The Escape Artist

by Kitty Thomas

  Her father rose from his seat and came around the table to where Claire and Ari stood. The two men shook hands in that perfunctory firm way men do. “And what do you do?” he asked Ari straight away.

  “I'm an architect,” he said.

  “Oh? Would I know any of your work?”

  “The new library downtown? The Opera house restoration? There were a lot of new design elements that went into it. I also did the bank on Third and Main.”

  Her father looked impressed. “That's quite a resume. We were at a charity gala at the new library two months ago and were remarking on the exquisite architecture.”

  Claire noticed Roman when he came into the room. She hadn't expected to see him at Thanksgiving; it was usually just family. She excused herself to go say hi while Charles and Ari discussed building design. That might go on for a while.

  Roman gave her a big hug when she reached him. “Missed you at New Year's.”

  “I know. I came down with the flu,” she said. There was no sense in introducing a different lie, especially when her mother might have told him why she'd said she wasn't coming.

  “I would have brought a date if I thought you were bringing one. When your mother invited me it seemed like it might be a set-up.”

  Claire laughed. “And yet you still showed up.”

  He winked. “Well I couldn't let you die an old lady with cats.”

  “Thanks. Love you too.”

  “Is he being good to you?” Roman asked, not hiding his open staring at Ari.

  “Yes,” she said. She was only just now realizing that perhaps Roman had a bit of a thing for her. She never would have guessed. She'd always just thought they were friends. He was a very nice guy and very handsome, but she had no doubt he was into sweet and normal romantic sex. If he knew the things she needed, he'd run the other direction.

  “So is it serious?” Roman asked.

  “Very,” she said.

  “And you're happy?”

  She smiled. “Very.”

  Roman sighed. “All right. Well, I'm bringing a date for the Christmas Eve party.”

  Claire laughed.

  There were about thirty people gathered for dinner along the very long dining room table. Aunts and uncles and cousins and nieces and nephews and her remaining set of grandparents.

  “So,” Wendi said, when the dessert tray was rolled out, “How did you two meet?”

  In truth Claire was surprised that neither her mother nor anyone else at the table had asked that question yet. The entire room was silent, each person waiting to hear how Claire had met this guy all the women were drooling over and the men seemed intimidated by.

  “She kidnapped me and held me captive in a cell for three weeks, and we just hit it off. It was fate,” Ari said without missing a beat.

  Claire just gawked at him. But he winked at her, obviously getting a kick out of telling the absolute truth of how they met to her family, knowing they wouldn't take it seriously.

  The table erupted in laughter.

  “Gorgeous and a sense of humor. Don't let this one get away,” her mother said.

  As if she could. “I don't think you have to worry about that,” Claire said.

  Dinner was more pleasant than she'd remembered dinner with her family ever being. When the holiday ordeal was over, Ari helped her back into his car. As they pulled out of the driveway, she looked out the window, watching her parent's estate become smaller until it finally disappeared from view.

  She sighed and looked back at Ari. He watched the road but took her hand in one of his, his thumb stroking the back of her hand as they drove on in silence.

  Three hundred and twenty-three days. That was the amount of time since Ari had taken her. And somehow in that long span, instead of breaking her, he'd put her back together. The last thought on Claire's mind was escape.

  I hope you enjoyed THE ESCAPE ARTIST! So what next?

  If you haven't read the companion book, THE CON ARTIST (Quill and Saskia's story), you should go grab it now. Or you could also explore my PLEASURE HOUSE series which starts with GUILTY PLEASURES and then ties back into this world at the end. (It's a 5 book completed series)

  Blurbs, teaser scenes, and buy links below! Also, be sure to subscribe to my newsletter to hear about giveaways and new releases at http://www.kittythomas.com You'll find a full list of my titles there. I love hearing from readers, so don't be shy about using my contact form or giving me a shout out on social media. Thank you again for reading and supporting my work!

  THE CON ARTIST:

  Art. Obsession. Twisted possession.

  When starving artist Saskia Roth meets Lachlan Niche, a local art collector and tech tycoon, she has no idea how her life is about to change. One act of desperation, one con gone wrong, and she finds herself at the mercy of a powerful man she fears and despises–or so she thinks.

  As her desire for him grows, life as his captive becomes something more… something that could both transform her and destroy her.

  One-Click, THE CON ARTIST here: Amazon Link

  TEASER SCENE:

  Quill set the box next to the cage and walked the few feet to where Saskia sat like a sculpture on the ground. He pulled her up and, without a word, began to undress her. She didn't dare speak.

  He unbuttoned her jeans and slid them off her hips, his hands running carefully over each inch of skin as he exposed it to the cool air. She braced her hands against his shoulders as she stepped out of the jeans, kicking her own shoes off in the process.

  She'd worn a thong under the pants—subconsciously seducing him, knowing he'd discover it because of course this was coming. Quill ran an appreciative hand over the bared flesh, then removed the thong as well. She was left in the black cami top and collar. She hadn't bothered with a bra on the plane. She'd tried not to think too much about that choice.

  It took almost nothing, not even the hint of a breeze, for her nipples to stand at attention.

  Typically, she wore bras with padding, not to look larger, but to avoid looking sexually excited even when she wasn't. It attracted the wrong kind of attention. And she couldn't be bothered to constantly explain to men with a frat-boy mentality that they just did that.

  Quill cupped her breasts over the thin fabric and tweaked her nipples into even harder points as he stared into her eyes in the most unnerving way. She tried to look down. Some demure submissive instinct? She wasn't sure, but when her gaze dropped, he slipped a hand under her chin and forced her gaze back to his.

  Minutes passed in this aching silence. It was a challenge. A game. Who would speak first? As in any negotiation, whoever spoke first, lost. She knew that at least. She'd already lost once with this man, and she wasn't willing to keep doing it.

  Finally, he peeled her top off, and she stood on the cold marble floor, the sun from the skylight warming her back... waiting.

  She didn't wait long. He led her quietly to one of the Greek columns on the south end of the gallery and extracted a key from his pocket to unlock the chains. He turned her to face the column and locked each wrist in place so that her arms were stretched high over her head in a V. Then he did the same with her ankles. She felt as if she'd been left for a lion to rip apart in some huge amphitheater while the bored elite looked on.

  Quill dragged the mystery box over to the column. She wouldn't let herself look inside, too afraid if she saw what all he'd brought out here to torture her with, she'd start screaming and begging for mercy. She closed her eyes as large, strong hands skimmed over her back.

  Despite her fear, her body arched into his caress. He pressed a soft kiss against her shoulder, then he rooted around in the box until he found what he was looking for.

  Saskia wished there was a clock on the wall, something to mark this length of silence. Some tiny clicking tick tick tick so she could feel and know that time was still a thing that moved even as she stood frozen in this space.

  She waited for him to say something. Anything. But now that it had begun
, he seemed devoted to this eerie peace.

  She jumped as something thudded against the skylight. There was a flapping of wings, and she looked up in time to see a disoriented raven fly off. A beat later, the whip came down across her back, and she winced against its bite.

  She hadn't had time to register the sound as it sliced through the air, the noise competing with the bird outside. But she heard it the second time, so sharp and loud it seemed it could rip time and space apart. The leather licked across her flesh like a serpent made of flame, and all she could do in response was tremble in his chains.

  Screaming, crying, begging, all of these things would have been appropriate, but Saskia couldn't do it. She couldn't break this vow of silence she'd committed to, and it seemed neither could he. Neither of them spoke, too locked into this trance to interrupt its flow now.

  The only sounds that spilled forth into the gallery were the snap and crack of the whip and the tiny gasps as it stole her breath. The tears finally came, sliding down her cheeks in that same respectful silence. And she knew, even without words between them, that he was pleased.

  She counted each lash in her mind. She felt his strength, not in how hard he waled on her, but in how he restrained himself and held each strike in check.

  Finally, he returned the whip to the box. She tensed, waiting for something else—not sure she could take more when no comfort was offered. While he hadn't put her in physical peril, the lashes were much harder and more intense than the light play she'd experienced at the few kinky parties she'd been to on a lark.

  And here there was no magic word she could say to make it all stop. All she could do if it became too much was beg and hope he'd have mercy on her.

  Saskia startled when his hand wrapped around her throat, pulling her back, turning her tear-streaked face toward him. He left a long, lingering kiss on her mouth that took her breath away.

  When he pulled back, he said, “I'm going to paint you now. Just like this.”

  One-click THE CON ARTIST now: Amazon Link

  GUILTY PLEASURES:

  She was a bored housewife until she was taken and trained for the pleasure of the highest bidder.

  Vivian Delaney leads a life of privilege, but behind closed doors she feels isolated and trapped in a gilded cage. Unable to achieve sexual pleasure with her husband, she finds herself in the capable hands of Anton, a massage therapist intent on awakening her to her full sexual potential. By any means necessary.

  One-Click GUILTY PLEASURES here: Amazon Link

  TEASER SCENE:

  Five minutes of tension passed before the door clicked open. Vivian lay there with her eyes shut, trying to relax. It was just a massage. Millions of women did this every day. And even liked it, if all the raving at the country club was any indication.

  “You're my next appointment?” A male Eastern European accent—possibly Russian—greeted her ears. She squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. Couldn't she get a female for anything?

  She considered requesting a woman, but then she got a look at him.

  Wavy, jet black hair fell over the best cheekbones she'd ever seen up close and in person on a man. The definition of his chest was visible through a white t-shirt. He had strong, well-defined arms, and large, yet elegant hands, like those of a concert pianist. She could see how those hands could be equally at home playing flesh draped over a massage table.

  Her eyes traveled slowly back to his face. It was expectant. Waiting for something. Oh, yeah. An answer to his question.

  “Y-yes,” she managed to stammer.

  “Very good. My name is Anton. I'll be taking care of you today.”

  The way he said it seemed like both a sinful promise and a sinister threat, causing Vivian's heart to start doing erratic things in her chest. He moved closer, and she tensed.

  “Relax, my dear. Dr. Smith was correct. You are quite a closed-budded flower. We will open you.” He made it sound so sexual and wrong. A warmth fluttered in her center and spread outward.

  Her voice came out breathy, “You spoke to Dr. Smith?”

  “Just a few moments ago. While you were getting ready for me.”

  She turned her head away so she could stop looking at him with helpless longing. She'd experienced testosterone overload today. Too many men near her in situations that were far too sexual for her comfort.

  “You are Vivian, yes?” he said as he selected a body oil from a cart near the table. He was the king of the rhetorical question.

  “Yes.”

  The slick oil made a sound as it coated his hands. He pulled back the towel to reveal her bare back. “Lovely,” he murmured.

  Vivian wasn't sure if he was admiring her skin, or if he was referring to her name. Before she could decide which, and whether or not it was appropriate, his hands were on her body, and she forgot how to think in full sentences. The strong, gentle kneading along her back caused her to, inch-by-inch, loosen and open to him and the pleasurable sensations he delivered to her.

  He was silent as he worked out the tension around her shoulders, and then her upper back and neck. Her arms and hands came next. Everything slowly began to unclench, starting with the muscle group he was rubbing and spreading outward as she let herself relax. Her body felt loose, liquid, suspended in a tranquil bubble of calming sensations.

  Anton worked on her like this for about fifteen minutes, and then his hands began to slide lower, pushing aside the terrycloth until the towel was bunched around her thighs.

  “Really, Vivian. Underwear? I'm disappointed.”

  She reached behind her frantically for the towel to cover herself. Now there was no question he'd crossed the boundary. Wasn't a massage therapist supposed to protect their client's modesty and comfort?

  He gripped her wrist hard, not so hard to damage her, but hard enough to make her gasp in surprise at the rough contact and the menace behind it.

  “Are you going to be a good girl and put your hands back where you had them?”

  One-Click GUILTY PLEASURES now: Amazon Link

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to the following people for their help with The Escape Artist:

  Robin Ludwig @ gobookcoverdesign.com for the fabulous cover art! This is my favorite yet!

  Thank you to Michelle for great beta read suggestions.

  Thank you to Lori Jackson for the amazing teaser graphics!