by Meghan March
Think, brain, think.
I stopped on a page and stared down at the picture. It was a piece of art by a relatively new artist with little exposure and few sales. I was selling her pieces for substantially less than the others in my gallery, and reasoned therefore mine should be about the same.
I tossed out a price to Lucas and Yve, and all the heads in the gallery snapped in my direction.
“You’re underpricing that piece by several thousand dollars, in my opinion,” Lucas replied.
“That’s a steal,” Rhett agreed. “And I don’t know jack shit about art.”
“Well, that’s the price. So I guess you’re getting a bargain.”
With any other piece, my shrewd business instincts would be cringing because I was leaving money on the table. But for my own work? I couldn’t be objective. I wasn’t a real artist. My work wasn’t in this gallery for the very reason that it wasn’t the same caliber as what I normally sold.
Lucas came toward me, canvas in hand. “Then you’ll have to disagree when I say I’m paying you based on the perceived value and not your sticker price, which I think is ludicrous.”
“That’s not how you’re going to keep those billions, Titan.”
“Deal with it.” He handed the canvas to me and pulled out a money clip. Peeling off bills, he laid a stack on my desk. “Tell the artist we want to see more.”
Lucas lifted the canvas from my hands and waited for Yve to join him.
“Thank you so much! You made this way less painful than I thought it would be. Normally we end up arguing over every goddamned thing, but this we agreed on. Shocking.”
“Would you like me to wrap it up for you?” I asked, still stunned that Lucas and Yve had bought my painting.
“No need. It’ll go in the car where it can’t be damaged. Thank you again, Valentina. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you soon.”
And then they were gone, leaving the sound of the chime fading away and me alone with Rhett and a stack of cash on my desk. Part of me wanted Rhett to leave so I could count it and find out how much Lucas Titan had deemed as the perceived value. The other part wanted to beg him to stay and tell him everything.
“Sounds like you’re going to have one happy new artist on your hands.”
“She’ll be very surprised.”
Rhett studied me closely, and again I was reminded that I was facing a detective. He couldn’t know I’d painted it. There was no way he could know.
“Well, I’d best get on my way and back to work. My cases aren’t going to solve themselves.”
Do I add another case to it? Rix’s words came back to me. Should I even trust him to get her back?
I’ll give him another day, I decided. Then all bets are off.
I smiled at Rhett and wondered if I looked as conflicted as I felt. “Thank you for stopping by. I’ll see you later.”
He continued his study of me for several moments, and I wondered if he’d push. He didn’t. “You certainly will.”
The door whooshed open and two more customers walked in. Rhett nodded and headed out.
What was I doing with him? And how in the world had Rix gotten a painting from my house to the gallery? And why?
After a steady stream of customers until closing, I finally had a chance to sit down at my desk and pull up my security footage from last night. It showed me leaving and locking up, and then nothing for hours. I was near the point of dozing off when all of the security feeds went black.
“What the hell?”
I skipped back and let it replay. Again, black. For six minutes. And then the picture reappeared and there wasn’t a soul in the gallery.
I knew he could disable my home alarm system, so how much of a stretch was it really that he could disable my security cameras?
Shoving up from my desk, I grabbed my purse and stalked to the door. I flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED and set the alarm—gritting my teeth because I knew it couldn’t keep one particular person out.
And that one particular person had some explaining to do.
IT WAS HARD TO BELIEVE I was once again parking my Tesla across the street from Rix’s house. This was a neighborhood I never should have set foot in to begin with, and here I was making it a regular stop.
Again wondering if my car would be there when I returned, I locked the door and crossed the street. The metal gate opened soundlessly on well-oiled hinges, and I picked my way over the cracked path and up the porch steps before hammering on the door.
I could have done this via text or phone call, but I wanted to see Rix’s face when he tried to explain why he did it—and I was going to use the opportunity to press him about Trinity again.
There was no answer.
I remembered that the doorbell didn’t work, so I ignored it and kept up with my pounding on the door.
Still nothing.
In my hurry to get here, it hadn’t occurred to me that he might not be home for me to unleash my tirade on. I pulled out my phone and found his contact.
VALENTINA: Where the hell are you?
I wasn’t in the mood to be nice, and yes, once again, I’d decided any rules about Rix being scary didn’t apply to me.
At least this time, his response was almost instant.
RIX: Busy.
Busy? What the hell? He wasn’t allowed to be busy. No, he was not.
VALENTINA: Get unbusy. I’m on your doorstep.
RIX: WTF, duchess? Go home. Now.
VALENTINA: No.
RIX: Stubborn woman. Be there in 5. Wait inside. It’s unlocked.
I stared down at my phone. He leaves his house unlocked? In this neighborhood?
Maybe when you’re the leader of one of the most notorious gangs in New Orleans, you’re not worried about someone breaking in.
I chanced a look over my shoulder before I tucked my phone away and reached for the door handle. Sure enough, there were at least two men watching my every move. One had a phone in hand, and his thumbs were moving furiously. So maybe Rix didn’t need to lock his house if he had people watching it. The man texting looked up at me and gave me a nod.
It didn’t take a genius to guess who he was texting with. Apparently I’d been given the official go-ahead.
Twisting the handle, I pushed open the door and stepped inside the house. It was quiet and still, and I felt like I was trespassing, even though I had permission to be inside. Then I decided that feeling was ridiculous because Rix clearly hadn’t felt the same way when he’d broken into my house multiple times and now my place of business too. And he’d snooped and stolen from me.
Now it’s my turn.
Because I was a rebel, I left my shoes on—after wiping them carefully on the rug—and started my survey of Rix’s domain. It was clearly a bachelor pad, and minimalist at best. There was a comfy couch in the living room, and a giant brown leather recliner that showed more wear than the rest. Apparently Rix liked his creature comforts.
The glass coffee table was empty except for some discarded mail. My curiosity ramped up when I realized his full name had to be on the mail. Crossing the worn wooden floor, I picked up an envelope. Rix Jones.
Well, that was boring, and it sounded fake. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was. Given that he was involved in less-than-legal activities, would he really use his real name?
Replacing the mail on the table, I surveyed the living room more closely. A giant flat-screen television hung on the wall, but not a single picture. Actually, the entire room was devoid of knickknacks. I was headed out of the living room when the front door opened and the man himself stepped into the entryway.
I wasted no time.
“Why? It was one thing to take the picture I painted and keep it for yourself, but why the hell would you take one and put it in my gallery where someone could mistake it as a piece for sale?”
Rix didn’t deny anything. “Because your pictures should be hanging on the walls of that gallery. I just gave you a push. Bet someone already bought it, didn�
�t they?” He came toward me. “Is that what’s got you all fired up?”
I propped my hands on my hips, refusing to back down. “You broke into my house—again—and stole from me—again—and then you broke into my business. That’s what I’m fired up about! You can’t just do whatever you want. There are rules.”
“I make my own rules.”
“I’ve heard that before, and guess what? It’s bullshit. Did it ever occur to you that my work wasn’t in my own gallery because I made the decision that it shouldn’t be?”
Rix took another step toward me. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re wrong? Your shit deserves to be on those fancy walls you own just as much as anything else. Now tell me, duchess, how fast did it sell?”
Gritting my teeth, I refused to give him the answer he wanted to hear. “That’s not the point.”
“I’d say it’s a really fucking important point.” One step closer and we stood toe-to-toe. “How fast?”
“My friends bought it, so it doesn’t count,” I said in a rush of breath.
One side of Rix’s mouth lifted. “Did you tell them it was yours?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Then it fucking counts.” He lifted a hand, caught a lock of my hair, and held it between his thumb and index finger. “How much did you sell it for?”
I glared at him and snapped, “Shouldn’t you have priced it too? I mean, since you went to the trouble of making sure it ended up for sale?”
“How much?”
“Several times more than the price I asked.”
That’s when Rix started laughing. A full-bodied, deep laugh. The kind that came from the gut. “Figures. Guess you should be thanking me.”
Glaring, I crossed my arms. “You can’t just break in whenever you want and take whatever you want. You have to stop.”
His laugh quieted and he shook his head. “I haven’t taken nearly everything I want. But it’s about time I do.”
He stepped forward, and I barely had time to breathe before his lips covered mine. His kiss was raw, unapologetic, and honest. The heat that had been growing in my belly while we argued seemed to burst into flames, licking up my body and burning away all my inhibitions.
Rix slid his hands under my ass and lifted me up to wind my legs around his waist. My arms twined around his neck and before I knew what was happening, we were moving. I didn’t care because I kept my lips on his, the kiss sustaining me, urging me on, wanting to be closer. The heat from his body burned through my clothes, and I wanted to touch that skin that I’d painted.
Doubt and warnings battered my brain, but in my mind, I’d thrown up a barricade against reality, wanting only to live in this moment. Wanting this man. Having this man.
Was this why I’d wanted to come and deliver my reprimand in person? Because I wanted this to happen?
I couldn’t answer my own question, and no other thoughts processed until Rix started moving. He tilted me down and my back pressed against something soft. Blinking my eyes open, dark jade walls and dark, heavy wood furniture came into view.
Rix’s bedroom. Rix’s bed.
I hadn’t made it that far in my self-guided tour of his house, but I knew that was where we were without question. It should have been the wake-up call I needed to snap out of this haze, but my barricade against reality kept out the thoughts that should have been screaming What the hell do you think you’re doing? Stop! Now! Before it’s too late.
I knew one thing for sure—it was already too late to stop this. I wanted Rix. And for once, since that night that changed my life irrevocably, I was going to leap without looking. I was going to take what I wanted. I wasn’t a victim anymore; I was a woman. And I could have what I wanted.
Rix didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess. He just kept his mouth on me as his hands roamed my body.
God, the feel of his hands on my body. Big, strong, kneading, coaxing, perfect.
I reached out to touch him, my palms meeting the hard planes and curves of muscle of his chest and shoulders. This was what all men should feel like. Strong. Capable. Amazing.
He finally lifted his head away, both our breaths coming in gasps and pants.
“Want you naked. Now.”
Nodding, I didn’t waste the oxygen or brainpower it would take to make words.
“God, you’re fucking beautiful, duchess.”
“Hurry up.” They were the only words I could even think to speak at that moment. Everything he was saying was everything I wanted. And I wanted it right now.
His mouth curved in satisfaction as he reached for the back of his T-shirt and yanked it up and over his head, revealing all of the muscles my hands had explored through the soft cotton. And let me tell you, holy hell, they were even better to see. The man’s body was art carved from bone and sinew. Smooth, sleek muscles built into the most aesthetically pleasing form I’d ever seen.
I’d never thought much about the differences in men’s bodies, but after seeing this man’s body, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to look at another’s the same. In that moment, my standards of male beauty jumped up a notch, and God help me, but I didn’t ever want to lower those standards again. And I wanted to touch him, naked.
“You like what you see.”
It wasn’t a question. And God, why would it be? The man should have the ultimate confidence looking like that under his clothes.
“I want to see more,” I said. “All of it. Hurry.”
One side of his mouth quirked higher and I wanted to kiss the smirk off his face, but I wanted him to be naked even more.
I reached for the zipper that held my blouse together instead of buttons, and slowly lowered it inch by inch.
“Ah, woman, I didn’t think I could get any harder, but when you tease me like that . . .”
“Hurry.” I swear, my vocabulary had shrunk to that single word. I wanted more. I wanted him. I wanted it now.
Rix reached for his heavy silver belt buckle, which actually looked like brass knuckles, and unhooked it. When he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, he let them fall, the weight of the belt buckle taking them to the floor.
My sexy, slow unzipping motion froze when I realized he was wearing nothing beneath his worn jeans. Not a stitch. To the boxers or briefs question, Rix’s answer was neither.
And I completely approved.
Long and thick, his cock bobbed once it was free, and steadily rose toward his belly button.
The condoms I used to stuff in my purse before that infamous night that everything had changed would never have fit him. He was the myth, the legend, the magnum.
My mouth practically watered at the thought of getting that thick, dark, and beautiful cock between my lips.
Wait, what? Since when had I ever been that excited to suck a dick? I mean, yes, I loved the innate power I felt when I was able to bring a man to his knees that way, but I never actually desperately wanted to do it. That was something other women claimed to love to do, and secretly I thought they were all spewing loads of bullshit, because hello, sucking dick was kind of awkward.
But when I saw Rix’s perfect cock, it was like my instinctive feminine desire to please him bubbled up out of the primitive part of my brain. When had that happened before? Never.
Thinking too much, Valentina.
And all of a sudden, thinking was no longer a problem because Rix wrapped his hand around his perfect cock and squeezed and stroked, pre-cum already wetting the head.
“You want this, duchess?”
Nodding was all I could offer in response. My thoughts were short-circuiting at the sight.
“Good, because you’re going to take it all.”
A rush of slickness hit my panties, because I didn’t go commando like Rix, and the remnants of my patience melted.
“Now. Please.”
I spread my legs, and realized I wasn’t even close to naked. My blouse was halfway unzipped, my skirt was still intact, and my panties were in place.
“Yo
u don’t look ready to take me, duchess. And besides, I’m going to taste that perfect little pussy before I fuck it.”
I was still trying to kick-start my brain to decide what exactly I should do to move this process along and get to the part where Rix’s body was touching mine, when he dropped to his knees and spread my legs wide, shoving my skirt up to my waist.
Today I’d gone bare-legged, with only a thong under my skirt. A rumble from Rix clued me into the fact that he approved. A lot.
“Red. Wasn’t the color I was expecting, but fuck if I don’t love it.”
Those were the only words he spoke before he tugged my panties to the side. He lowered his face and paused.
“Fuck, you’re dripping, duchess. You want me, and I fucking love that I can see it. Soaked from only a kiss. I haven’t even had my mouth on those tits of yours.”
Actually, he hadn’t even seen my tits, but I wasn’t about to point that out either. I just wanted him to get to what he was about to do.
I didn’t have to wait another five seconds before he buried his face between my legs and began lapping at my pussy, licking up all the slickness his kiss and his words had caused.
The thought brought a giggle to my lips, and Rix stopped and looked up.
“No. Don’t stop,” I ordered, my hands going to his completely buzzed head, and uselessly trying to push it back down between my legs. Rude? I didn’t care. I cared about his mouth being on my pussy, and that was it.
“I’ll get right back to eating this pussy as soon as you tell me what the giggle was for.”
Fuck it. I didn’t care. Whatever would get him back to what he was doing most expediently was all that mattered. I had no shame when it came to this. My orgasm was going to come fast and hard, and I wanted it right now.
“I was thinking it was your mess, so it was only right you cleaned it up. You got me wet. There you go. Back to what you were doing. Please.”
The words were a mess of awkward, embarrassing, and jumbled, but I was beyond caring. If he decided he didn’t like it and wanted to stop, I was pretty sure I could develop some crazy upper-body strength to get his head back down to where it belonged.