"In that case, we are counting drinks as our first." She wrapped her hand around his arm and leaned in close. "Let's hope you are a man of your word."
With her firm breasts pressed against him, it was all Dominic could do to keep his cock in check.
If I did not want that painting so badly, I would drag her into the nearest coat closet, tie her up, and…
"Come on," she urged, leading him into the auction room without another word.
Leading him. Dominic Wild. Like a damn puppy.
Bloody hell, how had she managed to turn the tables so quickly? In her captivating presence, Dominic was powerless to resist… a state that agitated him greatly. The last time he allowed a woman to get the upper hand, he had lost complete control, and a hundred and fifty people died in the aftermath, a Bloodnight Dominic was still paying for and not keen to repeat.
Despite the warning echoes of the past, there was something about her, a physical magnetism he could not ignore. She had intrigued him from the moment she stepped into the lobby downstairs, and every moment he spent in her presence drew him deeper.
Entranced. It was the only word for it.
Stupid was another one, perhaps, but he pushed that thought aside.
As they settled into adjacent seats, he rested his arm around the back of her chair, inhaling another breath of her intoxicating scent, wondering at her strange contradictions.
Despite her passion for art, her intelligence, the way her eyes danced with laughter, the darkness he had noticed downstairs was still lurking, roiling beneath the surface like a tempest she could barely contain.
What secrets are you harboring, love?
If she felt his intense gaze, she did not show it. The woman kept her eyes on the artwork at the front of the room, her jaw set, looking determined as hell.
He wondered what piece she was after today. Hopefully not Whitfield. If Dominic was going to have to battle with her, he would much rather have it unfold in his bedroom.
The very thought of her creamy flesh against his dark silk sheets made his cock stir, and he pulled his jacket closed to hide the evidence, affixing a polite smile to his face as the rest of the guests filed in.
Ducane strolled in dead last, taking a seat directly in front of them, acknowledging them both with a curt nod.
His woman stiffened, and Dominic moved closer, protective instincts kicking into overdrive. Despite her bravery, the relief in her eyes when he had barged into that bedroom… It was a look Dominic would not forget anytime soon.
Ducane was not the only vampire in attendance tonight, either. Two women from House Cornell sat a few rows away, and he had noticed a man from House Parker at the bar earlier.
He also counted two wolf shifters in the crowd, along with a witch from Darkmoon coven whose services he had occasionally employed.
The presence of supernatural at private human auctions was not unheard of, but it was unusual. Mostly, his kind preferred to avoid the company of humans in large groups, less chance of violence, less chance of discovery.
To see this many gathered at the same auction, so soon after his father's death, no less, left him uneasy at best. At worst? Well, Dominic preferred not to think about that, choosing instead to glare at the back of Ducane' head, imagining it popping right off his neck and rolling along the floor like a bloody bowling ball.
With everyone finally seated, the auctioneer got down to business, starting with a small but richly colored painting of a Parisian sidewalk scene, A Moment's Pause, the last known work of Johan Saccaro, Dominic did not recognize it.
"What do you think it is worth?" he whispered to his companion. "Fifty thousand?"
"Not even close." The woman leaned in, a conspiratorial grin lighting her face. "Can you keep a secret?"
"Of course."
"After Saccaro's death, his apprentice sold a dozen of his own paintings under his master's name. When he was finally caught, he admitted that A Moment's Pause was Saccaro's final painting, and its value skyrocketed. It was stolen from the Louvre in the thirties, returned in the forties, and stolen again in the fifties. After they recovered it the second time, it was sold to a private collector for three million dollars."
"No kidding?" Dominic was impressed by her knowledge. The bidding had already gone up to $80,000, and it was climbing steadily. "Think it'll go for six figures?"
"Probably. But here's the real secret, it is worthless."
"You said it was Saccaro's last…"
"This one is a fake. You can tell by the flat texture. Saccaro was known for mixing foreign matter into his paints, sand, glass, stones, even hair. The real Moment's Pause is hanging over a fireplace in Spain, still with the family who purchased it from the Louvre."
"Sold!" the auctioneer said. "Six hundred thousand dollars from bidder nine."
"Wow," Dominic said. "Poor bastard."
"You know what they say about suckers, right?"
Dominic grinned. "Bet bidder nine wishes he was sitting next to you."
"Bidder nine would not stand a chance with me. He probably doesn't bite until the fourth of fifth date." Heat flared in her eyes, sending another bolt of desire to his cock. But with a frightening realization, Dominic's blood went cold.
"The Whitfield painting," he said urgently. "Do you know it?"
"Of course. Are you interested?"
"I am if it is really the Whitfield."
"Oh, that one is totally authentic. I was relieved to see it, actually. For years it is been… unaccounted for." Her face clouded, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows, her heart rate spiking ever so slightly. It looked as though she had more to say on the matter, but when Dominic pressed, she waved it off.
"Now that's an interesting piece," she said instead, drawing his attention to an ancient alabaster bust that just went up for bid. "Also, authentic. It is King Darius the First, carved in the late period Egyptian style. Egypt was part of the Achaemenid Empire by then. The piece was probably commissioned by one of the king's local wives."
The auctioneer opened the bidding at $8,000. "Eight, to the gentleman in front. Do I hear eight five?"
"Nine," his woman called out. She was all business now, the playfulness gone from her voice. A third and fourth bidder entered the game, his woman keeping pace through a volley of bids. The price climbed to
$55,000 before she finally dropped out. In the end, it sold for $72,000 to the Darkmoon witch.
Dominic was not surprised. Witches often collected antiquities, using them to tap into ancient magic. And at the rates they charged for their services, they could certainly afford the bids.
"I am sorry, love. I hope you are not too disappointed."
"Nah. It is a great piece, but not a stellar example of late period Egyptian art by any means. Certainly not worth seventy grand."
"Someone disagrees with you."
"What did I tell you about suckers?"
"After all your talk of pretense," Dominic said, nudging her knee with his, "could it be you are an art snob?"
She pressed a hand to her chest, feigning offense.
"It is all right," he whispered. "I am a bit of an art snob too."
"You don't say?" She fingered the cuff of his suit jacket, stroking the fine Italian wool where not too long ago the evidence of his father's demise glowed white in the setting sun. "Here I thought you were the type to have a trophy room full of dead-animal heads."
"To be fair, the live ones are a bit harder to mount."
Her unabashed laughter attracted more than a few impatient glares, but Dominic could not get enough of it. She was even more beautiful when she laughed, her entire body glowed with it.
The curve of her bare shoulder glimmered, a temptation Dominic could no longer resist. With his arm still resting on the back of her chair, he reached out and risked a delicate caress. Her skin rippled with goosebumps, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her heart rate kicking up.
Dominic traced a soft path from her shoulder to her neck, fingers dancing over the pulse point near her throat. Beneath her satin-smooth skin, warm blood stirred at his touch, calling to that dark, ancient beast inside him, drawing his cock to painfully abrupt attention.
All this, from a mere shoulder and neck. He could only imagine what the rest of her body felt like, what it looked like under that dress, what it tasted like.