"I will keep all your secrets, love." Dominic covered the woman's delicate fingers, holding her hand firmly against his chest. "Though I strongly caution you against deceiving me."
She gazed up at him through dark, feathery lashes and bit her lower lip, likely to buy more time to invent her excuse. The woman was no louse in the fine art of seduction, and she was clearly up to no good.
But what kind of no good, Dominic could only speculate. Robbery was top of mind, but if that were the case, she had very few options for hiding her treasure, that little hot dress was definitely not made for smuggling.
"I have reason to believe the family is on the verge of bankruptcy," she finally said. "I heard they might consider offers for pieces not officially on the block."
Dominic laughed. "Considering what I paid for that painting, it is likely they are back in the black."
"Three million dollars? Doubtful. That's a drop in the bucket for these people."
"These people?" He raised an eyebrow, gaze sweeping up from her designer shoes to the tasteful but nevertheless authentic diamonds studding her earlobes. The woman even smelled rich, a combination of scents so firmly embedded in his mind it would follow him through eternity.
Who did she think she was fooling?
"I just meant…" She closed her mouth and pulled away from his grasp, doing her best to mask her irritation. When she spoke again, her voice had softened considerably. "It is a terrible situation. They have a lot of debt. The penthouse is in foreclosure. They are actually moving overseas."
Trading gossip about other people's misfortunes was beneath him, but he suspected her theory was true. He had been gouged on the painting, but they would have settled for a lot less if she and Ducane had not run up the bidding.
"I fail to see what their financial situation has to do with your sneaking around."
"It has everything to do with it," she snapped, her cheeks blushing with frustration and more than a little arousal. "But nothing to do with you. So, if you don't mind, please show yourself out."
"You expect me to turn my back on a potential crime in progress?"
"I expect you to… Look, I totally appreciate the earlier save. Who knows what that creep would have done if you had not ridden in on your white horse? And thanks for the drinks, and the fun conversation, and…" She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, shaking her head as if she were having an argument with her own mind.
Dominic was not sure who won, but when she looked at him again, her eyes blazed with fresh anger.
"But seriously," she said. "It doesn't concern you."
"I see." Dominic offered a wry smile. Trouble or not, her feistiness turned him on beyond reason. The attitude, the taser, the spark of disobedience in her eyes…
You need to be tied up and spanked, little prowler.
Blood and power hummed through his veins, the image of his handprint on her bare flesh igniting a different sort of hunger inside. This long into an immortal life, there were few things Dominic still enjoyed. The company of a beautiful woman was, on occasion, one of them.
But nothing – nothing – made him harder than a woman with fire. A woman who could hold her own, even as she begged to be dominated.
Soon enough, he would have her doing both. He took a step toward her, the soft thud of her pulse an erotic drumbeat that damn near hypnotized him.
For a moment, her anger faded, and she held his gaze in silence, tension crackling between them, her breath shallow, mouth slightly parted.
She bit her bottom lip again, and he stared eagerly, already imagining the sweet taste of her kiss, the dangerous tease of her blood as his fangs grazed the plump flesh…
"The painting," she said suddenly, breaking the trance. She turned toward the fireplace, gesturing at the art displayed over the mantle. "Heinrich von Hausen's Adrift. One of his lesser – known works, but still a masterpiece by any measure."
"You will have to try harder than that," he said. "You have already impressed me with your knowledge of art."
"I am not trying to impress you. I am trying to tell you that this painting is one of my favorites. My father took me to see it at the Smithsonian when I was a kid. How it ended up here, I can only imagine. But as soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to ask the owners about it. Maybe arrange for a private bid, or… I don't know. Something."
An echo of sadness lingered in her voice, as raw and authentic as the painting itself, chased by a wave of the same darkness he'd seen earlier, rising anew in her eyes.
If he had met her a hundred years ago – fifty, even – maybe he would have asked her about it. Offered comfort. Promises. Hell, maybe he would have marched right back into the auction room, tracked down the host, and bought the damn painting for her on the spot, just to make her smile.
But these days, there was no room in his heart for sentimentality.
Only hunger. Only desire.
In a flash, he closed the last of the distance between them, forcing her to take a step back, then another. Her shoulders hit the door of a small closet, and she dropped her purse and gasped, looking up at him with a mix of fear and lust, a combination that all but sealed her fate.
"Touching story." He trailed a finger across her exposed collarbone. Not far below, the curve of her breasts peaked out over the top of her dress, full and inviting.
It was another of her many contradictions, hot and hard on the inside, soft and elegant on the outside, and Dominic could not wait to make her unravel. To expose every last one of her secrets, mind, body, and soul. "Forgive me if I don't quite buy it."
"What… what are you doing?" she whispered, heart fluttering like a hummingbird, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with every frightened breath.
But the scent of her desire did not lie.
Dominic reached up and cupped her face, dragging his thumb across those plump lips, already imagining what they would feel like wrapped around his cock. What she would look like on her knees, wrists bound behind her back, begging him for it.
But when it came to pleasure, he was a master of… Well, some might call it patience. He preferred a more accurate description.
Restraint.
It was an exquisite torture, the administration of which brought him as much pleasure as the ultimate surrender. As badly as he wanted to fuck her hot mouth, to unleash every bit of pent – up yearning her presence had stirred to life inside him, he was even more desperate to taste her.