If we were competing in the pert nipple awards, she’d be the front runner. Her low-cut dress and sheer gown revealed her thoroughbred genes in all their long-limbed glory.
She swept toward us with a catwalk stride. “Tobias!” Her accent as posh as a Sunday at Ascot. “You came.”
“Violet.” Tobias leaned in to kiss both her cheeks.
It wasn’t so much a sense of jealousy as me soaking in the futility of competing with this goddess.
“This is Zara.” He gestured to her. “Zara, this is our hostess, Violet Maxwell.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
“Thank you for inviting us,” I replied.
Violet beamed. “Tobias, your bride is a real hottie.”
“We’re not married,” I said.
“Not yet, but you two are a perfect match.” She waved her hand. “Hugo will be so happy you’re here. Hugo, come here.”
A tall, handsomely weathered eighty-year-old stepped out of the crowd. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Tobias.”
“Hugo.” He proffered his hand and shook his. “Always a pleasure, you both look wonderful. May I introduce Zara Leighton?”
From the way Hugo rested his hand on Violet’s arse, this was not her father. That blinding ruby-and-gold band on her left ring finger proved they were married. This man was at least twice her age. And she looked so damn happy.
Tobias eloquently parlayed the conversation away from himself and managed to get Hugo talking about his morning golf, which of course Hugo had won. A few strategic questions later and Hugo was also sharing his plan to buy another hotel in Milan, an impressive addition to his apparent collection, Violet shared with us.
“We’re off to Utah in January,” said Violet.
“Perhaps we’ll visit you?” said Tobias. “Stay at your Grand Royall. I hear you’re taking five stars to the next level?”
Violet beamed at him. “We can attend Sundance together.”
“Zara would love that,” he said.
Hugo looked triumphant. “We have a rare conch shell trumpet on display!”
Tobias’s face lit up with joy.
“We have all sorts of stuff here we know you’ll like,” said Violet. “Go take a look. We simply must do dinner.”
“We’d love that.” Tobias’s gaze roamed toward where a crowd had turned the corner. “It’s that way?”
“You don’t have drinks?” Hugo sounded appalled.
“We want to enjoy the art first,” said Tobias. “Give it our full attention.”
“Wilder, you’re ever an art connoisseur,” said Hugo as he turned to me. “Zara, the shell is a Nepalese antiquity. You can hold it if you like. Tell them to take it out of the case. The shell is one of five weapons of Vishnu, and can destroy your enemies if blown by an innocent who is worthy.”
Tobias laughed. “I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere.”
They laughed and Violet leaned in to kiss both his cheeks again. “Don’t leave it so long next time. We missed you.”
He led me away from the Maxwells, and I sensed they were still staring at us as we walked away.
“They’re nice,” I said.
“They are.”
“Looks like she did well.”
“She did.”
“She likes you.”
“Violet married for love.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you known them?”
“A while.”
I pulled on his arm. “Why are you always so elusive?”
He rested his hand on the lower curve of my back. “Look, there’s the horn.”
In the far glass cabinet rested an old shell wrapped in ornate silver and embedded with blue semiprecious stones. It was so pretty.
Two other guests were also milling around in here. Their attention had fallen on a collection of scary huge curved knives that looked like machetes.
“It’s a kukri.” Tobias pointed to the case. “The Nepalese use them to prepare their food. They also use them to kill. Hopefully not at the same time.”
I waited until we were alone. “I’m serious.”
“My favorite color is nude. Zara-nude to be specific.”
I broke away from him and walked over to another glass case and stared at the conch shell trumpet.
“It’s an instrument.” Tobias neared me. “It’s a means to enlightenment. Want me to get it out?”
“No. I might accidently bop you on your head with it.”
He came closer. “You don’t strike me as the violent type.”
“I’m not talking to you. Not until you agree to open up.” He stood by my side and his arm brushed mine.
I waited until we were alone. “Have you ever been married?”
He hesitated. “Let’s not do this here.”
Clenching my teeth, I stared at the horn. “We’re alone.”
“Still.”
I turned to face him. “Yes, I love art. But what I also know is people are more important.”
“I agree.”
“Well, then.”
“Zara, we’ve only been seriously dating for forty-eight hours.”
The word seriously slipped through my defenses and I weakened. And then pulled myself back from his deflection.
“Why are you so evasive?” I raised my hand in protest. “When I ask you a question, you kiss me. Or...”
We were moving way beyond the boundaries of friends and yet, if he didn’t let me in, how could there be an authentic us?
He arched a brow.
“What I do know about you is this—you’re a talented inventor, which you’ve turned into a successful business. You have an incredible building with your name on it in the Wharf—”
“It’s not a phallic representation. If that’s where you’re going with this.”
“Tobias.”
“Though it could be.” He peered through the glass to take a closer look.
“There you go again.” I peered in too. “Using humor to divert the truth.”
“I am what you see.”
“You’re closed off. You refuse to let me in.”
He stood straight and stared at me with those green eyes softening under the fluorescent light. “This might have been a mistake.”
I swallowed hard.
He wasn’t talking about the party.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. You’ve come into my life like a breath of fresh air. Your happiness is more important than my own. It’s just that I have certain commitments. It makes for a delicate balance.”
Yet another encrypted meaning for me to wrap my head around. Tobias was like one of those icebergs, where you realize you’re merely glimpsing the surface and yet beyond the depths there was so much more.
I broke his gaze.
“I’ve never been married. There, how was that?”
“I’m stronger than you think. You can lean on me.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets.
Silence lingered and I let it, hoping it would feed back and unsettle him. “Anything else you want to tell me?” I said.
He let out a sigh. “I can be intense in the bedroom. Dominating. Some would say punishing.”
“In what way?”
“I’m obsessive about how many orgasms I can give you over the course of a night.”
I rolled my eyes.
“It’s a fact.”
My sex throbbed and I forced myself to pull back from this erotic brink.
“I’ve offended you?” he asked softly.
“What girl doesn’t want to be taken hard by a hot guy?”
&
nbsp; His eyebrows rose. “I make the Kama Sutra look vanilla.”
I raised my chin proudly. “So, we’re compatible in the bedroom, then.”
“Well, it’s a start.”
“Wilder, I’m going to tie you down and torture you until you open up to me.”
“Not into that.”
I cupped his face in my hands and leaned in and kissed him, my tongue entering his mouth and swirling around his, demonstrating my power.
He pulled away and blinked at me. “You’re going to have to do better than that if you want me to open up more.”
“I’m not wearing any panties,” I snapped. “Now how about some compromise?”
“Not quite seeing the connection.”
Frustration welled in my belly. “I’m right here but you block me from getting close.”
“I’m really rather boring. Nothing more to add really.”
I walked away from him and quickly headed into the next room, relieved no one else was in here so I could calm my annoyance.
Upon the walls were paintings of the Himalayas. The artist seemingly the same for each one from what I could tell. Every season had been captured. That snow-covered tip of Mount Everest was worth revisiting when I cooled off and was calm enough to appreciate its Zen.
My feet jolted to a stop.
I saw him in the next room and even with his back to me I recognized that tweed-wearing threat. That unmistakable upper-crust English accent grating on my nerves. Nigel Turner, that wily London Times journalist was here.
I slid left and turned a doorknob and stepped into a hallway. Lifting my hem, I made my way down, unsure of the plan, just knowing I had to get as far away as possible.
I cursed him for using the same name as one of my favorite painters. Joseph Mallord William Turner was one of Britain’s most talented romanticist landscape painters, and by all accounts he’d been the sweetest man and easily one of the most gifted masters of watercolor.
No, Nigel had no right to share his name.
I hurried round the corner and bumped right into Violet, our bodies clashing, and I almost fell backward. Steadying myself, I waved my apology and caught my breath as pain thrummed in my chest and my teeth chattered.
“Are you okay?” she said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to get away from someone.”
“Have you fallen out with Tobias?”
“No, it’s not him. Just saw a journalist who’s been hounding me.”
“Why?”
“It’s complicated. Has something to do with my father’s estate.” I didn’t want to get into it.
She grabbed my hand and pulled me along the hallway. “Come on, I know where we can hide and no one will find us.”
She burst out laughing with her playfulness, and it echoed behind us.
With my fingers interlocked with hers, we flew down the hallway in a cloud of her richly textured perfume that made me heady. Adrenaline pumped through my veins as I savored the thrill of escaping.
“What about Tobias?” I said.
“He’ll be fine,” she said. “Come on.”
Having one up on Nigel with the host herself was hilarious, and I was grateful for Violet’s generosity.
I knew Nigel would be cruel and ask all sorts of questions about St. Joan turning up at Christie’s and his interrogation would no doubt turn nasty.
“In here.”
We moved through a luxurious blue-themed bedroom.
Violet tapped a code into a walled keypad. “This is private.”
The room was small. In the center stood a black marble pillared stand, and on top of it sat a glass case. Resting within the protective square was an ornate carved metal bowl and a gong beside it.
I approached respectfully. “It’s beautiful.”
“Tibetan singing bowl,” Violet whispered as she closed the door behind us.
I looked around, realizing she’d brought me into a walk-in safe. “Why is it not on display with the others?”
“It’s priceless. Goes all the way back to the first Dalai Lama.”
“Seriously?”
Delicate symbols trailed around its lower base and around the rim were a swirl of lilies.
The handle of the gong looked bronze. A strange sense of peace emanated from its simple design.
It felt too sacred for this place.
“Hugo says it’s like owning the equivalent of the Holy Grail.” She waved it off and neared me. “Just a silly old pot if you ask me. I keep all my jewelry in here too. Sometimes I just drench myself in diamonds and run around naked.”
She made me laugh as that visual flashed before me. “The stuff in here is worth millions.”
“Then I feel honored.” I took her hands and squeezed them. “Thank you for saving me.”
“Better?”
“Much.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
“Thank you, Violet. Sorry for taking you away from your guests.”
“I’m so happy you came. Tobias never brings anyone to our parties usually.” Her words made me feel selfishly happy. “He has lovely taste.”
“The dress?” I ran my hand down the material over my belly. “It’s more revealing than I’m used to.”
“Curves are a gift. Use at will.” She flirtatiously raised a shoulder. “I love Escada. Saw that one on the catwalk in New York.”
I looked down at my shimmering dress and admired it.
She let out a sigh. “Tobias’s such a mystery.”
I went to tell her I was hoping to get him to reveal more about himself but thought better of it. “He’s incredibly kind.”
“Where did you meet?”
“At The Otillie.” I pointed to the bowl. “I’m an art specialist but this kind of thing is a little out of my league.”
“Paintings?”
“Yes.”
“Hugo has a few. He has a thing for Picasso.”
“Does he own one?”
“Yes.” She scrunched up her face. “It’s silly. But he loves it. A dog. I could have drawn it and he could have paid me millions instead.”
“It’s a sausage dog.” I shrugged. “Probably.”
“Hugo says it’s worth a fortune.”
“How long have you been married?”
“Ten years. I was beginning my modeling career and he saved me.”
“You didn’t like it?”
“I love cheese more.” She grinned. “I love cheddar. Brie.” She caught her tongue between her teeth.
“Hugo seems lovely.”
“He’s adorable. Lets me do whatever I like. You know, within limits.”
It was nice to see her happy.
“He lets me play.” She pouted and stepped toward me. “Do you play?”
“Um...” Tennis came to mind but I’d never been any good at it.
Then I realized—
She came closer. “I can’t get over how pretty you are.”
“I thought that when I first saw you.”
She captured me with her gaze, her dreamy aura proving she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. I imagined Hugo kept her on a tight leash.
A sigh escaped her lips...
She closed the gap between us. “Would you like some snow?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t do anything like that.”
Her body pressed against mine. “Zara, such a pretty name.” Her lips brushed mine. A flit of her tongue.
A wave of confliction as I feared offending her.
“I’m not—” I rested my hands above her chest and gave her a gentle nudge.
“There you are,” said Tobias.
Violet stepped back and she looked back coyly at him. “Hello.”
He strolled on in with his usual confidence. “Girl-on-girl action? And you started without me?”
I stood frozen, mortified.
He gave a cute smile. “I followed the exquisite scent of Obsession.”
My perfume; the one gifted to me by him back at the hotel.
Perhaps this was his way of expressing how he felt about me, my beautiful, unfathomable Tobias.
He neared me and wrapped his arm around my waist and jerked me toward his firm chest, his hand sliding down my spine and continuing beneath my dress. He clutched a butt cheek and held me firmly against him.
I yelped as his hand squeezed my arse and he pressed his mouth to mine, kissing fiercely, controlling and giving me no choice but to surrender.
He pulled away and smiled. “Remember, we talked about this, baby. I. Don’t. Share.” He looked over at Violet. “But if you want to play with yourself while we watch, Violet, by all means.”
“Tobias.” I bit my lip.
Violet raised her chin proudly.
“You know I adore you, Violet.” He stared at me as though I was the culprit. “But I’m the jealous kind.”
“I’m not allowed to play with men.” She arched a sexy brow. “You know that.”
“Well, it’s been fun, but Zara has to be up early.” He let me go and strolled over to Violet and reached for her hand.
She raised it and smiled sweetly.
He kissed the back of it. “See you in Utah, Vi.”
“Can’t wait.” She winked at me.
Tobias wrapped his arm around my waist and led me out. We headed back down the hallway toward the foyer.
I let out a deep sigh. “Still trying to work out what happened in there.”
He nudged me against the wall and trapped me there. “Don’t disappear like that again. Understand?”
A jolt of exhilaration made me shudder. “I was trying to avoid—”
His lips crushed mine, his body firm and unrelenting, his cock digging into my abdomen. “Zara, see what kind of trouble you get into when you leave my side.” He broke into a wide grin.
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