by Kitty Thomas
“I need to speak with you. Now,” Kane hissed.
Claire turned suddenly back to the intimidating artist. “I... uh... okay.”
Kane arched a brow. “Are we forgetting our manners, Claire?”
“S-Sir,” she stammered.
“Good girl.” He led her out of the gallery and to a glassed-in room that looked like a conservatory but which obviously served as an art studio. The room was spacious. Was this where he and Saskia painted?
“You must have amazing ventilation in here. I can't even smell the turpentine,” Claire blathered nervously.
“We don't use turps. We use a natural method utilizing linseed and walnut oils mostly. But you know I don't use them because I didn't use them when I painted you.”
“Oh, right,” Claire said, flustered.
He'd somehow backed her against one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Claire could feel the panic moving in. And then all at once, the flashback hit her. The smells and sounds of the basement. That drip, drip, drip of the leaky pipe in the corner that drew out the mice in the night when everything else was quiet.
“Please... please...” she begged, her arms going up defensively. She felt herself starting to hyperventilate, curling in on herself, shrinking to the ground, becoming very very small. Small enough to disappear if she squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated hard enough.
“Claire!”
She heard Kane's voice only distantly. She couldn't find her way back out. The only thing she could feel was the terror.
Then suddenly Kane wasn't there, it was the man in the basement. “No!” she shrieked, cringing from the man.
No... she looked again. It was Ari.
“What in the fuck did you do to her?” he demanded.
“I just wanted to talk. I didn't mean to trigger anything.”
Ari knelt in front of her now, stroking her cheek, then petting her hair, whispering soothing words to her. After several minutes, the worst of the panic receded. She could see she was in the art studio with Kane and Ari. She looked down at her hands, willing the tremors to stop. Someone left the room in a rush. She thought it was Kane.
A few minutes later he was back, handing something to Ari, then Ari was trying to get her to drink.
“It's just water, little one. Drink. It'll help you calm down.” He stroked her hair while she drank the water, then Claire shakily put the lid back on and handed the bottle back to Ari. He sat next to her and pulled her into his arms.
“Shhhh. Everything is okay. You're safe. I should take her home.” He said that last part to Kane.
“No! I don't want to go home,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
Claire nodded. Although she'd been nervous about what might happen here, she wanted to find out. It was the first time she'd been able to be out anywhere in years and feel safe. Until this moment, anyway.
Ari turned back to Kane. “Now tell me what the fuck you were doing?” he said, his voice a low growl.
“I needed to ask her something.”
“Then ask.”
Claire looked up at Kane. He seemed apologetic. He was obviously used to dealing with people who were less damaged—people who could take his intimidating presence without crumbling apart at his feet.
“I need to speak with her alone,” Kane said, his intense gaze never leaving hers.
“Over my dead body,” Ari said, still pissed off. “You remember how you felt when I tried to rescue Saskia out of that club and get her away from you? Multiply that by a hundred and you are close to understanding how I feel right now.”
“Master, please. It's not his fault I had a flashback. Anything could set one off under the right circumstances. Normal things. It was an innocent mistake.”
“Him backing you against the glass wasn't an innocent mistake. It was a clear intimidation tactic. Even without your history, he had no right to do that. You aren't his.”
“I thought we had a sort of timeshare arrangement,” Kane quipped.
“Shut up,” Ari gritted out.
Kane raised his hands in surrender.
Ari untangled himself from her and stood. He looked back and forth between Claire and Kane as though not trusting his instincts about leaving her alone with Kane a few minutes ago proved exactly why he shouldn't ignore them again in this moment.
“Will you be okay if I stand just outside the door?” Ari asked.
Claire nodded.
“Fine,” he finally said. He turned his full focus on Kane. “But if I get even the slightest hint that you're bullying her, this night is not going to end on good terms between us.”
“Understood,” Kane said. “But you have to know I would never hurt your girl.”
“Do I?” Ari challenged, his stare glacial.
“I would protect her just as you would Saskia. You know that. I got carried away. I pulled the scary dominant shit on her, forgetting she doesn't know me well enough for that. Okay?”
“You never pull the scary dominant shit on her. I don't care how well she knows you. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Ari nodded and left the room, but he clearly wasn't happy about it.
When they were alone again, Kane extended a hand and helped her off the floor. Then he took a few steps back to give her space.
“Well? Spill it. Why did you look at me like you'd seen a ghost when you saw me tonight? What do you know that you shouldn't know? More importantly, how in the fuck do you know it?”
Claire took a deep breath. “What if I tell you something you don't want to hear? What happens?”
“I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're asking. But I need to know.”
She sighed. “I know you're Joseph Quill.”
The resigned look on his face said he'd known that before the words had come out of her mouth. “And how do you know this?”
“Before... things happened... I wanted to work in art restoration. As part of my studies, I took a lot of art history classes as well as a survey on famous contemporary and recently deceased artists even though I wouldn't need to know that kind of thing specifically for what I wanted to do. It was interesting, and I was into everything about art except actually making it myself.
There was a heavy focus on your work. So I recognized it when I saw the painting you did of me. Though I wasn't a hundred percent sure you were him because I hadn't seen your work in so many years. At least I wasn't sure until I saw Ari's art collection tonight before we came here. He's got a Quill nude in his private gallery.”
Kane raised a brow. “He does? He never told me that. The last I checked all of the work was in the hands of private collectors unwilling part with them.”
“It's one of the earlier pieces. The only girl you were known to have painted multiple times.”
Kane laughed suddenly. “Motherfucker. I'd wondered where that painting got off to. There is only one piece of that girl in private hands. I was planning to steal it from the previous owner. I'd tried to buy it first, but they wouldn't sell. They must have decided to sell after all. I guess they chose another buyer. They probably didn't appreciate the way I'd talked to them.”
“I'm sure Ari would sell it to you if he knew how much it meant to you.”
Kane laughed again. “Right now he wouldn't sell me a pint of blood if I was bleeding out. But it doesn't matter. I'm happy for him to have it. I don't need it anymore. I've moved on.”
“Can I ask you something?” Claire asked.
“Sure.”
“Why did you fake your death? You didn't need to be dead to sell art for millions of dollars. You were well on your way, alive.”
Kane shook his head. “I didn't fake it. I was running a tech start-up, and I couldn't afford any scandals. The kind of art I do would have qualified as a scandal. My art was taking off at the same time as the startup. I wasn't sure which horse to bet on, so I bet on both. I got someone to pose as Joseph Quill for public appearances. He was the one who died in the crash. I'm m
ainly doing kinky art installations as Jacob Hunter now, but I still do my nudes for people I know I can trust. Though I still make them sign NDAs. You can't be too careful.”
It was one thing to know he was Quill. It was yet another for him to confirm it.
“I was a huge fan of your art,” she said quietly, feeling a bit starstruck even after everything.
“Was? Claire, you wound me.”
“Am,” she clarified. “I still can't believe Joseph Quill painted me.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, Saskia is a fan girl, too. And for the record, that girl in the painting you saw... she's not the only one I've painted multiple times. She's the only one I've painted multiple times that ever went up for sale. Saskia is part of my private collection.”
The way he said it made it clear he meant more than all the paintings he must have done of her. He meant she, literally, the woman, was somehow a creation of his, and a piece of art he would never part with.
“You can't tell anyone what you know,” he said. “It could cause a lot of problems for me.”
“I assumed as much. And I would never... I swear your secret's safe with me.”
He stared at her for a long time, then finally nodded. “I believe you. Come. Let's go back out. It's about to get a lot more interesting out there.”
Ari was waiting for her when she stepped into the hallway. His eyes met hers, a question in his gaze. She nodded and he held out a hand to her. She took it and allowed him to pull her into his arms. That was when Saskia rushed up, flushed with excitement.
“Guess what, Master?”
“You sold them all?” Kane asked.
“Yes! A man named Logan bought the last six!”
“You know what that means, that he bought six?”
Saskia blushed. It was the first time Claire had seen the woman anything other than poised and composed. She looked at the ground. “Yes, Master.”
He put his hand under her chin and raised it so her eyes met his. “I can show mercy. You've been such a good girl, I can change the rules for you. You haven't met Logan after all.”
She shook her head. “N-no. It's okay.”
“Oh. I see. You're attracted to him,” Kane said. But there was no anger in his tone. Just indulgent amusement.
“Yes,” she said, in a sort of breathless way, a flush rising in her cheeks.
He nodded. “Good girl. You know how much I like what a dirty little whore you are.”
Saskia had gone from confident and imposing to shy in a matter of moments under whatever dark power Kane exerted over her.
Claire had no idea what any of this meant. It was as though they were speaking in code. And though Ari could have led her away back to the party, he seemed to want to stay right where he was.
“You know, at this rate, your debt will be paid off within another year,” Kane said.
Saskia's face fell. “And then would you let me go?”
Kane laughed. “I will never let you go. But once you pay off your debt, I will let you keep your earnings.”
Relief came over the other woman's face. Claire was busy putting the pieces together even more sure now that Saskia was somehow Kane's real, actual slave—someone who couldn't leave, but who didn't seem to be making any great effort to try. Kind of like Claire.
Kane clearly wasn't worried about saying any of this openly in front of Ari and Claire. But then it was all mutually assured destruction at this point, wasn't it? It was just another layer in Ari and Kane's strange bond.
“And are you going to stop selling me to your friends?” Saskia asked, still seemingly unconcerned with Claire and Ari's proximity to the conversation.
Claire tensed at that.
“Definitely not. You know how I enjoy watching other men fuck you for my amusement.”
Saskia's blush went deeper, accompanied by a small smile this time. Claire released the breath she'd been holding. If Saskia was into it, Claire wouldn't judge her. And the fact that the other woman was engaging in sex acts with multiple men made Claire feel less terrible about the fact that Kane had touched her. Saskia wasn't expected to be faithful while Kane fucked around behind her back. Somehow this was all even. Fair.
Kane pulled Saskia into an embrace and pressed a kiss against her throat above her collar. “Are you ready, pet?”
“Yes, Master.”
Kane turned then, for the first time acknowledging Ari and Claire since they got to the hallway. “Let's go, then. Time to learn why everybody signed NDAs.”
In the main gallery, Marcus was lighting the dozens and dozens of candles around the perimeter of the giant room. Claire looked up, relieved to find a sprinkler system in the ceiling.
Marcus wasn't wearing a shirt, and Claire couldn't be sure if it was his lack of shirt in an otherwise formal environment or the lighting of the candles which had caused the room to go quieter and talk to turn to whispers. Marcus had a black dragon tattoo on his back that wrapped around one side of his torso.
Ari took Claire's hand and pulled her back to the middle of the room with the rest of the guests, as Kane and Saskia went to the area of the gallery Claire thought of as “the front” because of the way the paintings were displayed.
Kane's fingertips trailed over the dragon as he passed the other man, eliciting a small shiver. Marcus paused in his candle lighting when Saskia was within reach of him. He gripped the back of her neck possessively, pulling her in for a hungry kiss. She melted against him, unconcerned with the crowd of people now watching the front of the gallery with rapt attention. He whispered something in her ear. She nodded. Then he nodded. He and Kane exchanged a glance. It was all very cryptic.
Marcus went back to lighting the candles. When all of them were lit, he disappeared for a moment into the hallway, and the lights went out. In the lower light, Claire noticed she and Ari stood in a circle of illumination. She looked up to see the two of them were just under the skylight, the full moon shining down on them.
Her attention was called back to the front by a spoon tapping against a glass. “May I have your attention,” Kane said. He stood in front of a table with a large crystal bowl on it.
The room fell silent. Anticipation hung on the air, concentrated most heavily with the tourists in the back. They stood closer together as if they were about to spend the night in a haunted house and were now having doubts about it. Too late now. The ink was dry on the NDA's.
“I'm Jacob Hunter,” Kane said. “Saskia and I are so pleased to have you here. All twenty-four pieces that were for sale have now sold. Congratulations to all who acquired the art they wanted. I heard rumors there was some fighting over a couple of them.”
A smattering of polite laughter from the group.
Kane continued, “You all signed non-disclosure agreements before being allowed inside. As you know, that wasn't because of anything forbidden in Saskia's art, but something forbidden in my own. I have my own piece to share with you. Let's get started. If you purchased one of my lovely pet's paintings tonight, please raise your hand.”
Ari and about ten other people—three women, the rest men—raised their hands. Several must have bought more than one painting. Marcus moved through the candlelit room and handed a white envelope to each buyer.
“Please read your cards,” Kane said.
Ari opened the envelope and pulled out the card. The engraved black ink was legible under the moonlight coming in from above them, but other buyers took their cards closer to one of the many lighted candelabras to read. Ari held his card so that Claire could see it, too.
Thank you for purchasing an original Saskia Roth. You will be allowed to touch, fondle, lick, suck, and fuck the art entitled Gift with Purchase for a period of five minutes for each piece you purchased. Enjoy.
Claire's eyes widened. “What art is someone going to want to do that to?” she whispered.
“Saskia is the art,” Ari said.
“Oh.” Suddenly the implications of the stranger who had bought six paintings became c
lear. He would get thirty minutes to do whatever he wanted with Saskia, in front of the entire gallery of people. She looked around at the guests with cards, wondering which one of them was Logan. Some of the buyers had raised an eyebrow upon reading the card. Some had lascivious smiles on their faces. Some seemed to be trying to figure out just what they could do in the time allotted to them.
Ari turned to Claire, watching her, no doubt waiting for a reaction.
“What are you going to do with her?” she whispered.
Ari leaned in close to her ear. “I'm going to fuck her, gently, slowly, but I'm not going to finish. When the timer rings, I'm coming for you. I'm going to finish inside you right here in this gallery.”
Claire was suddenly so turned on she couldn't think. Wasn't she supposed to be jealous? Cry? Be angry? But all she felt was the steady throbbing pulse of growing arousal between her legs.
“I want you to watch me with her,” he continued, practically growling the words in her ear.
“Yes, Master,” she whimpered in response.
“Good girl.”
Kane spoke again. “When you've read your card, please put it back inside the envelope, and don't share it with the others around you. When your name is called, you will turn in your card. Marcus will set the timer based upon the number of paintings you purchased. You may decline your time if you don't wish to participate, but you cannot sell or trade it to anyone.
Those of you who did not purchase a painting are welcome to engage in whatever lewd acts you wish amongst yourselves. We have party favors for everyone. Please feel free to take one.” Kane pulled a familiar white tube out of the crystal bowl behind him. “Ladies, I promise you, it's like nothing you've ever experienced.”
A tall good-looking man with hawkish features carried a chair and cello across the front of the room. He placed the chair near Kane and sat.
“Nolan, play something dark. Give us some music to fuck to.”
“You know I bought a painting,” Nolan said.
“We'll give you a five-minute break,” Kane replied smoothly.
The man just chuckled and began to play slow sensual strains.