Chapter 1 — SUNDAY — Dubai Fashion Show
Jack Palmer stood on the mezzanine, high above the stage, watching Roxanne stride sexily across the catwalk. He was away from the main hub of celebrities, but was still close enough to be able to savour his girlfriend as she strutted her stuff.
His girlfriend! Even after six months together, he was still in disbelief.
Roxanne Lopez had been a household name in fashion circles before they'd become an item. Since then, she had introduced him to a new, sexier, world full of late night parties and beautiful people. The trouble was, there were times he felt like a fish out of water.
He loved Roxie, but the differences in their lifeStiles had become clearer and clearer as time went on. Incompatible? He hoped not. But no matter how much he tried, he was never going to fit in with her 'celebrity' friends. They seemed to prioritise having a good time above everything else.
Nor did he care for the seedier side of the world Roxie inhabited. His years as a detective in the London Met's Vice Division had shown him the negative side of the fashion industry, and he was beginning to think that prostitution and drugs were the norm, not the exception.
Or was his judgment still clouded by the Dominic DeVere case? The fashion entrepreneur had been manipulating the political scene using laundered money that had been made from his illegal activities. Palmer and the team had eventually blown the case apart, but at what cost? Despite their success, the powers that be had decided to cover their own inadequacies.
After the shoot out with one of the most dangerous assassins in Europe, the Commissioner of the Met had been put under pressure by the current Government and Palmer—despite his heroic efforts—had been forced to resign and sign documents to confirm he'd never publicly discuss the case.
The only consolation was that he'd met Roxanne during the investigation. He'd saved her life, in fact, and they'd fallen in love. Once he'd been released from hospital they'd begun to build a new life together, but quickly realised they needed to find work again. He'd become a private investigator and Roxie had returned to the modelling industry she knew best.
He glanced back towards Roxanne as she reached the end of the catwalk. Her glossy red locks were dancing loosely around her tanned shoulders and she'd adopted that sexy model-pose that always made his cock lengthen—her shoulders back, breasts thrust forward and one hand on her hip.
The collective eyes of the audience were focused on her as she posed for a moment, before turning and returning the way she'd come. He couldn't help but smile in admiration. This beautiful woman with such a stunning figure and sparkling personality was all his. Perhaps he'd feel less nostalgic after they'd made love later? He usually did.
Making love to Roxie always made him feel better.
He took a sip of water as he watched her head off-stage, thankful for the air-conditioning. Outside, the desert heat was a blistering 105. He was told that was chilly for Dubai in the summer. But the ridiculously hot weather wasn't a factor where there was money to be made. The fashion-modelling world was even more about the money than it was about the sex.
The irony was that he'd spent his entire working career fighting that sort of sleazy world and now he was part of it.
*
Nikolay Volkov's Dubai office could best be described as masculine. The furniture was contemporary, mainly things made of black leather, but the desk that dominated the room was all dark wood and steel.
Right now, the Russian was putting it too good use. His immaculate trousers were around his ankles and his tailored shirt was bunched up at his waist, while the firm hand he'd placed in the middle of the woman's back held her bent forward over the desk top while he fucked her.
His personal secretary was a sophisticated woman with a body to die for, even if there wasn't much between her ears. She'd actually resisted his early advances for some time—she had been only recently married, after all, and would never dream of cheating on her husband.
Then he'd introduced her to the decadent lifestyle for which he was famed. She'd first succumbed after a party-cum-orgy in Monte Carlo and he'd fucked her again on his private yacht moored off the Bahamas. After that, she was his whenever he wanted. It had been worth the wait. Not only had she displayed a wild side he could never have imagined, she had shown herself to be an insatiable bitch.
"You like that, Angela?" he murmured, as he slowed his pace.
If he wasn't careful, he was going to blow. This amazing woman was so fucking tight.
"Ngh ... fuck ... yes," she gasped, her breath a harsh rasp.
Volkov grinned. Her upper class accent came through even when she was cursing. He imagined it would be how English royalty spoke when they were on the job. Perhaps he'd have a chance to find out one day?
His successful international Modelling Agency was an essential part of his vast business empire and he'd be using the week to promote it further. The Russian's achievements had been built on gradually expanding his activities world-wide, and the Dubai Fashion Show was a natural next step.
But it was so much more...
The surreptitious deal he was striking with Sheikh Amir bin Khalid would provide access to the key people across the region who could deliver the favours he needed. The amount of bribes needed were chicken feed compared to the potential rewards, but those inducements were all the more powerful when they were accompanied by an additional 'sweetener'.
That's where his girls came in. What man, however influential, could resist the opportunity to fuck a world famous model?
He smiled at the thought, and then glanced at his reflection in the mirror opposite his desk. It wasn't just models who proved to be great fucks. His secretary was every bit as uninhibited. For someone with such a posh accent, Angela could be such a slut.
It was such a sexy combination.
She caught him looking at their reflections in the mirror and smiled coyly. Her white blouse was unbuttoned and he'd yanked her pink bra above her pendulous tits. They bounced erotically with each of his thrusts. Her tight black skirt was rucked up to her hips, and her skimpy black thong stretching to its maximum around her ankles as she spread her legs even further for him.
With a growl of acknowledgement, he slid both hands under her hot body, cupping her ripe tits as she pumped that curvy ass back into his groin. There wasn't any doubt about it—she was getting to him now.
Would Roxanne Lopez be as good a fuck as this woman? He'd be finding out soon...
The redhead was the latest addition to his stable of models and her recruitment had been quite a coup. She'd been one of Europe's best known models before the situation with Dominic DeVere had unravelled and word had it that she had subsequently given up her modelling career.
Getting her onside had been an unexpected accomplishment.
Volkov knew that she'd been DeVere's number one girl, one who could be relied on when a particularly important client needed 'attention'. She might think those times were behind her, she was mistaken. Once he'd taken care of that ex-cop boyfriend of hers, he intended to use her the same way.
The first step would take place in less than an hour, when he would introduce her to the initiation ceremony he adopted with all his new models. Once she'd given him what he wanted, he'd have her heading down the slippery slope he loved so much...
