The Sculptor's Seduction (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Sloane slid off the bed, his body moving towards her of its own volition. Sunlight illuminated her body from behind and she glowed in its soft warmth. She was like a goddess nymph who let him defy gravity so long as he only rose to meet her lips.

  “You are so beautiful when you dance,” he whispered, his mouth inches from hers. His body was floating in a sea of desire and as his mouth moved to hers. Sloane knew that his body was at her command. He knew that today he had lost the battle for restraint and that her mouth would be on him again. Only later would he try to justify the cost for that exquisite pleasure.

  His lips barely touched hers when there was a soft knocking at the door. He sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring. The knocking persisted, followed by his name coming from Tristan’s mouth.

  “Shit,” he cursed, pulling away from her as he walked over to his door and yanked it open.

  “Hey, Sloane.” Tristan greeted him with a smile. “I was hoping I would catch you this morning before you left. I never know when you’re here or at your studio. I need to talk to you about the ‘Bridge’ situation with the Guild and—” He stopped abruptly, noticing Sloane’s tensed lips and ‘shut-up’ stare. A split-second of taking in the entire situation allowed comprehension to dawn over Tristan’s features, seeing Cyn standing in the background.

  Sloane glanced over his shoulder and saw her watching them curiously – no doubt because of what Tristan had been about to say.

  Shit.

  “Oh, hi Cynthia. I… ahh… I didn’t see you there. I didn’t expect…” Tristan broke off again, shaking his head and trying to come up with an appropriate thing to day. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I guess turnabout is fair play, right Sloane?” He gave a weak laugh, trying to lighten the situation by recalling the time Sloane had burst into Tristan’s apartment when he and Ellie were… busy.

  “It’s fine,” Sloane said tensely. “This is important.” And it was a Hail Mary escape from the high that Cyn was leading him towards again; he needed this intervention.

  “I can go,” Cyn offered, crossing her arms over her chest, just remembering that she didn’t have her dress on – instead, only Sloane’s semi-transparent shirt. “I have some stuff I should probably take care of today…”

  Sloane turned towards her. His entire body roared to slam the door in Tristan’s face, hoist that delicious vixen over his shoulders, and drop her in his bed, informing her that the only thing she needed to take care of today was his throbbing arousal.

  Instead, he walked closer to her, saying softly, “Sorry, Cyn. Looks like I have to deal with some stuff about that theft I was telling you about.” She nodded, the smile that came to her face was forced; she didn’t want to leave either. “I’ll call you later.”

  He walked over to the counter, reaching in his jacket pocket and bring back to her a handful of things. “Here’s the keycard and key to the studio if you want to go back over. It’s yours; don’t make me say it again.” He warned her lightly.

  He felt a small breath of relief as genuine delight blossomed on her face, only marginally reducing the guilt he felt for leaving her.

  It’s for her own good.

  “Let me just throw a shirt on, Tris,” Sloane said even though his eyes never left Cyn’s.

  “No rush,” Tristan mumbled, trying not to stare at the two of them.

  Sloane turned and walked back into his room, Cyn following not far behind, taking her dress into the bathroom to change.

  “Just take my key with you, in case you need to get back in here for any reason,” he yelled through the door.

  She needed to get back here because she belonged here with him; it wasn’t any reason – it was the only reason.

  But he wisely kept himself from saying it. Grabbing his spare set of keys, he stalked out of his apartment, closing the door behind him.

  Tristan just stared blankly at him as he walked past.

  “Don’t.”

  “How long you planning on staying silent and brooding? Because I’ve got all day before we talk about this painting situation,” Tristan said as they walked out of their apartment building. “Sorry, man. I know you like to be a closed book, but I just walked in to a woman in your apartment and, shit, I don’t even think Ellie has made it in there.”

  Sloane grimaced as they walked into the Starbucks next door.

  “What’s the big deal?” he said, trying to play it off. “This is what we do: find models and then sleep with them.”

  Tristan had the nerve to laugh. “Yeah, maybe Pierce and I. But I know that’s not you. Seriously, Sloane, you can talk to me.” His tone lost all of its humor. “You saved me months ago when I almost destroyed my relationship with Ellie.”

  Their conversation paused while they ordered their drinks, resuming when they made it back out onto the sidewalk.

  “What changed?” Sloane asked. “What happened that made you realize that being with Ellie was worth it even if she did have cancer?”

  Tristan looked startled for a moment, but then slowly began to answer in the hopes that Sloane would return the gesture. “I was dealing with a business merger and the gentleman whose company I was buying shared with me a story about his son. The Sparknotes version? I was living in fear – fear of tragedy and fear of hurt. I don’t know that it’s quite the same for you, but Sloane, living in fear isn’t living.”

  Except he wasn’t afraid of being hurt by Cyn; he was afraid that he would be the one doing the hurting. He was protecting her.

  Sloane sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on with Cynthia and me. Everything just seems different with her, including myself, and I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing.”

  “Well, it seems like a good thing to me,” Tristan interjected with a smile. “You don’t have to share if you don’t want, but I’m just glad to see that you’ve let someone in… even if it’s just into your apartment.” He chuckled. “It’d be a damn shame if you were just stuck with Pierce and me for the rest of your life.”

  Sloane couldn’t help but crack a smile at that. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk about his past with his friends, it’s just that there was nothing they could do about it except feel sorry for him. And that was the last thing he wanted. He’d seen therapists. He’d gone through the motions. But just because he didn’t blame himself and was no longer incredibly angry and brooding, didn’t mean that his past hadn’t taught him a lesson. Therapy could help manage his emotions, but it couldn’t change his genetics.

  What if he was genetically programmed like his father?

  The thought made him nauseous, which is why it was the rational thing to do to avoid finding out. He didn’t need a shrink to tell him that.

  “I don’t give a shit what Pierce says,” Tristan continued. “The man lives in fear of feeling and, at one time, I did too. And I can tell you, from being on both sides of that fence, trying to cage your emotions and just pass through life care-free is like choosing to live on life support. What changed is that life with Ellie made me realize that my life before her was no life at all; it may have been a life, but I wasn’t really living it.”

  Sloane gulped as Tristan spoke words that it seemed like he, himself, had written; it wasn’t a good sign.

  “What’s going on with the painting?” He attempted to move the conversation onto a different path.

  “Ana thinks it’s in London.” They turned into Central Park. “She thought that whomever had it was bringing it here, but with the increased airport security going on in the U.S., her sources think that the seller is going to try to move it from London in the next month or so.”

  “So, she’s going back over there?”

  Tristan nodded. “Her, Pierce, and Morgan. They leave in three weeks.”

  “I see. What can I do?”

  “You can talk to Pierce.”

  Sloane paused to stare at his friend. “I know that he did or said something, because that’s what he does. He wouldn’t tell me w
hat. Now this is really starting to become like deja-vu, but he wants to apologize.” Tristan sighed, tossing his coffee cup in a garbage can as they continued to walk. “No, he didn’t tell me that, but it’s clear that he’s hurting – both because of this whole painting shit and because of whatever happened between the two of you.”

  “He took me to the Paradise,” Sloane blurted out.

  “The strip club?” He nodded. “Why would he—”

  “Because Cyn is the main attraction.” Tristan’s eyes bulged out of his head.

  “I didn’t… realize that she was a… ahh… dancer.” He cleared his throat.

  “She is a dancer, but she didn’t tell me she was a stripper. Pierce took me there when they were filming a commercial. So, I found out by seeing her slide down a pole. I guess Pierce must have thought it would be amusing.”

  “Pierce…” Tristan grumbled, shaking his head. “Hey, you did better than me – at least you didn’t punch him.”

  No, he didn’t because he wasn’t sure if he would have been able to stop.

  “Yeah, it was tempting,” he bit out.

  “I’m going to give you the same advice that you gave me – Pierce is an ass, but I know that he’s your friend and I can see that he realizes that his little prank went too far. Just don’t let him punish himself for too long…” Tristan clapped him on the back.

  Sloane nodded, looking off into the park. “I gave Cyn space in one of my buildings so that she could open up her own dance studio.” He didn’t know why he was telling Tristan this. Something about talking to Cyn last night about his mom now made him want to share things he would normally assume no one would care about.

  “Seriously? That’s great! Wait until I… Wait, can I tell Ellie?” He waited for Sloane to nod before continuing. “What type of dance will she teach?”

  “Ballet. Maybe something else, I actually don’t know.” Sloane frowned, wondering if she did other styles of dance as well. “I know she went to Juilliard for ballet.”

  “That’s impressive. Ellie is going to be so excited and she will definitely want to take a class. Although, she is probably the most uncoordinated person I have ever met.” He laughed. “Perfect, but uncoordinated.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “Are you going in as part of the business? Like with venture capital? Or just the space?”

  They turned and began walking back towards One57 that towered over the other buildings in the vicinity.

  “Honestly, I haven’t even thought about it.” What would that mean – being a part of her business? Would she even want him to be? What it would mean is that he would be tied to her for longer than his sculpture took him and that would be a problem.

  Unless someone dismembered him between now and then.

  He grimaced at the suggestion.

  “Well, if you don’t, I will,” Tristan replied, half-joking, but Sloane knew that Tris was always looking for a good investment and if he ever saw Cyn dance, he would know that her studio would be one.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  A crazy part of him hoped that she would still be there by the time he got back, but as soon as he walked in the door he knew she was gone. Like one of his pieces of marble before he sculpted it, his apartment was stark and lonely without her presence to bring it to life.

  Pulling out his phone, he opened up a text to her.

  - Sorry about earlier.

  ~ It’s ok. Everything with the studio is making my mind crazy so it was good for me to go home and have a chance to start looking at details. I left the lease signed on the counter.

  - We can go over there tomorrow if you’d want to take a look again and let me know if anything would need to be changed in terms of flooring, walls, etc.

  ~ Ellie just called and asked if I would show her and Ana the studio tomorrow. She’s excited to see it… I guess Tristan told her about the studio…

  Of course, Tristan wouldn’t wait until he got home to tell his fiancé.

  - Ok. Next weekend then?

  ~ I have work next weekend. But as long as it’s earlier in the day.

  - Work at the Paradise? I thought you were leaving.

  Sloane felt anger ignite inside of him like gasoline. What had he expected? That he’d hand her a studio and suddenly she didn’t need to strip anymore?

  ~ Yes…

  He stared at the screen, his vision sparking red. He didn’t want her in that life anymore, except he wasn’t in a position to make that kind of demand.

  - Let me know if you think of anything that you want in the space and I will get it for next weekend.

  Shoving his phone in his pocket, he looked up into his empty apartment and all he saw was Cyn – in his kitchen, cooking on his stove, up against his window staring at the sunset, dancing as the sun rose with long, black hair flowing like a cloud around her.

  The door slammed behind him as he left. He’d been heading to his studio anyway but, more than before, he needed to get away from his memories. At least at his studio, he could pretend that the woman he carved was his.

  Chapter 18

  “Oh, wow, Cyn! This is beautiful!” Ellie gushed and Ana murmured in agreement as Cyn led them both into the studio the following day. When Ellie had told her that this is what they wanted to do, her excitement had been contagious. Cyn had wanted to invite Tash; except Tash had been MIA all weekend.

  Then again, so had she. For the most part.

  Her roommate had been curiously absent for the past few days and when Cyn had texted her to check in, her responses ranged from one to five words – all to say that she had something to take care of and would be back later in the week. The lack of communication hadn’t sat well with her, but calls went to voicemail and messages, well, those were the only responses that she got. Cyn told herself that it was fine; sometimes Tash did go off the grid for a few days to kind of collect her thoughts about life – or something along those lines.

  “This is a really amazing space. Your studio is going to be incredible,” Ana offered, pulling Cyn’s thoughts from her other friend.

  She felt heat rising to her cheeks. It definitely had felt weird, walking into this building again without Sloane. She’d smiled at the security guard who had been there yesterday; even though the older gentleman had recognized her, she still felt that she was somehow trespassing and could be thrown out any moment.

  Leading the other girls into the room was both surreal and a moment of perfect clarity. Cyn never thought she would have her studio this soon… or in this kind of space. Verbalizing it – saying the words: “So, this is going to be my studio” – solidified the moment in her mind.

  “And Sloane just gave this to you yesterday?” Ellie asked and Cyn nodded in response. “Wow. I told you… you have broken through to him.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She sighed, thinking back to their abruptly-ended text conversation yesterday morning. “Sometimes, like two nights ago, I felt that way; but then other times, I feel like I’ve only taken one step forward to take two steps back.”

  Ellie spun in the space. “Can you teach us something?” she asked, enthusiastically. “I’ll warn you, I’m not very coordinated; Ana should be just fine though.”

  Cyn laughed. “Sure. We’ll just start with the basic ballet positions.” She moved her feet into first position and waited for them to follow suit. “So, how long are you in town for Ana?” She couldn’t remember what the woman had said when she met her the other week.

  “Well, I had thought I’d be sticking around for a little while, but it looks like I’m headed back to London in a few weeks to follow up on a potential case,” she murmured as Cyn approached her.

  “I’ve never been to London. It must be nice to travel all the time.” Cyn replied, coming up next to the sun-kissed brunette. “Did you always want to be an art-crimes investigator?”

  Ana’s gaze dropped for a moment and her arms hugged herself as her hand zipped her track jacket up further. “No.
I had other dreams, but you know, life happens. I signed up for my department because it required travelling – and lots of it; I needed to get away.”

  Most people when they say that they need to ‘get away’ just mean that they need a break from what they are used to. When Ana said it, her tone suggested a much more menacing reason – that she didn’t need to ‘get away’ so much as ‘run away’.

  The woman looked petrified now that she’d said too much so Cyn quickly changed the topic. “For these positions, you’ll want to place your arms in front of you like this…” She performed the motion, watching as Ana tried to mimic it.

  The other woman’s arms were out too far, so without thinking, Cyn reached out to touch her elbows and move them in. As soon as she touched Ana’s arms, the woman flinched slightly. Cyn wouldn’t have paid any attention to it, but then her hands shifted to Ana’s back to push her chest out and as soon as she touched the back of the woman’s left shoulder, Ana broke the entire position; she jumped back from her like she’d been struck.

  Both Ellie and Cyn stared at her, Ana’s eyes wide with fear and embarrassment. “I… ahh… sorry. I’m very ticklish,” was her only excuse and even though neither of them believed it, neither did they know her well enough to question it, as Ana clutched her already closed jacket tighter over her.

  “I’m sorry.” Cyn apologized anyway. “Maybe it’s me. I swear, sometimes Sloane jumps just as far when I touch him.” She hadn’t meant to blurt out her insecurities; she’d only wanted to smooth over the situation, but her subconscious had other ideas.

  “What do you mean?” Ellie asked, dropping her pose to rest her hand on Cyn’s arm. “I thought you said you’d made progress. Tristan told me that you were in his apartment; he never brings anyone there. I’ve never even been there.”

  Cyn bit her lip, hesitant to embrace the hope that bloomed in her chest. She turned towards the windows that let in the warm afternoon light.