6 Dirty Secrets: A Tease Novel

by Alexis Anne

  I bit my lip as I pondered the risk. At some point it would be worth it, wouldn’t it? The possibility of escape would be valuable enough that I’d be willing to take the punishment if I failed.

  “I need to shake my bodyguards and disappear fast enough that Father can’t catch me before I leave the country.”

  I realized Darcy wasn’t breathing anymore. His heart still thudded from his chest into mine, but there was no more rise or fall of his lungs. Then he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Then we best start making plans.”

  * * *

  I’ve never been more nervous than the night of my art show. Walking into that gallery and seeing all my work on display was the most exhilarating and terrifying moment of my life. It didn’t help that I was dressed to the nines in a classic black party dress, some of the most expensive jewels in the Sutherland family collection, and my hair perfectly coiffed.

  There was also the small matter of my insecurities. On the one hand I still believed that I was a talented artist. At art school I was praised for being unique, different, and insightful. But there were those doubts that lingered in the back of my mind, especially since I’d never really had an opportunity to prove myself. Add on the fact that I was stone cold sober and had Ian and Father’s doubts shouting in the back of mind.

  And let’s not even get me started on Ian.

  I had no solution to my impending engagement, no power to break up, and an overwhelming desire to spend every waking moment of every day with Darcy.

  “Are you ready for this?” Jenni asked, smiling at me.

  My nerves skyrocketed. “As ready as I can be.”

  “Good. I have two overeager clients who I had to talk off the ledge. I’m hoping I’ll be able to pull you away to meet them at some point during the party.”

  Talk off the ledge? What on earth did that mean? “Of course. Just tell me where to be and what to do and I’m there.”

  Her grin widened. “Be careful what you agree to. These two are absolutely in love with your work. We may need to call security.”

  Her laugh said she was joking, but there was a serious edge to her words that only made my nerves worse. I had absolutely no clue what to expect out of the night but I had big hopes and even bigger worries.

  “Well let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  She gave me a funny look, but didn’t comment. From there the night went by in a blur of handshakes smiles and mild panic attacks. Ian was attentive but in an overbearing, possessive, domineering kind of way. Father was distant as always, and Theo was busy flirting with every pretty girl in the building. But he was supportive. He went on and on about how amazingly talented I was and how proud he was to see me find my calling.

  “Thank you Theo. That means a lot to me.”

  He pressed a kiss to my cheek. “I mean every word. You’re every bit as smart as I am and as talented as Michael. You could rule the whole world if you set your mind to it.”

  Michael wandered in and out of the show often leaving through the back door. I think he’d taken a liking to one of the ladies at the party and was planning to sneak away for some fun. He was also trying his damnedest to stay as far away from father as humanly possible and I really couldn’t blame him for that, but it would have been nice to spend some time with my oldest brother.

  That was when Jenni led me toward a stunningly handsome man in the middle of the room. I say stunning because his features were so striking it was almost as if he were a work of art. He wasn’t tall and broad and muscular like the men I had become so accustomed to in my life—Theo was six-foot-two and very intimidating, Higgins was a very tall six-feet and he was very much an intimidating presence—so to walk up to this man and feel a gut reaction that he was gorgeous and handsome and probably no more than five-foot-ten drew my curiosity.

  Jenni bounced beside me. “This is Dominic Mangini. He has become a huge fan of your work this week.” Was Jenni blushing? I think she was.

  When Dominic smiled his eyes sparkled. “I want them all but Jennifer tells me I must wait. I purchased three and I am waiting nervously to see if I will have an opportunity to buy any more.”

  He must be a friend of Ian’s.

  That was my first thought and while I knew it was pathetic I also knew I was most likely right.

  “That is very generous of you, Mr. Mangini, but where will you put it all?” The vast majority of my work was on six-foot canvases.

  “My house here of course, but I was hoping to display The Dancer in Darkness in my home in Paris, and Moonlight Walk at my family home in Italy.”

  “Dominic is an F1 driver,” Jenni explained quietly, “and quite the art enthusiast.”

  “I am not just an enthusiast,” he murmured, his voice a low sexy rumble. I got the impression I was watching a romance blooming. “My mother is Francesca Mangini. I have studied and practiced the art of painting my entire life.”

  My mouth fell open in shock. Francesca Mangini was one of my favorite artists. “She’s your mother?”

  His eyes warmed as he took me in. “She is. And in many ways your work reminds me of hers.”

  And that was quite possibly the greatest compliment of my life. And it came from the son of my idol. “Thank you,” I murmured.

  The interesting thing about Dominic was the way he looked at me. It was with a focused intensity, but not overwhelming. I had his complete attention. He didn’t look away or make small talk, just stood there and waited for me to absorb everything he was saying as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

  “Capturing emotion is a rare talent, Miss Sutherland. I most certainly cannot do it and I had an amazing teacher. You should be incredibly proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

  I stood very still because my brain was at war trying to pick out which parts were real. There was no way this was happening. I had to be hallucinating or dreaming. Maybe I was still home in bed and all of this was my most elaborate dream ever.

  That was when Ian stepped up beside me with a glass of water and I got a very visceral reminder that I was not asleep. Not even in my darkest days could I hate myself enough to dream up Ian’s condescending glare.

  I plastered on my fake smile and slid into my Nicole Sutherland armor. “Mr. Dominic Mangini, may I introduce you to Mr. Ian Clayton?”

  I watched as the two men shook hands with seemingly no spark of recognition whatsoever.

  Not a friend of Ian’s.

  Okay then. That theory went flying out the door.

  Dominic barely shook Ian’s hand before he turned back to me. “May I commission you to paint more?” he asked with a frown as a SOLD sign went up on the two paintings beside us.

  “Of course,” Ian replied without hesitation. “I would be happy to add you to the schedule.”

  Dominic’s eyes slid over to Ian and narrowed before snapping back to me. “Since it looks like you’ll be sold out by the end of the night I will thank my lucky stars I was able to purchase three. I hope you’ll put me on the top of your list for your new work.”

  Ian leaned forward, completely ignoring me. “How many paintings would you like to commission?” he asked, apparently seeing dollar signs.

  Jenni visibly stiffened as Dominic practically hissed. “Exactly who are you, Mr. Ian Clayton? And why do you keep interrupting my conversation with Miss Sutherland?”

  Ian didn’t bat an eye as a cold smile slid over his lips. “I oversee Nicole’s finances.”

  Except that he didn’t. Not my art anyway. Sure, my trust fund was at his bank and yes, a portion of Sutherland Industries was run through there, but I handled my business and I made damn sure to put my money as far away from my father as possible.

  I put up my hands. “Ian is my boyfriend and when it comes to my work he gets very excited.”

  Dominic’s lips thinned as he pulled out a card and held it out to me, locking eyes as he spoke. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll set up a meeting to discuss the art I’d like to com
mission.” And then he jerked his chin toward Ian. “Don’t bring him. We shall meet here with Jennifer.” Then he bowed slightly, smiled graciously, and backed away.

  I had to hand it to the man—he was smooth. The air of confidence and refinement he held around his shoulders was the kind I wanted to have one day.

  “I should probably check on things,” Jenni murmured, eyes darting back and forth between Ian and me.

  Which left me stuck beside a brooding man who was not very happy.

  “You can’t meet with him.”

  Every muscle in my body locked in place. “Excuse me? You don’t dictate my work.”

  “Actually, I do. You’re mine and this art career is at my discretion. That man wants to sleep with you and I will not allow you to lead him on in the hopes of a sold painting. My future wife will not be known as a slut.”

  Every other word out of his mouth hurt. Mine. My discretion. Allow.

  Slut.

  “He doesn’t want to sleep with me, Ian.” I was pretty sure the only woman he had any interest in was Jenni. “He likes my work and he’s meeting me here, not alone in a dark café where he can seduce me. This is business. My business.”

  “This is sex,” he shot back, shoulders bristling as if the word sex was dirty. “If you think anything else you’re more delusional than I already thought.”

  I looked around the gallery at all the red SOLD signs, the smiling faces, the pointing fingers and whispered conversations and I knew, I knew that I was an artist. A damn good artist but his words still cut because my skin was so fragile. I needed armor to survive in this world—armor I didn’t have.

  Yet.

  “I need air,” I murmured and practically ran away.

  And like any normal, overwhelmed woman, I locked myself in the toilet and fidgeted with my hair.

  My hair that was up instead of down, the way I liked it.

  I was still young, on the cusp of twenty-three, and wearing my hair up all the time was strangling. I loved my hair. I always had. It was long and thick. Sometimes it was heavy and overwhelming, but mostly it was big and crazy. When I let it loose it was wild—like I swear my heart was deep underneath all the chains that held it so firmly in place.

  So, one pin at a time, I let it down. The pins echoed off the tile floor as I dropped them.

  I gave these men my life.

  I followed their rules. I wore the right clothes, said the right things.

  The least they could do was give me my fucking hair.

  I didn’t know how much longer I was going to have to pretend to love Ian or pretend that I was happy being my Father’s puppet, but at least I knew at the end of the tunnel was freedom and a man who would never, ever put me in a cage.

  Maybe it was foolish, but I’d started daydreaming about a life away from the Sutherland legacy—a life with Darcy.

  In those dreams my hair was always down, Darcy always smiled, and no one told what me what to think. I used to believe dreams like these were too painful. What was the sense in giving in to a fantasy I could never have?

  But now…now it seemed like a possibility. A possibility that was fun to dream about.

  When I stepped out of the bathroom I heard familiar voices and froze as my heart lodged itself in my throat. Why was Darcy talking to Ian? Alone?

  As quietly as I could, I slipped down the hallway toward the offices where the voices seemed to be carrying from. When I got close enough to hear them clearly I stopped and pressed my back against the wall, listening.

  “Do you honestly believe I care what you think?” Ian laughed.

  “You should,” Darcy shot back.

  “Nicole is none of your business. You have no standing here.”

  “She’s my friend. Has been for far longer than you’ve been around, fancy pants.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Ian scoffed.

  “It means I’ll break your face if you ever speak to her like that again.”

  There was silence and shuffling feet. “Let me make this perfectly clear, Higgins. I don’t care how much Donald pays you to be his muscle. I don’t care how entitled you feel you are. You’re nobody and Nicole is mine. I will treat her however she needs to be treated whenever I decide—”

  There was the raw sound of a fist hitting flesh and a body crumpling to the floor. I shot around the corner and found Darcy shaking out this fist as he stood over Ian.

  “You didn’t…” I gasped.

  “Of course I did. I’ve been waiting to do that for fucking weeks.”

  “You can’t knock him unconscious! There’ll be consequences, Darcy.”

  “Oh, there will be consequences,” he growled, eyes flashing.” The good kind.”

  “Darcy! Father will—”

  “Will nothing. I don’t work for him anymore.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I quit.”

  My mouth fell open but nothing came out. Darcy grinned and hiked Ian’s unconscious body up against the wall in a sitting position.

  “What are you doing?” Ian was seriously unconscious. This was insane.

  “I’m ending your engagement,” he grunted. “I need a glass of whiskey, or whatever it is this fucker drinks.” He carefully positioned Ian’s head. “Make it a double.”

  And because I was in shock and didn’t know what else to do, I followed his orders, scurrying out of the hallway in search of Ian’s favorite drink. I didn’t know how long Ian’s current state would last, but I couldn’t imagine it would be much longer and the fallout was not something I was looking forward to.

  “What are you up to?” Margaret was at my side in a flash.

  “Ordering Macallan’s.”

  “No, you’re up to something. I know that look.”

  The bartender slid me the highball full of expensive scotch and I grabbed both the glass and Margaret’s hand, dragging her back with me.

  Her mouth fell open at the site of Darcy and Ian. “What on earth?”

  He grinned, taking the glass and shooting half of it. “I didn’t say to bring back witnesses.”

  “I don’t even know what we’re doing.” I threw my hands in the air. This was madness.

  Margaret grinned. “You are a sneaky, brilliant bastard, Higgins.”

  He stuck his fingers in the alcohol and sprinkled drops of it all over Ian’s suit. Then down his neck, setting the nearly empty glass in his right hand on the floor.

  With a satisfied nod he stalked toward us with a gleam in his eyes. “Nicki, I think your brother could use some help in there. Margaret, have you ever showed Mrs. Brighton the architectural features of this hallway?”

  Mrs. Brighton? Architecture? “What the hell?”

  I was completely lost, but apparently I was on my own because Margaret grinned. “I think now is the perfect time.” The she hurried over to where Mrs. Brighton was chatting with Father while Darcy and I hung back in the shadows.

  “Won’t he have a bruise or a goose egg or something? No one is going to fall for this,” I whispered, already trying to come up with a plan to survive the fallout.

  He reached up and brushed my loose hair over my shoulder. “This is not my first show, darlin’. I know what I’m doing. Go get Theo.” He gave me a gentle push.

  Walking back into that reception was a little like walking into The Twilight Zone. My heart was everywhere. I was there but I wasn’t. I could see myself from above and through my own eyes, all at once.

  Honestly it was the closest thing to being high I’d felt since the last of the heroin left my system. It was a freaky experience and I was absolutely terrified.

  “He’s a disgrace!” Mrs. Brighton shrieked as she stormed out of the hallway with Margaret behind her. “A disgrace and a drunkard. Mr. Sutherland!” she huffed, locating my father and marching up to him.

  I watched as Father’s face fell and he motioned for his right hand man to follow him back. Five minutes later Father returned to the party alone. He scanned the room, h
is eyes falling on me. I pretended to be having a tense conversation with Margaret. I stood frozen to the floor while I waited for my punishment, but it never came.

  In fact, Father ignored me completely for the rest of the show—something he never did. He always watched me. When he was angry he did not wait to show me his wrath.

  This was…odd.

  “You, my dear, are officially sold out!” Jenni announced with a smile. “And I have a waiting list ten people deep. You, Nicki Sutherland, have arrived.”

  I didn’t think it was possible to feel so many emotions in one night, but here I was happy, scared, worried, anxious, and absolutely blown away. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Nope. Every single painting has an owner. Of course the show will stay up for the rest of the month and I expect your list of clients to grow significantly before your installation leaves.”

  “Let me guess, Dominic Mangini is at the top of the waiting list.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “If you want him to be the first I will happily move him there. He was very enthusiastic. I think you will have his support for years to come.”

  That blush on her face was adorable and it served as an excellent distraction from my own confusing thoughts. “How long have you known the handsome Formula 1 driver?”

  “I just met him tonight.” She looked everywhere but at me. She was so busted.

  “You like him.”

  “I don’t date drivers.”

  “Who said anything about dating?” I smiled, trying to get a rise out of her.

  She glared up at me. “I don’t do meaningless relationships, either.”

  “You know,” I chuckled, “that has to be one of the most polite and round about ways to say ‘hook up’ I’ve ever heard.”

  That earned me another glare and roll of her eyes. “I’m sure Dominic’s interest was purely situational.”

  Oh she had it so bad. “I’m going to have to disagree with you. I saw the way he looked at you and it was not the look of a man on the hunt for a fling.”

  That caught her interest. “What do you mean?”

  I scanned the thinning crowd until I spotted my brothers. “You see Theo over there? The way he’s grinning and working that poor woman over? Okay, maybe not poor. She actually seems pretty happy to flirt with Theo.”