The Magician's Lover

by Danielle Austen

Genres: Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

Shy receptionist Lindsey Wade can't believe her luck when a chance encounter with world-famous stage magician Angelito Tarrago leads to an affair. But when he tries to convince her that he possesses genuine supernatural powers - and she might too - her life changes for ever. Pulled between her safe, comfortable life and the glamorous, erotic world of magic, Lindsey delves deeper; uncovering a secret society, long-buried lies, and sides to herself that she didn't know existed. Is her lover telling the truth? Could she really be the subject of an ancient prophecy? And who is the mysterious man following her around? Book One in The Prophecy Girl Trilogy with mixed themes including paranormal, fantasy, mystery and suspense, m/f, f/f, menage and sex in public.

Release date: December 13, 2012

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 206

Sample

Chapter One

‘This is the girl.’

Angelito looked at the photograph. He was surprised. He hadn’t expected her to look like that. ‘You are sure?’

‘I’m certain. She’ll be there tonight. Don’t screw this up, Angelito. You know how important she is.’

Angelito nodded once, and left the room.



‘And the winning ticket is … Number 42!’

Lindsey checked her ticket. ‘Damn it,’ she muttered. She sheepishly raised her hand and stood up, trying to avoid eye contact with the people staring at her. Mr Carlyle looked her way and smiled, throwing his hands wide apart and proclaiming, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of our first prize, a ticket to see the sold-out Angelito Tarrago show tonight, Lindsey Wade!’

There was a quiet ripple of polite applause as Lindsey nervously shuffled her way from the back of the room to the front, keeping her head down, her dark blonde hair falling into her face as she walked. She suddenly felt very conscious that she wasn’t wearing any make-up, and felt judgmental eyes on her baggy black trousers and her high-necked dull beige sweater. She had only entered the raffle because it was a charity event; her workmates would have guilt-tripped her endlessly if she hadn’t taken part. And now she had won the first prize: one ticket to a magic show. She didn’t even like magic shows. And she didn’t like the man she was now shaking hands with for a photograph.

Lindsey had been working for John Carlyle for the past two years, and it had taken considerably less time than that for her to see the smug old lech who hid beneath the sharp suits. But he was her boss, so she shook his hand, smiled awkwardly for the photo, accepted a kiss on the cheek and walked back to her desk at reception, her face flushed with embarrassment.

She sat down and took a quick sip of water to calm her nerves. Almost on cue, her friend, Cammie, walked over to her with a devilish grin fixed on her full lips, her big brown eyes glimmering with a hint of naughtiness. Lindsey briefly perused Cammie’s outfit and, as usual, was left feeling vastly inferior. Her long, perfectly straightened dark brown hair fell beyond her shoulders onto an outfit that made her look more like a secretary from the 1950s than a modern paralegal: a white shirt with thin vertical grey stripes that disguised her small breasts, the short cut of the sleeves revealing her thin, lightly tanned arms; paired with a figure-hugging pencil skirt that showed off the curvy arse she always insisted on drawing attention to.

‘Look at you, off to see the world-famous Angelito Tarrago!’ Cammie said as she perched on the edge of Lindsey’s desk. She had fun with the pronunciation, rolling the “r” of the Spaniard’s name and making exaggerated gestures with her hands.

Lindsey snorted, staring down at nothing in particular. ‘Do you want to go instead?’

‘I’d love to, but I’m seeing Jason tonight.’

Lindsey had only met Jason a few times, and their conversations had always been very superficial. He seemed nice, though, if a little shallow. She thought that he seemed like a good fit for Cammie; probably a better choice of partner than Cammie realised. Lindsey jumped at the chance to send the conversation away from herself and asked, ‘How’s it going with him anyway?’

‘It’s going good,’ Cammie replied with an accentuated slowness. ‘I don’t think it’s really going anywhere, but he treats me well and he’s incredibly hot and we have great sex, so I can’t really complain!’

Lindsey couldn’t help but wince. Cammie was often this brutally honest about sex when she spoke to her female friends, and although Lindsey had known her long enough to become accustomed to hearing about it, she still couldn’t understand the need to talk about something so private.

‘In fact, tonight,’ continued Cammie, ‘I’m going to surprise him and –’ her voice dropped to a little more than a whisper ‘ –indulge one of his fantasies. He told me he’s always wanted to try bondage, so I’m leaving my door unlocked, putting something sexy on, and tying myself up. Then I’ll just wait for him to come over.’ She grinned, almost as if she expected Lindsey would suddenly change her entire personality and start giggling with her.

‘You’re leaving your door unlocked? What if some stranger just walks in?’

‘Then I guess he’ll fuck me instead,’ she quipped, while Lindsey tried not to be offended by Cammie’s throwaway use of that word. ‘But anyway, this isn’t about me. You need to be going to that show tonight. You won it, you deserve to go!’

‘You expect me to go on my own?’

‘Sure, why not? It’s a magic show, not a nightclub. Just sit down and be entertained. You could do with some fun.’ Cammie affectionately touched Lindsey’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort, but Lindsey instinctively drew away, instantly regretting the motion. She liked Cammie; she didn’t want to offend her. She just wasn’t comfortable with personal conversations like this.

‘How long has it been now? Since … Since Eddie, I mean,’ Cammie continued.

Lindsey paused, took a deep breath, and then replied, ‘Three months.’

Cammie took a moment and gently asked, ‘So don’t you think you deserve some fun?’

‘When I think of having fun, the first thing that springs to mind isn’t a magic show,’ Lindsey replied in a too-serious tone.

Cammie chuckled. ‘Seriously Linds, you’ll enjoy it more than you think. Angelito Tarrago is incredible; don’t pretend like you didn’t watch that stunt he did on TV last year with the Sphinx. You’ll have a great time. Even if you don’t, it’s only a couple of hours wasted. And it’s not like you have to pay for it.’ She leant in and stroked Lindsey’s arm and this time Lindsey forced herself to remain still. Her hair dangled in her face, hiding the deep green eyes that shone with a hint of sadness.



John Carlyle sat at his desk, watching this exchange through the tall panes of glass that surrounded his private office. In the 20 years since he and his associate Benjamin Boone had founded the company, he’d had his pick of all the naïve young girls looking to further their careers in law. He was well aware that he had a reputation for being a dirty old man, but he had no objections to it; he knew that reputation was well founded. But for all his best efforts, no matter how much he’d plied her with alcohol at Christmas parties, he’d never got anywhere with Cammie. And still she had the nerve to dress like that.

His lips curled into a snarl as he thought of what he could do to her, given the opportunity. Those plump, juicy lips … He exhaled hard as he unzipped himself under his expensive mahogany desk, his eyes locked on the movement of Cammie’s beautiful mouth as she spoke to the boring one on reception. He wrapped the fingers of one hand tightly around his swelling cock and stroked himself, picturing Cammie on her knees in front of him.

‘Fucking dirty slut,’ he grumbled under his breath, visualising himself holding her head perfectly still – two hands firmly gripping the back of her skull as he penetrated those big, soft, glossy lips. Her eyes would stare up at him innocently, beginning to water as he pumped in and out of her unmoving mouth, the tip slamming hard into the back of her throat. All would be silent but for muffled grunts as she struggled to get a breath into her lungs.

‘One day I’ll have you,’ he groaned aloud as his grip tightened, his clenched fist pumping harder and faster, his eyes fixed on the subtle movements of Cammie’s lips.



‘Besides, he’s sexy as hell.’ Cammie grinned. ‘You should go. You really should. A lot of people would kill for that ticket.’

‘Well, I don’t know about the killing, but I guess you’re right,’ Lindsey muttered, ‘but what should –’

Cammie took this as a sign that she had won this debate; she smiled her brilliant smile and interrupted Lindsey. ‘I’ve got to be home and ready for Jason by eight, but I’ve got enough time to drive you home and help you pick an outfit.’ She turned and started to walk off, her peachy arse wiggling. ‘Pick you up from your desk at five!’

Only three hours after she’d finished work, Lindsey stood nervously in a bustling queue outside the theatre. It was cold and dark – November had firmly set in. Acutely aware of how uncomfortable she felt, Lindsey realised this was the first time in three months that she had left the house in the evening.

Keeping her eyes directed at her feet, she half-walked, half-stumbled through the inside of the dimly lit theatre in simple black high heels teamed with figure-hugging designer jeans and a light blue top that showed a little more cleavage than she felt comfortable with. She wore the same make-up she always used to wear on a night out: a little mascara on her sweet eyes combined with a subtle pink lipstick. The entire outfit was comprised of things she hadn’t worn in months, and that knowledge made her feel on edge and out of place. She wasn’t that woman any more. Unfortunately, Cammie was persistent.

She turned her head left to right and back again as she struggled to find her seat. E4, E5, D4, D5, C4, C5 … C6. Lindsey cursed to herself as she realised she would be sitting only three rows from the front in the centre block of seats, with only one empty seat between her and the aisle. The theatre was large and ostentatious, with plush, comfortable red seats and a huge stone arch around the stage area. Her heart fell heavy with shame as she glanced around and realised that she was the only person in the vicinity who was there alone. Everywhere she looked, couples chatted with their arms around each other, and groups of women giggled with the anticipation of seeing a world-famous entertainer.

A mere five minutes had passed before Lindsey’s already weak confidence took another pounding as she felt someone sit down in the empty seat to the left of her. She meekly glanced to see who it was, praying it would be some dowdy grandmother or a kindly nun. No such luck. She couldn’t help but take a sharp intake of breath at the sight – a tall man, probably a little older than her, with floppy dark hair that swept into his eyes. He was wearing black jeans with a casual white shirt. She could tell just from a brief glance at the fit of his clothes that he had the type of slender, toned body Cammie would go crazy for. She briefly wondered if it were the type of body she would go crazy for herself, and she gazed unhappily down at her feet as she realised that she didn’t know any more.

As the man sat down, something like a spark tore through Lindsey, beginning somewhere in her midriff and heading off in two directions simultaneously. All at once her head felt woozy and her eyelids became heavy; a shiver danced all the way over her arms to the tips of her fingers; and her thighs instinctively clenched tightly against each other as a wet tingle erupted in her sex. Not knowing why, and certainly not being the type of person to do such a thing, she quite deliberately turned her head to the stranger and smiled.

He didn’t need to turn; he was already looking at her with a curious look in his mesmerising eyes. He had an odd face, somewhere in between man and boy; youthful good looks contrasting with the world-weary, jaded expression of an older, more cynical man. He had a day or two’s worth of dark stubble around the sharp definition of his jaw line, and his intangibly bright green eyes seemed to almost sing to her. Lindsey was convinced that, just for the briefest of moments, she caught a flicker of yellow in those eyes, but then dismissed the observation as a trick of the light.

She attempted to say “Hi” but no words came out; instead her lips parted a fraction and some breath quietly slipped her body.

The lights in the theatre suddenly went out altogether and a booming, over-the-top voice exploded from the speakers.

‘Ladies and gentlemen … What you are about to witness is the result of decades of training. Secrets of magicians past, handed down from generation to generation. He has dined with kings, performed miracles, and created some of the most incredible feats you will ever set eyes on. The number one magician in the world … Angelito Tarrago!’

Despite the cheesy intro the theatre erupted into thunderous applause; some people were even standing as intense bright lights shone back and forth over the hundreds upon hundreds of people in the audience. Lindsey felt like she had never seen lights so bright.

As suddenly as they had started, the house lights abruptly shut off.

Seconds passed, the applause dying down to quiet, confused muttering.

A blood-red spotlight flicked on, illuminating a small circle of the stage, moving as it followed the imposing figure striding across the wooden floor. Dead silence filled the whole venue. Not even a breath could be heard in that huge space; only the slow, rhythmic knock-knock-knock of shoes on theatre stage.

The man was tall already, easily breaking the six-foot mark, but the stage made him appear even taller. He looked amazing; Lindsey found herself uncontrollably drawn to him even though he was roughly twice her age, and didn’t look anything like any of her previous boyfriends or crushes. She’d seen him on TV before and hadn’t batted an eyelid, but in the flesh he was something else. His torso was broad, accentuated by a thin black shirt with the top two buttons unfastened, revealing the olive skin beneath. His jet-black hair was long yet masculine, and would probably be past his shoulders if it weren’t scraped back and tied. He had a clean-shaved face, with a chiselled, angular jaw, and a commanding Roman nose beneath his piercing, ice-blue eyes. It took Lindsey almost a minute before she realised she hadn’t been breathing and she desperately needed to blink.

Angelito was utterly mesmerising. He performed his first illusion without a word, somehow turning a clear plastic telephone sitting on a small table into a shower of bubbles that floated away toward the ceiling, the trick garnering rapturous applause from the audience.

When the magician did speak, he did so loudly and confidently with frequent pauses in his sentences. The ears of everyone in the room were at his mercy. No one coughed, sneezed, or stirred in their seats; they simply sat, hanging on his every word. He spoke with a strong Spanish lilt in his deep voice.

‘Ladies and gentlemen … Please welcome to the stage my beautiful assistant – Teagan.’

The room burst into more clapping as Teagan walked briskly onto the stage with her head held high and an immaculate white smile on her face. Lindsey recognised her as the girl on the posters plastered all over London, and she didn’t need to hear the girl speak to establish that Angelito must have hired her in California. Normally the sight of a girl like this would have made Lindsey cower inside herself but, for some reason, on this night she just wasn’t bothered.

Teagan was like a men’s magazine fantasy woman made flesh. Blue-eyed and tall, with long, wavy platinum blonde hair. A toned, almost skinny figure, with golden skin and tight abdominals. Her disproportionately large, rounded breasts were encased in a skin-tight black top that showed off as much as possible for a family show. It was cut low at the top, exposing more than half of her chest, the lower end of the garment cutting off immediately below the bottom curve of her breasts. As if to make the costume more socially acceptable, it had one long sleeve for her right arm, the other arm left bare, and a delicate silver trim that followed the cuts of the fabric. A matching skirt that barely covered her rear showed off her long, thin legs; the look then completed with a pair of high stiletto heels. The expensive mass of diamonds on her neck and her bare wrist sparkled constantly under the stage lights. She couldn’t have been much older than 19 – a classic slice of American pie. Lindsey registered noise as the men in the audience shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.



As time passed and the show progressed, Lindsey found herself gradually losing all peripheral vision until only the stage remained. Her other senses then seemed to dull and lose focus, though there was always the constant tingle just below her belly and the pleasant fogginess in her head. Her concept of time was the last to go – she couldn’t tell if she’d been watching for 20 minutes or a couple of hours.

Incredible magic trick followed incredible magic trick. Teagan was transformed into a living, breathing tiger in what seemed like a second, and back again in seemingly less time than that. Angelito walked through a solid full-length mirror and came out the other side wearing completely different clothes. A helicopter, complete with pilot, appeared on-stage from nowhere. Three times, a large troupe of female dancers in skimpy, flamboyant costumes entertained the crowd as a diversion, their gyrating hips, toned stomachs and colourful headdresses drawing all eyes to them while black-clad stagehands, almost invisible against the black backdrop, prepared the stage for the next illusion.

Throughout the whole performance, Lindsey sat mesmerised. She didn’t know whether it was the lights, the sound, the atmosphere, or just simply being out of her house for once, but she felt like she was on a different planet. Her hang-ups had all but disappeared; she hadn’t retreated into herself once since the show had started. She didn’t even become laden with nerves when Teagan appeared next to her and offered her hand, standing in the aisle right next to the empty seat at Lindsey’s side.

A thought crossed Lindsey’s mind. Wasn’t there a man sitting there before? She willingly, sleepily took the assistant’s hand and was led the short distance from her seat to the vast stage. On the ascent up the stage steps she grinned to herself, uncharacteristically amused by how different her last walk through a crowd had been, less than 12 hours earlier.

Between the dreamy, almost trance-like state she was in and the stage lights that beamed directly onto her from somewhere way above, she couldn’t make out a single face in the crowd. They were just a sea of murmuring shapes. The magician spoke to them of the trick he was about to perform, as stagehands brought out a metal structure built like a vertical bed, a support behind it keeping the contraption upright. Three long leather belts hung from the left hand side of the bed at varying heights, with clasps and padlocks matching their heights on the right-hand side. Teagan walked in front of the structure, her face beaming, her well-rehearsed movements proving her experience in the field. She then blindly took two steps backwards, pressing her back against the steel, as Angelito walked to Lindsey with a microphone in his hand. He casually put his arm around her shoulder and spoke to her, though his eyes were on the audience.

‘My dear, please, what is your name?’

Lindsey leant forward some; she put her lips a little too close to the microphone and quietly said, ‘Lindsey Wade.’

‘Hello, Lindsey Wade. This is my closing act for the evening, and I need your help. What I need you to do is tie up my assistant.’

Some excited giggles from the crowd followed that statement, along with a small round of applause. Angelito turned to them, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. As a second burst of laughter made Lindsey’s cheeks go red, Angelito looked her in the eye, his expression friendly, gesturing to her that he wasn’t joking about her role in this performance. She stood transfixed for a second, unable to tear herself away from the piercing blue eyes that seemed to look directly into her soul. Then, remembering she was on a stage and hundreds of people were watching her, she made an effort to pull herself together, turning around and clumsily beginning to pull the straps across the American beauty.

She started to seal the top strap, which ran underneath Teagan’s shoulders, seemingly perfectly placed so as not to cover up any of her cleavage. The assistant, unencumbered with a microphone, quietly muttered “Tighter” in Lindsey’s ear. Lindsey couldn’t look her in the eyes – it was a strange, uncomfortable situation to be in. She was standing far too close to a younger girl who wasn’t wearing nearly enough and whose literally unbelievable good looks made her nervous, and to top it all off she was doing this in front of a very, very large crowd. But given her present circumstances she had no choice but to oblige, so she pulled the strap tighter before fastening it and closing the padlock.

Over two almost silent minutes that seemed like an agonising fifteen, Lindsey attached the remaining two ties; one ran across the middle of Teagan’s firm stomach, each side of the strap also serving to restrain her arms. The third and final strap pinned her legs down at the ankles. The magician moved over and, after slowly turning left and right with his arms outstretched, showing the entire crowd what was in his hands, added a final touch to Teagan’s predicament: a thick, black blindfold, presumably to prevent her from being able to see the locks. . .