Mystery Romance 4-Book Bundle

Chapter One

Chapter OneJames Thomson chooses the perfect moment to bring up the book. The first pitcher of sangria is empty, and she is feeling just the right combination of light headed and buzzed, not drunk on the sangria, but relaxed and susceptible to things that might normally frighten her off. The dinner plates in front of them have been cleared with nothing left on the table except for the pitcher of sangria and a few rolls of biscuits in the basket between them, shimmering in the light of the unscented candles that are gradually blinding her.

A year ago, Gwen would think this was a date, but she knows better now. James is in a relationship. Lily has made it abundantly clear to her that Gwen is inferior to her in every way. She is taller, prettier, bustier, and richer. In fact, Gwen is living in an apartment complex owned by her uncle and she is fully capable of kicking Gwen to the curb if she so much as look at James in an inappropriate way. Short of peeing in a circle around James whenever Gwen comes around, she doesn't know what else the woman could do to make it clear that James is off limits.

So no, this is not a date. It's a business meeting. The fact that James chooses very picturesque locations to hold these meetings doesn't mean anything.

James, who must have been a storyteller in his past life, even gives his story a title of sorts. "Have I ever told you about my Uncle Louis's legacy?"

Gwen could not forget Uncle Louis even if someone had hit her over the head with a club and gave her a concussion. Her experience with him is unlike anyone she has ever met and she doubts she would meet anyone like him ever again. Though he calls the man 'uncle', he was really his father's childhood friend, an eccentric older gentleman she has only met once a few years ago, when he passed by in his journey to travel to every major city in the world until his money runs out. "It will take a while," she remember James saying. Uncle Louis is incredibly rich. He had taken a liking to Gwen straightaway and had wanted a private session with her, being a photographer himself. He asked if she has ever entertained the idea of having her feet worshipped, and she had thought mistakenly at the time, that it was merely a mistake in translation that had made him use the word. After all, Uncle Louis had spent the majority of his life in France. She thought he meant to ask if she had pictures of her feet taken before. They were talking about close up photographer, after all, and it matched with the discussion.

She hadn't and told him that she didn't have the right feet for it. James does not pick up many high-heel advertising for her to do because her feet are not the regular size, but Uncle Louis would hear nothing of it, calling her a beauty.

"Allow me to buy you a pair of red heels and photograph you in them," he said, "As a memento of our meeting."

She had turned to James, brow arched because she didn't know what to make of his strange uncle. She had never had someone offer to buy her shoes before and, like she confessed earlier, she hadn't had much experience with feet photography. She has a rather petite build and her feet are rather small. James had a glazed look on his face, but offered no advice. He does not protest either. She had never had anyone else take photographs of her before and she thought it would be an interesting experience, so she agreed.

The next day, she went to the boutique to pick up the heels. The shop he had selected was no ordinary place. It is one of those bespoke places with things that are made to order. She was wearing her regular clothes, a white t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. She did not think she would even be allowed in such a high end facility at first, but the man at the door had noticed her hesitation and opened the door for her.

"You must be Gwen," he said as if they are old friends. They would become friends later on. His name is Brian and he is in his late thirties. He owned the shop and Uncle Louis enjoys buying pieces for her that he commissions John to take pictures of. "You are as exquisite as Mr. Moreau said you are," he said, pulling out her gift from behind the countertop. It is a pair of five-inch leather ankle strap sandals with a lot of lace attached to the strap that needs to be done up.

"Sit," he said, beckoning her into the leather couch in front of a mirror. She turned to see her wide-eyed wonder in her reflection and hastily sank into the couch. She felt very out of place, taking off her twenty-dollar tennis shoes that she had bought on clearance and a pair of mismatched cartoon socks, but there is no judgement in Brian's eyes as he put the heels on her to test for sizing. His hands were very large and warm and he took a much longer time than she thought necessary to put the shoes on her.

She felt like a princess, like she was some sort of royalty being dressed up. He regaled her left foot with the same attention, making sure that the straps are not done up too tightly and teaching her how to get them on by herself.

"Though I suspect that would not be much of an issue. Mr. Moreau would be more than happy to put them on for you," he said with a cryptic smile that had her frowning.

"Exquisite," he said, a word that she would later learn to be one of his favorites. "I must admit, I have had these sandals for years. I made them on a whim and did not think it would be so difficult to find an owner for them. Alas, my clientele are mostly men who has interests in tall women. Taller women, larger shoes," he said all this in a rapid fire of words as he pulled her up into a standing position. She wobbled a little and clung to Brian in order to stop herself from falling. He chuckled and allowed her to lean on his arm for support.

When she gazed at her reflection, she found herself smiling because she had looked so incredibly odd, her t-shirt and jeans not matching the sandals at all, but the sandals themselves are, as Brian had so aptly put, exquisite. The lace wound up from her ankles to a little two inches above it, making her legs look longer than they are. The man had very kindly folded up the bottom of her jeans so that she was able to imagine on her own what she would look with appropriate attired.

Later, Brian took off the sandals and wrapped it up for her. He gave her his number before bidding her goodbye. "There are some outfits that have been languishing in the storage," he said. "I would be the luckiest man alive if you would come and model them for me. In exchange, I would let you keep the outfits."

She did not think it was a fair exchange. She would get to wear beautiful clothing and keep them? What's the catch?

"No catch," he reassured her. "I enjoy dressing beautiful women."

She had never thought herself particularly beautiful. She did not fit the societal beauty standards for beauty these days, no wide hips or large breasts. She thought she looks rather ordinary, but she wasn't going to turn down free clothes. She promised to get in touch with him.

When she returned to her apartment that afternoon, she lavished attention on her feet. She gave herself a pedicure and painted her toenails a striking red to match the shoes. She put them in the box and then made her way to James's studio. He had kindly offered the location for them to take the pictures in and she had not expected him to be there during the photoshoot, but he was.

She wore a red dress and a pair of thigh-high stockings, unsure if Uncle Louis would have her take off the stockings afterwards in order to capture the heels without them on. She has wondered why Uncle Louis would want her in the heels. Most pictures that she took with James were with the intention of having said pictures up on a catalogue, an advertisement for a product. If these sandals have been in the shop for years, then surely they must have discontinued production? Or were they made for someone else in mind and Uncle Louis was merely feeling sentimental?

As she entered the studio, she wondered what James was thinking since he was looking at her so intensely. Did he not approve of her taking up this project for his uncle? She thought they had a good relationship. After all, he had said to her before that it was his Uncle Louis who had inspired him to take up an interest in photography in the first place.

There was no reason for her to be wearing her red dress, but she thought it would be good to be wearing something that matches the sandals, even if the dress was bought on clearance as well.

Uncle Louis beamed when he saw her in the outfit. He is in his late forties, slightly graying at the temples, and he smelled like musk when he leaned into kiss her cheeks in greeting. He is what she imagines James to look like once he is older. He couldn't take his eyes off her or her sandals.

"Absolutely perfect," he said. "Where did you find such a goddess?" he teased his nephew. "You have been hiding her from the world."

James shrugged, but did not say a thing.

"Come, my goddess," he said and it took a moment for Gwen to realize that he was talking to her. "I want you to start by taking off those dreadful tights. Do it slowly. I want to take photographs," he said. "Come here, James. I will show you how to capture her best angles," he said.

It was incredibly awkward, undressing with the two men snapping pictures of her. She was wearing a pair of black lace panties underneath and was perfectly fine with James taking pictures of her barely wearing anything. After all, they had done several photoshoots for bikinis.

It felt even more intimate with two men in the same room and all the bright lights pointed directly at her face.

"Beautiful," Uncle Louis said, the camera clicking and clicking. She glanced at the camera as she took her tights completely off and Uncle Louis took a few pictures of her looking coyly at the camera as well.

She is nervous, but he gently guide her by the small of her back and sat her down on a chair.

"I'll put this on for you," he said, settling at her feet.

James continue to take pictures.

She had washed her feet meticulously prior to coming here and had worn a pair of sandals, but took great care to wash her feet again before the beginning of the photography session, knowing how important it is that not a speck of dust is on her skin. James was very good at editing away impurities, but it would be better if there was nothing for him to edit away in the first place.

She felt awkward at first, but then he began to massage her feet. His hands worked the bones with a rolling motion, paying individual attention to each toe. He stretched every joint and just when she thought she would melt, he raised her pinky toe to his mouth and sucked on it.

She gasped and yanked her feet back, shock jolting through her entire body. It was so unexpected that she did not know how to react at all.

"I'm sorry," Uncle Louis said, his cheeks reddening slightly at the look of horror on her face, though there is something else on her expression that made him grin. "Let us get the sandals on you, hmm?" he continued, reaching out to cradle her foot back in his hand as if he had not suckled her toe.

She turned to James, wondering if he had seen the same thing and was going to say something, but his face was unreadable behind the bulky lens of his camera and he remained mute.

Perhaps she had imagined the whole ordeal.

He did not put the sandals on her the same way Brian had yesterday. There is a theatrical performance to the way he did up the lace, the way his fingers lingered at her foot, and then when he was done, he brought her foot up to his lips and pressed a kiss there.

"Oh god," she said. He hadn't used the wrong word at all. He really meant to worship her feet.

"Beautiful," he said as she squirmed in her seat, heat and desire rolling in her gut, making it impossible to focus on anything beyond the way his fingers are touching her.