“I’m not your girlfriend,” I muttered defensively.
“We’ve managed by some miracle to make it to the level of friends. I’ve felt comfortable enough to show you one of my inventions and you’ve dared to show me your assets.” He arched a brow.
“Are you like this with your girlfriend?” I looked up at him.
“Are you fishing for clues on me, Zara?”
“Merely making polite conversation.”
His eyes glittered in the firelight. “I fuck, yes.”
I pretended not to be thrown and fluffed a strand of hair to distract him from my shock.
“How about you?” he said.
“God, no, won’t be trying that again. Dating, I mean.”
No matter how amazing one night of wildness with Wilder sounded.
“Someone broke your heart?” he asked softly.
“Doesn’t that come as standard?”
He turned and stared at me for the longest time.
I forced a smile. “Art’s my only love. And it always will be.”
His intense green eyes seared into me as though trying to scorch my soul, causing a thrill to surge up my spine. My flesh thrummed with aliveness from being this close to him as though unwittingly craving even more...heartache.
I stepped toward the blonde. “Which way is the loo, please?”
She leaned toward me. “Shall I show you?”
“No, thank you, though.” Now that we had a reason to wander off, I smiled back at Tobias.
Her boyfriend’s lust-fueled glare ate me up and sent an uneasy shiver down my spine.
Tobias narrowed his gaze at the man, proving his disapproval, and the redheaded stud turned away, his smirk looking like a permanent fixture.
The blonde pointed left of the stage.
“Come on,” said Tobias, and we headed in that direction.
“That was easy,” I muttered.
Tobias’s grip tightened. “Not now.”
We weaved our way through the crowd, who were totally absorbed by the dancers. Two of the showgirls on stage were getting it on and taking this lusty extravaganza to the next level.
My jaw gaped when one of them kneeled before her lover and buried her face between the other girl’s legs, the woman responded eagerly thrusting her sex forward, her eyelids flicking and her moans rising.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“Then don’t look,” snapped Tobias.
He navigated us around a couple who were stripping. We were closing in on midnight apparently.
We slipped out a side door.
Music and cheers lessening behind us as we sped down the hallway, me in four-inch heels and trying to keep up with Tobias.
We paused at the fork in the corridor. Three choices lay ahead of us. “You Americans are a bunch of perverts,” I bit out.
He snapped his glare my way. “Excuse me?”
“That’s a den of iniquity.”
He pointed at my shoes. “What’s that beneath your feet?”
I leaned forward to better look down.
“That’s England, Zara. These are your people.”
I fisted my hands and rested them on my hips. “Where is it, then? I want to see it.”
“I hope you’re referring to the painting?” He grinned. “Sure you don’t want to go back and take another peek? Dabble a bit?”
“Quite sure.”
He stepped closer. “I’m leading this mission. Just so we’re clear.”
“I thought it was a brilliant ruse.”
“Except the restrooms for the guests are in the opposite direction of where we need to be.” He shrugged out of his jacket.
“Have you been here before?”
“No.” He rested his jacket around my shoulders.
I breathed in his soft cologne and soaked up the warmth, grateful to cover myself as I tugged it around me.
Tobias pulled out his phone and slid his fingertip along the screen and then stared down, engrossed.
I frowned his way.
“I’m checking the score. Dolphins are winning.” He looked up at me.
“American football? Seriously?”
He looked incredulous. “No, Zara, I’m looking at a map.” He pointed west. “This way.”
“Have you ever taken part in one of those?” My breath stilted as I waited for his answer.
Tobias wrapped his arm around my waist. “I don’t share. Ever.”
“Even your toys?”
“You were referring to my women. So was I,” he said as he started running.
“Are you going to give me a clue?” I asked as I followed him down a series of endless corridors.
“No,” he said brightly. “I want to see your reaction.” The intrigue spurred me to run faster.
We rounded another corridor and right past a masked couple who’d also strayed from the party. When they faded from sight we paused at the door at the end.
Tobias opened it.
He stepped in partially and then quickly backed out, closing it again.
“Wrong room?” I said.
“No, there’s a couple. Well, a ménage. To be accurate.”
“In there?”
He looked thoughtful. “Full-on.”
“Oh, well that’s inconvenient.”
“Certainly is.”
“We’ll wait here, then?”
“They’re almost done. From the sounds of...”
A woman’s wails of pleasure flooded out into the hallway.
“We can wait,” I agreed.
“Sure.”
“We have the time, right?”
“Are you warm enough?”
“Yes, thank you. I can’t wait to see the painting.”
He glanced upward at the ceiling, hinting we were probably being watched.
“Isn’t this place incredible?” I whispered.
Tobias forced a smile and gave a nod, proving he was in no mood for small talk.
It made my heart sink a little as I realized we had nothing to talk about, proving we had nothing in common. Standing here now with him staring at the ground and me leaning against the wall, I imagined what kind of woman Tobias usually went for.
Hearing those rising moans wasn’t helping.
I avoided his gaze and admired the arching stained glass windows, and beyond them sprawled a large courtyard and in the center sat a fountain and around it elegantly arranged benches positioned just so to catch the morning sun. The old me would have loved to have visited during the day and brought a picnic and a good book and sat on one of those benches and savored being there.
I’d stepped behind the veil of the elite, beyond the safety of my world, having never explored this sensual side of me before, never allowed myself to imagine ever taking part in such a daring escapade, like searching out masterpieces in ancient castles, with an orgy as a backdrop.
And with a man like Tobias as my guide, who made me feel as though wildfire was burning me from the inside out.
Falling for his enigmatic charm would be so, so easy.
“What was his name?” Tobias looked at me.
“Who?”
“The man who broke your heart?”
“Zach.”
“Zach’s an idiot. Don’t take him back.”
The door flew open and a scantily dressed masked woman burst out, her cheeks flushed, her laughter loud, her hair a mass of post-fucked curls, and following behind hurried two men, their clothes as disheveled as their hair.
Tobias gave them a respectful wave as he watched them head off down the hallway. He reached for my hand and pulled me in—
A state room, perhaps where visiting dignit
aries would be welcomed and no doubt impressed with the finery. Plush red carpet, white-and-gold wallpaper, candelabras, a few statues here and there on podiums, and the most striking collection of wall-to-wall paintings by Francisco Goya.
“The last of the great masters.” My breath caught as the words fell away.
Turning around and around to look at the others, I smiled brightly, exhilarated to be given the chance to experience these rare wonders, a private collection that rivaled those shown in the finest galleries.
I wanted to leap onto Tobias and wrap myself around him in a hug to thank him for bringing me.
He moved fast and gestured me to follow quickly.
Above the large unlit fireplace hung La Maja Vestida, an exquisite oil painting by Goya, finished somewhere around 1805.
The beautiful subject held a timeless smile, her long chaste white dress showing off her curves, over which she wore a short yellow jacket. A pink sash snug around her waist. Her hands were held above her head as she reclined in a sensual pose on a couch.
“This is her?”
Tobias’s gaze held the painting.
I admired her natural beauty, flushed cheeks from wine or making love, her eyes twinkling as though humoring Goya with her patience to sit still as he painted.
Tobias neared me and reached inside his jacket pocket, his strong hand brushing my thigh as he searched for it. “One second.”
He removed my small magnifier and handed it to me.
Easing off my mask, I let it hang from my neck by the ribbon.
He walked across the room and pulled a chair over to the fireplace and gestured for me to climb up. I kicked off my heels and used his hand to support my balance as I stood on the chair. I sprang into action, peering through my magnifier and studying the elegant strokes of Goya’s signature.
I lowered the magnifier and handed it back to him. “We have a problem.”
He tucked my magnifier away. “Metric frame?”
“Yes.”
“Two hundred years ago they hadn’t gone metric.”
“Exactly.”
“Keep going.”
“Do you think they’ve started?” I asked.
“What?”
“The orgy?”
“Zara, the painting, please.” He suppressed a smile.
“I need to see the back.” I glanced at the door. “Can we take it down?”
“Sure.”
Together we lifted the portrait off its hanger and carried it over to an antique table, laying it down with the reverence both deserved.
“The framing’s modern.” Ruefully, I shook my head. “There’s our first clue. Though it could have been reframed. There’s no hint of exposure to open fires or pipe smoke, or any other signs of aging to the canvas. Unless this was stored in an oxygen deprived facility...which...”
“They didn’t have back then.”
“Sorry, Tobias.”
He reached for the back of the frame and inserted his fingers between the canvas and ripped hard, separating it from the other. “How about this one?”
My palm slammed to my mouth.
“Focus,” he said, amused.
“What did you do?”
“Look.”
“Behind it?”
“Yes.” He gestured for me to come closer.
Stepping forward, I peered over the top of the frame and there she lay, La Maja Desnuda, the exact same painting we were just looking at but the subject now completely nude, her pose mirroring the first.
“Oh my God,” I said in a rush. “She’s gorgeous.”
“Whenever you’re ready.” He handed me back my magnifier.
I peered through it with one eye. “She’s painted in oil, so easy to replicate.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
I threw him a glare and he threw one back, and then he grinned and it was one of those cute, heart melting smiles, reminding me this was an adventure like no other.
He came round to stand beside me and his expression turned to awe. “Look at the detail. The colors are exquisite.”
“She really is beautiful.”
“Zara, do you feel her presence? She stirs a visceral response.”
“Yes.”
“So much secrecy around her.”
I gave a nod, mesmerized by the way the artist painted the light around her. “La Maja was never exhibited during Goya’s lifetime.”
Peering through my magnifier again, I leaned closer. “Colors are pure. No modern palettes. All the touches of Goya, his diagonal signature is the same sweep of an a.” I raised my line of sight to look at Tobias. “Perhaps you can ask to see the paperwork? Track its provenance?”
He waved that off. “Later.”
Admiring the colors, I went to run my fingertip along the lower corner. Tobias grabbed my hand.
“Of course,” I said. “It’s instinctive.”
“No fingerprints.”
A door slammed from somewhere out there and made me jump.
“Seen enough?” he said.
“I need more time.”
His jaw clenched with tension and he gave a sharp nod.
Goya’s bold technique, a dash of daring freestyle, his ability to read the truth in the eyes of his subject, reveal their very soul, proved his profound understanding of the human condition. Had Goya’s illness, which had left him permanently deaf, been the catalyst for such unearthly insight?
This painting had gotten him into a lot of trouble. He’d been summoned before the Spanish Inquisition to explain La Maja Desnuda, a rare nude in a sea of religious paintings that had been commissioned that year. He’d lived out his days in exile in France after the political upheaval of 1824. He’d died in Madrid, which was where this painting should have been hanging. The fact it was hidden behind another was heartbreaking and raised so many questions.
“How did you know?” I said.
He looked at the door.
Footsteps...
Laughter...the sound fading.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched him tuck my magnifier into the pocket of his jacket that still hung from my shoulders.
With a white handkerchief, Tobias dusted off his fingerprints and then secured the back of the frame to hide the painting, reusing the tape and smoothing it over. Together we carried the painting back over to the mantel and with a hefty tug we managed to get it resecured on the wire hanger.
Taking a step back I let him straighten the frame and continue dusting our prints off, which he did with ease.
I slipped back into my heels and kneeled to work on the straps around my ankles.
“Zara, put your mask back on, please.”
I used the antique mirror to straighten it and stared at my dazed eyes.
“You okay?”
He broke me from my trance and I gave a nod. “I’m fine.”
I was better than fine, I was in my element and wanted to spend the night here and move from painting to painting until each brushstroke of the subjects’ faces became branded into memory.
Strolling over to take a better look at the other paintings, my gaze drank in the miniature of Alberto Giacometti, an oil on cardboard capturing red roses. “This is pretty.”
Tobias’s firm hands wrapped around my waist and he spun me to face him, and with an ironclad grip he cupped my face. His lips crushed mine, forcing my mouth wider as his tongue possessed it, circling, setting every nerve alight with his intensity, owning me with his passion.
Weakening in his arms, surrendering, I let go and let him in, gripping his strong forearms and digging my fingernails into taut muscle. His hands left my face and moved to grab my wrists, and he yanked them behind my back and held them together, tight,
forceful, dominating me with an unmatched strength.
Pleasure swelled low in my belly.
He’d chosen the perfect setting for our first kiss and my joy from being here fused with this electric current surging through me, flaring from his intensity and, despite our daring, never had I felt safer.
“Oh yes.” I moaned into his mouth, shocked at his stunning show of power, my core alight, my body trembling with his unbidden heat, nipples erect against his chest. This was how I’d always yearned to be kissed, as though loved, this initial burst of control easing into a leisurely snog.
Tobias pulled away and his fierce glare held mine, his mask making him look so damn sexy. My lips reached for his again, unable to resist his fiery eyes that stared into mine, that green ablaze with desire.
This lure of need rising below—
He turned his head slightly and smiled toward the doorway, his grip still firm, my body still crushed against his.
“Warming her up,” he said darkly.
My gaze snapped to the door.
Two tall men wearing masks and tuxedos stood just inside.
One of the men raised his hand. “Sir, the party’s this way.”
“One second.” He waved them out. “It’s her first time.”
With a nod of permission the men turned on their heels and left. Tobias beamed my way. “I think we fooled them, don’t you?”
My jaw was gaping.
“Zara?”
“Yes, absolutely.” I righted my footing as he pulled away, my scorching cheeks and racing heart needing more time to recover. “Totally convinced.” Trying to swallow this lump of embarrassment in my throat.
I tugged his jacket around me.
“I need it back,” he said kindly.
Reluctantly, I eased it off my shoulders and held his jacket out to him, watching Tobias nonchalantly pull his arms through as though we’d not just shared an incredible kiss.
He used the same mirror to straighten his shirt and tie and fix his mask.
In a blur I followed him, glancing back at La Maja Desnuda as though I’d been the one naked and exposed.
7
We headed down the hallway following the men back toward the foyer. The door to the party was up ahead.
Music carried from within the vast room. Some rhythmic rave number, an erotic backdrop to spur those within on and tease them into an unending wave of lovemaking.
The Chase Page 8