Beck & Call by Emma Holly Read Free Book Online Page A

Mister R, the stage is yours.”
    As the curtain hissed upward, Mia realized Mister R was Jake. Management was protecting his privacy. A few last coughs disrupted the audience, after which quiet reigned.
    Jake put his hands behind Mia’s shoulder blades and gave them a gentle push.
    “Walk to the chair and wait,” he said, projecting sufficiently that she imagined everyone in the place could hear. “Slowly please. People will want to admire your excellent legs.”
    Crap. He meant walk onto the stage alone. Mia’s palms broke into a sweat. She dried them on the skirt of her snug red dress then hoped she hadn’t left a mark. Her supposedly excellent legs felt like stiff spaghetti in her tall shoes, ready to snap the moment she unlocked her knees. She’d practiced walking in the heels like Jake advised, but at the time she’d been by herself in her apartment.
    The idea of swinging her hips for watchers made her as uptight as trying to prevent them from moving.
    “Slower,” Jake said, still in the wings. “Don’t sit until I tell you to.”
    Her right knee buckled at his order, but she recovered without twisting her ankle. She assumed the little gasp that rippled through the crowd didn’t break the golden rule. The near miss sent heat flooding to her face. Luckily, the stage was small. She’d reached the aluminum seat. She wanted to sit but didn’t.
    “Stand behind the chair and grip its back,” Jake commanded.
    Mia gripped it for dear life.
    “Breathe,” Jake said, and this was an order too. “Slowly in, slowly out.”
    She tried to do it, but it was hard to calm. She’d never liked being the center of attention. Her comfort zone was in the background where people were less likely to notice her idiosyncrasies. Though she faced the packed audience, the footlights blinded her from seeing them. She wondered if Damien Call were watching in the dark. Did her anxiety excite him? Was he breathing faster in his James Bond at the casino clothes? Perhaps he felt an increase in pressure from his cock prodding his zipper.
    These ideas came out of nowhere to arouse her. Or maybe not nowhere . She and Jake were here for Call. He was the only observer whose opinion signified.
    She could tell herself the roomful of other strangers didn’t exist.
    She wished telling herself would convince her. Every person she’d glimpsed in Audition—every diner, every waiter, every gyrating dancer—flashed into her retentive mind. Immediately, she longed to tug at her hem. This dress was so short. Were people thinking her thighs were fat? How long was Jake going to take before he joined her?
    She turned her head toward where she thought he was and jerked in surprise. Jake was right beside her. He’d crossed the stage silently. Relief flooded her at his nearness. She was safe now. He was with her. Her gratitude was so potent it startled her.
    She had a sneaking suspicion this was the reaction he’d meant to cause.
    If it were, he didn’t give the game away. He shook his head in mild disapproval, his deep blue eyes gleaming. “I see I need to teach you no one exists for you but me. I am the only master you need to please.”
    She swallowed, unable to look away from him.
    “Better,” he said in his raspy voice, “but I think you need more focus.”
    He had something in his hand. He’d been holding it by his trouser leg, and she hadn’t seen. Now she recognized a short whip, the same as silhouetted Audition’s poker chip, the same she’d seen jockeys use in horse races. About thirty inches long, the riding crop had a rigid handle, a flexible whipping part wrapped in leather, and a narrow slapper bit at the tip—probably to prevent breaking the horse’s skin.
    As Jake drew his martial arts hardened fingers along its length, Mia’s fascinated gaze followed every millimeter of their progress.
    “This is your focus aid,” he purred. “You’ll grow to like it, I think. It should pinpoint your perceptions perfectly.”
    A sound