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

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  What had she done?

  Cyn wanted to scream at herself; she wanted to cry. Instead, she got off the elevator and walked back into Terri’s apartment with a brave, collected face on because she knew that Tash needed her right now. She would see Sloane later.

  “What happened?” Tash murmured as she walked back in the room. Terri was sitting on the bed, too, and he turned to look inquisitively at her.

  “Nothing,” Cyn assured her friend with a quickly forced smile. “How are you doing? Can I get you anything?”

  Tash looked at her like she didn’t believe her, but she said nothing further. “I think I should probably take another one of those pain pills they gave me at the hospital. And maybe some tea.”

  “I’ll get it for you, darling,” Terri interjected, exiting the room to leave the girls alone for a moment.

  “What’s wrong, Cyn?”

  “Nothing! I’m fine,” she said as tear collected in her eyes. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

  Tash rolled her… one… eye; the other one was still swollen shut. “Don’t lie to me, Cyn. Not now. I don’t care that I look like I got run over by a steam roller, I’m still your friend. And shit, right now, I could use something to get my mind off of my disaster of a life.”

  Cyn grimaced, wanting to argue with her, but she knew there was no point. She would do whatever her friend asked.

  “It’s Sloane…” she began. In all honestly, she thought she was going to say that there was something wrong, that something had upset him, that she had upset him. Instead, all that came out was, “I’m in love him.”

  They both looked at each other, startled, for a second before Tash blurted out, “Are you kidding me?!” Her face made its best attempt to smile. “I’m so happy for you, Cyn.”

  “Yeah, except I feel like I’m ruining everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cyn took a seat on the bed. “He’s been through a lot – way more damaging than what Marcus did to me – and every time I go to connect further with him, I always go for the physical first.”

  “I don’t understand. Why is that a problem?”

  She sighed deeply. “I was his first, Tash. His dad cheated horribly on his mom and he was afraid that he’d end up like him, so he’d never slept with a woman before.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Terri’s exclamation came from behind her.

  She peeked at him over her shoulder, giving him a look that said if he wanted her to keep talking, he needed to keep the dramatic commentary to himself.

  “Wow… I don’t even know how to respond to that,” Tash said.

  “Anyway… he was actually interested in me – not sex, not my body – from the start; I don’t know that that’s happened before and that’s why I was drawn to him… because he wanted what was deeper inside.” She felt a tear slip down her cheek. “I think I believed that if I could make him give into his desire, I would finally absolve myself from the belief that Marcus instilled in me – that my appearance only entitles me to a certain level of relationship.”

  “Oh, honey…”

  She continued because if she stopped now, she knew the tears would start. “But, I didn’t think about what it would do to him. First last night and now this morning, I pushed and pushed and pushed… and I think I pushed too far; something was wrong and instead of patiently trying to help him through it, I tried to short-cut my way in.” Another drop broke free, rushing down her cheek.

  “Cyn.” Tash cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea. “I think I can speak for Terri and I – although I’m sure he’ll still add in his own thoughts – when I tell you that I have a lot of experience with transient, superficial relationships. I know what they feel like; I know what they look like – I can spot them from a mile away.” She took another sip. “In order to be able to do that, I also have to know what the real thing looks like. And hun, the way he looks at you – the way he treats you – is the real thing.”

  Cyn shook her head; she didn’t want to believe it because she was afraid she might have just ruined it.

  “Terri told me about how he gave you your new studio – your dream. On top of that, he came here this morning and offered to help me, someone he barely knows, in a way that he did not have to. He’s out there now making his friends take me in and take me with them. He’s checking on our apartment and I would bet every cent I own that he is going to do whatever it takes to get Julian behind bars and get me back here with you guys.”

  She couldn’t help but nod at that; she knew Sloane wouldn’t rest until Tash was safe.

  “If you think that he’s doing all of that for me or out of the pure goodness of his heart… well, you better not be that naïve.” That drew a small laugh from her lips. “What he feels for you is very, very real… and those types of feelings aren’t pushed away that easily. What he felt for you in order to do all of this… to have sex with you in spite of his past, something that has kept him away from every other woman, those feelings won’t go quietly. I know you think that you may have broken something, but love is much stronger than you give it credit for.”

  Cyn gave her a watery smile, mouthing ‘thank you’ before Terri enveloped her in the hug that Tash was unable to give her.

  “Love is what he feels for you, by the way.” Tash smirked and Cyn laughed against Terri’s shoulder.

  “Ok.” Terri put up his hands. “You know I can’t not say anything. First, I cannot believe he was a virgin! Oh my word girl, you must have had fun with that. Second, Tash is totally right. He literally looked right through me earlier to stay focused on you. No one looks right through me. Just kidding… I knew this forever ago, specifically, the second he had his hands wrapped around Mr. Lane’s throat. That man would kill for you… die for you… and, apparently, have sex for you.”

  Cyn playfully smacked him.

  “Seriously, whatever happened you’ll work it out. The way he looks at you won’t give him any other choice.”

  He pulled up a photo of Julian Sanchez on his phone, trying to give himself something to look at other than the image of Cyn’s face in the elevator. The name had sounded familiar to him and now that he put a face to it, he knew who it was.

  Julian Sanchez did many things – most of them probably illegal – but he did purchase real estate from time to time. He knew this because RSP and Sanchez had bid on the same commercial building near the harbor about a year ago. Even though it was a great investment property, Sloane had actually let it go because Sanchez had pushed the price way over what the building was worth… Unless one was planning on using them to smuggle in drugs; then, the expense was probably worth it.

  The driver pulled up in front of the address Cyn had texted him – the only thing she’d texted him. He ignored his gut clenching. Taking a moment before getting out of the car, Sloane surveyed the street. He was no spy, that was for sure, but there were two black, Chevy Tahoe XLs parked across the street. He might not have normally thought them anything out of the ordinary except that they were the exact same make and model and they were parked in front of a sign that said ‘No Parking’. Whoever was in those cars didn’t care about a ticket or being towed; all they cared about was watching this building and Sloane had a pretty good idea what – or who – for. He stepped out of the car and walked inside knowing that he wouldn’t be of any interest to them.

  Making his way to the fourth floor, Sloane cautiously approached Tash and Cyn’s apartment.

  The doorknob was busted.

  He paused at the door and listened, but heard no signs of movement inside. Whoever had been there had left already, probably sometime last night when they realized that Tash had found somewhere else to go.

  He pushed the door open and entered the apartment slowly. Immediately inside the door, everything in the kitchen and living room still seemed intact and undisturbed. He walked down the hall to the bedrooms; now, they were a different story. He didn’t know whose was whose, but they were both destroyed. It was like
Sanchez wanted Tash to come home and think everything was ok until she got back to her room only to realize that he had been there.

  He quickly snapped a few photos as evidence and to show the girls, but he doubted that anything had been taken from the apartment. No, this had been done to send the message: You are not safe. There is no place for you to hide.

  He was about to walk from the room when something caught his eye on the floor by the closet. They’d torn the box from the upper shelf and it had spilled onto the floor, light pink silk shimmering from underneath it.

  Sloane moved the lid to find Cyn’s pointe shoes. Even though they looked well-worn, he knew she hadn’t worn them in a while; he took them with him anyway.

  Cyn wasn’t safe, either.

  Even if Tash left, they’d go after Cyn to find out where her roommate had gone. Rage boiled through him at the merest thought of someone touching his woman.

  Except she’s not his. And if she was, would they hurt her worse than he had?

  He pulled out his phone – one thing at a time. Tash was the priority right now and Cyn wouldn’t have it any other way, which meant that he had to call the one person he was not on good terms with right now.

  He hadn’t spoken to Pierce since that night, unless you count seeing him at the Guild’s meeting. Normally, like when Tristan had punched him, Pierce would be all about making him feel guilty or taunting him for his ‘feelings’ for Cyn. The fact that he’d responded to the night with silence meant that he knew that he’d fucked up big time.

  “Sloane?” The raspy voice answered, laced with surprise and intrigue.

  “Meet me at my place in fifteen.”

  Normally, this would be the part where Pierce became nosey, impertinent, or, at the very least, an ass. Instead he replied, “See you soon” and hung up.

  He tried not to think about her on the way to his place. He tried not to think about her as he walked inside the door. He tried not to remember her dancing in front of the giant windows as the sun rose.

  He tried and failed.

  And pretty soon, he was anxiously awaiting that asshole’s arrival for no other reason than it would take his mind off of the woman he wanted but couldn’t have.

  The knock on his door had Sloane practically jogging over to open it; Pierce’s scarred, frowning face greeted him.

  “Pierce.” He moved out of the way so that the other man could enter.

  “Sloane, we need—” Pierce began, but Sloane cut him off.

  “No. First, I need to talk; what you did can wait.”

  A look of surprise spread over the man’s dark and dangerously handsome face; he wasn’t expecting that. He thought Sloane had called him here to talk about what had happened at the Paradise.

  “Will I need a drink for this?” He walked cautiously into the apartment, his eyes lingering for an extra moment on the pair of pointe shoes that Sloane had set on the counter when he’d come home before.

  “Only if you brought one with you. You know I don’t have anything here.”

  “You know I’m always prepared.” Pierce smirked and pulled out a flask from his inside-jacket pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a long sip. “Alright, what did you call me here for then?”

  “You’re taking Tash to London with you.” He didn’t mince words – there was no time for that.

  Pierce’s eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?” And then, “Who the hell is Tash?”

  Sloane felt his jaw clench, not surprised by Pierce’s question, but also not pleased how his ‘friend’ treated women so carelessly sometimes.

  “Tash. Cynthia’s friend. You know, the woman you took home only a few weeks ago. Do you really not remember?”

  “I’ve taken a lot of women home in the past few weeks, Sloane. Forgive me for not being all high-and-mighty enough to remember each one specifically.” Pierce raised an eyebrow as he took another sip from the flask. “Petite? Blonde hair? Big boobs?” Sloane nodded curtly. “I’m starting to remember,” he said, a smile spreading up his face. “We had a real good time; then again, I always do.” The smile fell. “So, tell me why the hell I am taking her to London with me?

  Sloane took a seat at one of the counter stools, picking up the butterfly figure and toying with it absentmindedly.

  “She’s in danger,” he began. “She got involved with Julian Sanchez and realized he’s been smuggling drugs.”

  Pierce’s face hardened. There were very, very few things in life that made him this serious or this angry; one of them was drugs. Contrary to the rest of his character, drugs were the one indulgence that Pierce stayed far away from.

  Sloane didn’t know what happened, but he had a feeling that whatever caused his aversion had to do with the almost six-inch scar that ran up the side of his neck and just peeked out onto his face. The scar extended much further down onto his chest, but Sloane had only seen it a handful of times; Pierce always tried to keep it covered – too many questions he didn’t want to answer.

  “He beat the shit out of her Pierce. Her ankle is broken. If you remembered her, you wouldn’t recognize her.”

  “Fuck,” Pierce cursed, taking another sip from his flask.

  Sloane continued, “Cyn picked her up at the hospital yesterday and took her somewhere safe, but until he is arrested, he will be looking for her.” He shook his head. “No, he is looking for her. I went to their apartment this morning; lock was busted, rooms torn apart. I don’t think anything was taken… I don’t think that was the point.”

  “Fucking fuck.” The flask slammed down on the countertop. “So, you want me to take her to London and hope that the authorities will find Sanchez before we come back.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Pierce exhaled. “Which Sanchez was it?”

  How did he know there were more than one? Sloane furrowed his brow as he answered, “Julian.”

  A brief nod, then, “The youngest son.”

  “You know of them?”

  Somehow Pierce’s eyes got even blacker. “I met his father. Once.” His tone implied that that was all he was going to say about that encounter. “Is she alright with going?”

  “Yes. Cyn said she doesn’t really have anyone else besides her friends in the city. I told them that I’d bring you back with me and you could take her over to stay with Morgan and Ana. Figured Ana would be able to loan her some clothes and help take care of her.”

  “What about Cyn?”

  Sloane’s fist clenched around the figure at Pierce’s use of her nickname. “She’s not safe either. I don’t know if Sanchez knows who she is, but he knows Tash had a roommate, which means that he will find out eventually.”

  Pierce’s eyes widened as he looked at Sloane. “Is she going to stay here with you?”

  “No.” She couldn’t. He couldn’t. “I’ll worry about Cyn.”

  “Fuck, Sloane,” Pierce swore again, his hands came to push against the edge of the countertop, his body tense again. “I’m sorry about the other night.”

  Silence.

  “I thought it would be… entertaining. Didn’t fucking realize how you felt about her.” Black granite met blue steel as their eyes met. “I went too far.”

  “Don’t—” Sloane sighed, seeing how difficult it was for his friend to apologize; he knew that he’d messed up. Sloane had no interest in making him suffer for it – it looked like he was doing a good enough job of it on his own.

  “No!” Pierce interrupted loudly. “Just let me fucking finish. I need to do this.” He took a deep breath. “Bringing you there, knowing that you probably didn’t know that she worked there, was fucked up and I’m sorry. Hell, I should have cut the entire thing as soon as I saw your face when you realized it was her; it’s inexcusable. If it’s any consolation, the guy she was dancing for is gay.”

  Well, that did ease a small amount of the discomfort at the memory. “Pierce, it’s fine. Just leave it.”

  “Sloane. I’m not going to just leave it. It wasn’t just t
he way you looked at her; I saw the way you looked at me. The rage and hatred on your face was worse than when I pulled you off of your scumbag father in college; so, it is not fucking fine. You should have strangled me or at the very least punched me.” He let out a disgusted laugh and shook his head, draining the remaining contents of the flask.

  Sloane stared at the figurine in his hand, his jaw clenching as memories flashed through his mind.

  After his mom died, he’d lived with one of their neighbors who used to watch him from time to time. They were good people, but he’d been a quiet and reserved child after everything that had happened. His father, well, the last Sloane saw of his father was as he drove away in the blonde woman’s Miata that morning… until college.

  Senior year, he walked out of class heading towards the art studio where he’d met Pierce the year before. Just before he entered the building, someone called his name. As he turned, the face that he saw was an older version of the one that had been flaming on the stove, used as tinder for the fire that destroyed his home.

  Sloane couldn’t remember if the man said his name… if he said anything. All he knew was that he charged him and took him to the ground. Punch after punch, he saw red as he pummeled his father’s face, saying repeatedly, “You killed her!”

  Sloane would have probably killed him if Pierce hadn’t come out and pulled him off of the man, pushing him back and holding him up against the wall of the building while someone else called nine-one-one.

  “Pull your shit together, Sloane,” Pierce whispered harshly, trying to capture his attention. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I want to kill him; I want to kill him for what he did.” He remembered saying.

  “Well, you fucking can’t, Sloane. You hear me?” Pierce shook him violently. “Restrain your goddamn anger and burn it as fuel.”

  And that was what he had done. He’d let Pierce lead him inside and he never saw his father again after that day. In some ways, Pierce had saved his life. If he hadn’t pulled him off, he probably would have killed him; he’d never felt a rage like that before. Not until the other night with Pierce.