I sent everyone who reviewed a PM. Some of you didn't ask for a PM but I just decided to be presumptuous this first time around. I will keep sending them to those who have asked, but if you would like a PM the next time I update, and you haven't sated so already, please do so.
Thanks bunches!
Erin
Chapter 3
Sark had truly enjoyed his afternoon of shopping. As he stepped into the exclusive underwear boutique his intentions were to buy Sydney a little present that would make her temper, and his blood pressure soar. His knowledge of Amenson extended beyond what was disclosed in the briefing. It was rumored that Amenson had a bit of a voyeuristic streak, that he held a membership, and box seats for the most exclusive sex show club in Amsterdam. Intuition said that his home life could be very much the same, meaning Sydney would have to wear his little present, and pretend to enjoy it.
His smirk grew wider as he chose not just one ensemble, but a week’s worth of fancy undergarments, garter belts, stockings, and a few nightgowns which were no more than scraps of silk, satin, and lace designed to make a mans blood boil.
He sat in his Mercedes, watching Sydney’s surprise, and enjoying her temper as she read his card and snatched up the box.
“Yes, this will be an interesting trip,” he muttered to himself as he drove off.
Sydney put her hair brush down as the doorbell rang. She had been trying to delay this moment all morning, even so much as taking a few minutes to get to the door.
She caught her breath as she opened her front door, Sark was immaculately dressed, and in the process of fixing one of his shirt cuffs. Sydney took the moment to study his appearance without the interference of his piercing gaze. His eyes locked with hers as she opened the door fully, letting him into her apartment.
“Would you like me to turn so you can stare at the other side of me as well darling?” His signature smirk was already in place.
“No, darling,” Sydney said through her teeth. “I think I’ve seen more than enough.” The bit she had seen had been enough to make her short of breath, enough to raise her heart rate. His Armani suit was black, as always, black tie, long black overcoat, soft leather gloves. Every article of clothing, said money and elegance. Sydney grimaced. Her crème outfit was the perfect foil to his black. Her long crème coat and traveling suit would make them look like a matched pair, light and dark, his and hers. She took a moment to wish she had worn something ugly that would clash with his black, like a navy blue potato sack.
She lifted her coat off the couch and Sark reached for it.
Sydney allowed herself a smile as Sark helped her into her coat, and allowed herself a little shiver as he lifted her loose hair from under the collar. She slipped her hands into her pockets searching for her gloves, and came out with a small box.
“What’s this?” Sydney’s heart started to beat faster as she recognized the little teal box. “What came from Tiffany’s?”
“You didn’t honestly think I would let my wife wear some drab Government Issue diamond chip? Open it.” His gaze stayed on Sydney, waiting for her reaction to the ring. He had spent an hour going through the store trying to find something elegant, but exciting for her to wear.
Sydney gasped as she opened the box. Inside was a plain gold wedding band, and the most beautiful, and big diamond ring she had ever seen. Tears started to well up in her eyes as she looked at him. His eyes were a soft blue, almost kind as he looked at her. The ring was perfect, only he was the wrong man. He was a man who had sold his loyalties, who was for the highest bidder, and she would never consider bidding.
Sark felt his breath go short her eyes started to get damp. He gave himself a shake, stood up straight and took the box from her. He roughly grabbed her hand and removed the rings from the box. He slowly slid the rings onto her finger smiling slightly at the perfect fit.
“Sydney… come now, we have a plane to catch.” He leaned down and took two of her cases and walked to the car.
The ride to the airport was a silent one. Sydney kept her face to the window her fingers toying with her new wedding ring.
Sark tried to focus on the road and not on the woman next to him, but it was a losing battle. Her scent quickly filled his car. The same perfume she always wore, the same perfume that clung to his clothes after a mission, the same scent of Sydney that haunted him long after he had left the office for the evening. He shook himself and tried again to look at the road, but his eye kept drifting to her hands, to the rings, then back to the matching wedding band on his own.
He cracked his window, needing the cold air, hoping it would drown out the scent of the most bewitching woman he had ever met.
Sydney settled into her first class seat. “Well I may be going to hell, but at least I’m traveling in style,” she muttered to herself.
“Of course my wife would travel in style, to hell or anywhere else she wished to go.” She glared at him, as his smirk grew wider.
“If you don’t want someone to respond to your little sarcastic comments, you should most likely keep them to yourself.”
“Shhh… I, unlike you, have work to do.” Sydney took out her mission folder and started going over her new cover.
“Oh yes, such dreadfully taxing work, to pretend to be a happy young woman, just married to the man of her dreams, oh and you get to be dreadfully rich too. Sounds like such a hard job darling.” Sydney ignored him and started to read her folder.
Elizabeth Marie Sark.
26: Born in New Milford, CT
Parents: Deceased
James Hamilton: Banker/ Philanthropist
Michelle Hamilton: French émigré/ housewife
Met Andrew Thomas Sark at benefit for World Health Organization in Zurich. Whirlwind courtship followed. Married four months later.
Sydney carefully read the rest of the folder, testing the new name in her head, Elizabeth Sark, Mrs. Elizabeth Sark. Jesus. Sydney slid the folder back into her bag, cuddled up in the seat and tried to sleep.
The drive to the villa was relatively short, only 50 miles out of Paris. Sydney watched the scenery fly by, purposefully keeping her gaze to the countryside. She leaned back her chair a bit and let out a yawn.
“Tired Elizabeth?”
“No, boredom.”
“Come now darling, I’m sure that’s just your way of telling me you are anxious to be in bed.” He caught her eye and smirked at her. He fiddled with the gearshift as he eased through the light traffic.
Her bored glance turned into a glare. “You wish.”
“You have no idea what I wish for Sydney. And until you do, I think you should leave my wishes or lack thereof out of this conversation.” Sydney snapped her gaze back to him, finding his eyes cold, almost angry.
“My, my, aren’t we getting a little testy. Have trouble sleeping on the plane Andrew darling. Too much important manly work taking up your time?”
“As a matter of fact, no. I just couldn’t get comfortable with you draped across me for half the flight.” Sydney allowed herself a little smile, giving herself a point on the imaginary score board.
“Really, I thought the entire point of this conversation was that you wanted me draped across you.” Her smile grew wider as his glare got colder. Suddenly his smirk came back full force.
“Of course darling. Whatever you like.” His hand moved from the gearshift to her thigh.
Sydney was determined to ignore him. She had pushed, knowing he would do just about anything to one up her. “Damn it.” She muttered as his hand kept moving up her thigh.
“So, Elizabeth darling, do tell me, are you wearing my gift?” Sydney felt the car slow, as Sark’s hand moved higher, almost to the top of her thigh. Sydney began to smile. Two could play at that game.
“Of course I am darling.” She took his hand in hers and placed it back on the gearshift. “The ring.” Her smile became a grin when she saw him shift in his seat, the reason for his discomfort becoming rather obvious.
“Tease” His blue eyes were cold crystal, nearly angry.
“Yep”
He turned his full attention back to the road as he pulled though a pair of large iron gates, and around a circular drive. Sark stepped out of the car and around to open Sydney’s door. Sydney pressed herself against him fully as she stepped out of the car.
“Oh, Darling, I am wearing the panties.” Sydney barely had time to register the fiery look in his eyes before she was crushed against his body. Sark’s hand went to the small of her back, pushing her against him, letting her feel his arousal. Sydney made a small sound of surprise as Sarks mouth descended on hers.
Sark kissed her forcefully, passionately as he pressed her against the car, grinding himself into her… She let out a small moan and slid her hands under his coat and suit jacket… suddenly his hands were moving over her body. She dug nails into his shoulders, moving against him…
She made a small, disappointed sound when he started to pull away from her.
“Come now Elizabeth.” He said softly in her ear. Suddenly she was snapped back to reality. A heavy blush crept over her face as she followed Sark’s gaze to the open front door, and the two couples just outside of it.
“s***”
Chapter 4
Sydney tried to banish her blush as she moved toward the door. Her grip on Sark’s arm only got tighter as she took stock of the two couples standing in the doorway, The older man, and his wife, the Amensons she assumed, and the Vaughns. Sydney gave her hair a toss and forced a smile in place.
“Andrew, Elizabeth. Welcome to our home.” Mrs. Amenson stepped out to take Sydney’s hand in hers. “Come in, I’ll show you to your rooms so you can freshen up before dinner.” Sydney and Sark handed off their coats to the maid, and followed the two couples into the opulently decorated house.
“I’m Anna, and these two lovely people are Mark and Lana. Mark’s father went to Oxford with James. We’ll have quite a jolly little group for Christmas. They will be staying through the week as well. It is always lovely for us to have such attractive company.” Anna’s smile was large, perfectly painted, and seemed practiced; her hostess smile.
“Come, I’ll have Luca bring up your cases. I’m sure you two are rather anxious to be alone.” Sydney felt a blush creep across her face. Anna winked at Sydney, causing her blush to grow. The gazes of the rest of the group weighed heavily on her, specifically one gaze. Vaughn. Did he see the kiss? She took Sark’s offered arm, gave herself a shake and followed Anna to her room.
Now Mark and Lana, you’ll be staying in the Blue Room, just there on the right. Now Andrew, Elizabeth, you’ll have the guest suite. Its only fair considering James did interrupt your honeymoon. I do hope you find it to your satisfaction. If you four need anything don’t hesitate to ask. Dinner is in little over an hour.” Anna turned and
In The Blue Room:
Lauren shrugs out of her traveling dress, watching her husband sink onto the bed. Tossing the dress on the floor, she lets out an angry sigh.
“Michael you can stop glaring at me. We’re spending a week in France on the simplest mission ever created. Its not like you’re being tortured.” Vaughn slides off his suit jacket, and tie.
“Really?” he mumbled under his breath.
“That is IT! Are you going to mope all week, because honestly I don’t think its fair to punish me just because SHE is here.”
Vaughn angrily stood. “You know SHE has a name.”
“Oh yes, how could I forget, Saint Sydney.” Lauren moved close to Vaughn, reaching out for his arm. “But I’m your wife. I should be more than a consolation prize. I shouldn’t have to settle for a husband who is still in love with another woman.”
Vaughn stepped away, unable to meet her eyes.
“Especially when it seems that the other woman has moved on.” Lauren allowed herself a half smile, knowing she had hurt him as much as he had hurt her.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Vaughn grabbed her arm, turning her back to him.
“What I mean is that the kiss in the driveway was no act.” Lauren pulled her arm out of his grasp and moved toward the bathroom door.
“She wanted him Michael. If it had been in private, Sark could have had her anyway he pleased. He will have her, and from the looks of it, she will enjoy every second.” Lauren turned and slammed the door on her husband.
She didn’t see him turn away from her, his eyes full of pain. She didn’t see him sink onto the bed, and fighting back tears as his head fell into his hands.
In The Guest Suite:
Sark walked into the room, undressing as he crossed to the bed. “Sydney, have you taken a good look at the room?”
“Yeah, its pretty nice.” Sydney slipped off her shoes, and tried to stretch the long day of traveling from her body. Her stretches pushed her breasts against her shirt and he was entranced.
His hands stilled on his half untied tie. He allowed himself a slight smile as he stared at her, only moving as Sydney turned back to face him. Sark let out a sigh.
“Honestly woman, for being the best and brightest, you aren’t very bright. I assume that in your cursory check of the room you didn’t notice the video cameras.” Sydney spun to face him.
“Excuse me? Where?” Her eyes became wide, and started glancing around the room. He crossed the room to her and pulled her against his body. Holding Sydney to him, he whispered into her ear, turning her body so she could see the locations he was pointing out.
“One above the door,” Sark’s hand moved down to push Sydney against him. “One above the vanity mirror.” Sark paused and changed his grip on Sydney. He slid his hands under her ass, and tossed her onto the bed, crawling on with her. “One above the bed.” His smirk was firmly in place, as he moved his body closer to hers.
“So I have to spend a week in bed, on videotape with YOU?” Sydney felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest. A weeks worth of days spent on his arm smiling was bad enough. Now she had to face a weeks worth of nights in the same bed as him, doing much more than smiling. Sydney glared at him, making his smirk grow wider.
“Yes, my darling wife. A week in bed with me is not exactly a death sentence. I’ve never had any complaints about my performance, and judging from the way your past lovers hound you, you must be passable as well.” Sydney pushed herself up onto her elbow, and stared into his mocking blue eyes. He lifted a hand, and started to slide it over her hip.
Sydney felt her anger flare, he seemed to be able to incite anger in her with a single word or mocking smile. Sydney moved her hand back to land him the smack of his life, her eyes bright with anger. Sark laughed. Halfway through her swing, Sark caught her arm and used the moment to roll her onto her back.
His body moved over hers, trapping her legs between his. Sydney moved beneath him, trying to push him off of her, until he positioned himself directly on top of her, grabbing her wrists.
“If you wish to leave this bed in time for dinner, I suggest you stop struggling.” Sydney stilled under him, catching her breath. Feeling the evidence of his arousal nestled between her thighs. Sydney renewed her struggle.
“Get off...” She glared at him and spoke through her teeth. Sark silenced her by bringing his mouth down to hers. His hands let go of her wrists, moving to cradle her face, as she slowly started to respond to the kiss. Sark moaned into Sydney’s mouth as her legs parted, allowing him to settle between her thighs.
Sydney’s hands moved to the front of his shirt, never moving her mouth from his as she unbuttoned his black shirt. The dress shirt framed a section of pale, muscled chest that she could not resist the urge to taste. Sydney pushed at Sark’s shoulders, flipping him onto his back and positioning herself above him. Her back arched as his hands moved over her back, pulling her shirt over her head.
Sydney leaned down over Sark’s body, nibbling at his neck as he fumbled with her bra. Slowly she moved lower, her mouth running over his chest until she found his nipple. Wrapping her lips around it, she ran it between her teeth. Sark’s hands grew more urgent on her back, finally succeeding in removing her bra.
Sark’s hands moved over her breasts, teasing her nipples, drawing a moan from her mouth. Sydney’s hands grew impatient as she tore at his belt and zipper. She slipped a hand into his pants, finding him large and hard against her hand. She wrapped her hand around him, stroking…
“Sydney!” Her name was torn from his lips as she moved faster. “I won’t…”
The knock on the door interrupted his words. “Ignore it.” He rolled her onto her back, latching his mouth onto her breast, making her moan as he teased her nipple. The knock sounded again, this time followed by a female voice.
“Elizabeth, Andrew, Dinner!” Sark lifted himself off of Sydney, vowing to kill that woman should the chance ever present itself.
“Get dressed Sydney, we’re late.” He had changed back into Mr. Sark, spy extraordinaire, in mere seconds.
Sydney felt the blush creep over her. She had been ready to sleep with him, Sark, of all people. She tugged down her top and climbed off the bed with as much dignity as she could muster.
“How do you do that?” Sydney’s voice was strained, annoyed.
“Do what Sydney?”
“Just suddenly snap back into, well you. One minute you were on the bed begging, and now its like it never happened.” Sydney turned her back on him as she shrugged out of her traveling clothes and into a black satin cocktail dress.
“I don’t beg Sydney, not for you, not for any woman.” He slipped out of his wrinkled shirt and into a crisp blue shirt, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he slowly did the buttons up.
“Damn.” Sydney cursed herself as she tried to inch the long zipper up the center of her back.
“Something wrong darling?” She could her the smirk in his voice, and she knew he had been watching her struggle with the dress. Sydney walked over to him and turned her back to him.
“Did you want something?”
“Zip me.”
“People with manners commonly use the word please.” He slid a finger up and down the sliver of exposed skin, feeling the tension in her muscles grow with every stroke.
“Please.” Her voice was strained and low, responding to his teasing.
“Please what Sydney?” his voice was low and close to her ear. Sydney let out a frustrated sigh that made Sark smile.
“Please, zip my dress.” It was a quiet grumble, but it made Sark laugh.
“Of course.” He whispered, his mouth only inches away from her ear. Sark slowly slid the zipper up her back as he took little bites of her neck. “All done.” His voice was husky in her ear.
Sydney stepped away from him as if she had been burned. She slid into her high heels and dashed out the door.
Sark allowed himself a smile as he watched Sydney Bristow, the woman who was afraid of nothing, flee the room as if the hounds of hell were at her heels.
Sydney ran a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself. She took a deep breath and tried to banish Sark from her thoughts. Instead, Sydney spent her solitary walk to the dining room remembering the feel of his hands on her body, and the way his kisses seemed to banish all rational thought. She tried to drive away her embarrassment at her hasty exit from the bedroom, finally convincing herself that she was not running from him, that it was merely a strategic retreat.
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