Page 2 of Possess Me

The murmur of conversation fills the room, punctuated by bursts of laughter or the occasional pop of a champagne cork. It’s the same vibe as opening night at the theater, and everywhere I look, I see glitz and glam. Not surprising since the cheapest ticket to this charity event cost five thousand dollars, allowing only entrance to the party and a chance to bid in the auction. The most expensive ticket priced out at a cool hundred thousand, and the five purchasers at that level are in the running to win a spa weekend for two in Manhattan. Not that extravagant considering the ticket price, but as Matthew Holt, the organizer and sponsor, pointed out, the goal is to raise money for the charity. Not to spend it.

Personally, I’m hoping Damien or I win. We could easily afford a weekend of pampering, but the idea of “free” pampering seems so much more fun. Possibly because even after so many years as a billionaire’s wife, I still have sticker shock at so many of the things that are part of the Damien Stark lifestyle.

Mostly, I’m just glad to see how much money the ticket sales have raised. Sixty percent of the proceeds are going to the primary cause—the conservation and restoration of a huge catalog of films from Hollywood’s Golden Age. Twenty percent is going to fund classes and programs to help lower-income teens learn both basic life skills and skills that could lead to a job in the entertainment industry.

The final twenty percent will fund the creation of a charity that helps out-of-work actors and other film and television professionals in need of medical or housing assistance.

The theme, of course, was chosen by Matthew, a man I sometimes think of as the entertainment industry version of Damien. And who, at the moment, is across the room, greeting guests and shaking hands in a sea of stunning gowns and sharp tuxedos.

Behind him, scenes from various Vivien Lorainne movies play on screens set up throughout the ballroom. This event is all about that classic film star who was taken far too early in a violent death at her husband’s hands.

The murder shocked the Hollywood community so many years ago, as did Carlton Lorainne’s subsequent suicide in jail a few weeks later. Over and over, he’d claimed his innocence, fueling a Hollywood mystery that’s been debated for years. As far as the public knew, the couple was deeply in love. But as one biographer pointed out, murder is often a crime of passion. If Carlton believed Vivien was cheating on him…

As a fan, I’ve wondered about the truth for most of my life. But I also know that it’s impossible to ever know for sure.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Damien says, and I realize that I’ve stopped in the middle of the ballroom, my attention drawn to one of the many screens that line the walls, this one playing newsreel footage of her death.

“Just thinking about how sad it is,” I admit. “She was such a talent.”

“She was,” he says, then kisses my forehead. “Did you know she used to work in a soup kitchen? Even after she became a star, she would go every Saturday to help out. I think she would like knowing that the funds from this auction will do good.”

I smile, then squeeze his hand, forcing my melancholy aside so I can simply enjoy seeing the memorabilia and, perhaps, choose something to bid on myself.

We start across the room, where a cluster of posed mannequins shows off original costumes from her films, and display tables let the guests get a closer look at the queen’s crown and the assassin’s knife from one of her most beloved thrillers. It’s impossible not to feel the weight of history in the room, as if every artifact and image carries the essence of a bygone era.

“Nikki. Damien.” Matthew smiles as he catches up to us, taking my hand and raising it for an elegant kiss. “I’m so glad you were able to come.”

I’ve known Matthew for a while now, and he reminds me a bit of Damien. Devilish good looks and the kind of presence that commands a room. A form of gravitas that comes from not only being in control, but knowing that you deserve to be.

“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Damien says. “It’s an excellent cause.”

“Will you be bidding on anything?” he asks with a glance toward me.

“I’m sure we will, though I don’t know what. We’re still working our way toward the auction tables.”

“Well, even if you don’t find something you want, feel free to bid the price up,” Matthew winks. “It’s all for a good cause.”

Damien chuckles. “We’ll take that under advisement. In fact, we’ll go take a look right now.”

We congratulate him again on the spectacular event he’s put together, then continue toward the cases filled with the items that will be up for auction within the hour.

When we’re just a few feet from the first case, Damien tugs me to one side. “Did you notice?” he whispers.

I shake my head, not sure what he means.

“So many eyes on you as we crossed the room.” His voice, low and full of heat, is as enticing as a caress. “Women who want to be you. Men who want to own you. To touch your skin. To kiss your breasts. To cup your ass in their palms. To slide a hand through the slit in your skirt and explore your heat. To feel your desire.”

“Damien…” My cheeks are burning, both with the fear that someone might overhear and in response to his words. A hard, visceral response that makes me want to blow off the auction and hurry upstairs to our suite. “Hush.”

But he only steps closer, one hand at my waist as he leans in, his breath on my ear as he says, “But I’m the one who’ll have you in my bed tonight. Only me. Say it, Nikki.”

“Only you,” I whisper. I turn my head, leaning back enough so that I can meet his eyes. “It’s only ever been you.”

The smile that touches the corners of his mouth is so full of heat and joy that it takes my breath away. Even with three kids and so many years behind us, he can still make my heart flutter the way it did when I first saw him, this man who is the love I never expected and never thought I deserved.

“Thank you,” I whisper, then kiss his cheek.

He cocks his head, his eyes narrowing just a bit. “For what?”