? Seems to me you could do a lot better than this crowd.”

  “Better?” He threw back his head and let go an energetic cackle. The noise bounced off the shiny marble floor. “You’re funny. Does Nathan pay you to be funny, too?”

  Melinda ignored his comment, and wanting to change the subject, cast her gaze to his painting. “Your work has a real … visceral quality to it. Like you can sense the model’s emotions.”

  Ren placed his hand discreetly over his mouth, hiding his snicker. “That’s probably because my pieces are about bondage.”

  Her cheeks blushed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about art. I was just trying to be—”

  “No, I think that’s the one of the more honest review
s I’ve received.” He sighed as he surveyed the other paintings in the solarium. “Denise insisted on having this show for me. She wanted to introduce my art to her society friends.”

  She followed his eyes around the room. “Is it helping?”

  “I’m selling paintings. Isn’t that the goal?”

  She turned to him. “Is it?”

  He shifted his attention to a portrait of a woman, hogtied, with running mascara and bright red lips. “I always thought so, but now I’m not so sure. I think the goal for any artist is to be able to express their ideas. Unfortunately, food, shelter, and taxes tend to get in the way of that expression. Sometimes, we do things we’re not that crazy about to get by.”

  “So you’re not painting what you really want to paint, is that it?”

  “I can’t afford to do that … not yet, anyway.”

  “I hope one day you get the chance to paint what you want, Ren.”

  “Thank you, Melinda.” He bowed his head to her. “I’ll keep you posted on my progress.”

  She stroked the program in her hand, wondering how to kill time before Nathan’s return. “Why don’t you show me the pieces you like the most and I’ll tell Nathan to buy them.” She held up the program. “I was put in charge of finding artwork for his new apartment on Market Street.”

  Ren took a moment and examined her with his disturbing green eyes. “You do know that Denise is having second thoughts about the project, right?” he finally revealed.

  “No. Nathan said they had some problems, but I got the impression it was nothing major.”

  Ren arched an eyebrow at her. “I hope they can work it out. Otherwise, there’ll be no living with him.”

  Picturing an angry and discontented Nathan, Melinda’s heart sank. What would their life together be like if his deal fell through?

  Ren noticed Melinda’s worried countenance. “Come. I’ll give you the grand tour of my collection.”

  Melinda put on a fake smile. “Thank you. I would love that.”

  Ren showed her each of the paintings in the solarium, describing his motivation and what he was trying to accomplish with the work. When they had finished, he guided her to the double parlor next door. Decorated with ornate gold-leaf furniture, beige draperies, and an array of cream Oriental rugs, the brilliant room briefly lifted Melinda’s spirits.