The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Instead, she had to find out the day that Pierce brought Natasha over to her brother’s apartment for safe-keeping until they left for London. At least Morgan had warned her about Tash coming to stay with them. She’d had about an hour to mentally prepare herself; although, seeing the bruised and broken woman had still caused an influx of painful memories that she would have rather left buried.

  At least all of Tash’s injuries would heal without any physical scars.

  She hadn’t been that lucky.

  No, Shane had made sure that the memory of him would stay with her forever. He’d made sure that she was visibly damaged goods so that no one would ever want her again – especially Pierce, with the way he went through beautiful bombshells like it was his job.

  She was broken. Acknowledging her desire for him would only make vulnerable the one part of her that Shane had left intact – her heart.

  And that was only the millionth and one reason why she couldn’t encourage the magnetic attraction that pulled every time she and Pierce were near each other.

  Even though her dear brother had failed to mention that it was Pierce who would be accompanying them, he hadn’t failed to give her a lecture about him the day before they left.

  ‘Pierce is an ass. Pierce is a player. Pierce likes to play games. Pierce is the devil in the dark suit only looking for one thing from women, so don’t get any ideas; don’t read anything into what he says or does because it’s all just a show.’ Oh, and most importantly, ‘He may look nice in a dark suit, but Pierce doesn’t have a heart. I’m not saying you will, especially after how you two met, but I have to say it anyway… don’t expect him to feel anything for you or anyone else.’

  If she hadn’t already met the man, she would have scolded her little brother for the almost cruelty of his words. However, she had met Pierce which meant she knew that none of what Morgan said was anything that Pierce wouldn’t willingly admit to himself.

  They’d been so close when they were younger, even though she had to admit that the whole ‘twin mind reading’ thing was a sham – at least between a boy and a girl. Still, they’d been best friends.

  Morgan and Morgana.

  Their parents thought they were so clever with their matching names, but she’d gone by ‘Ana’ for as long as she could remember.

  Morgan had always taken it upon himself to look after her, but once they’d both started college, all of that had changed; once she’d met Shane, all of that had disappeared.

  Morgan moved to the east coast after high school and she had stayed in Seattle with their family, choosing a local college instead. It was at college that she’d met Shane. He’d been a ladies’ man, but when they first starting dating, he’d seemed reformed. Then, he’d met her parents. Shane planned on going to law school and her father owned the largest law firm in the city; everything seemed like it was meant to be. Her parents loved him and his loved her. She embraced the vision of where her life was heading – married to Shane as he became an associate at her dad’s firm, eventually to take it over when her dad retired.

  All that started to change when she’d introduced him to Morgan; the changes had been subtle when compared to the big picture, which is why she had ignored them - for which she paid the price.

  She could still remember that first Thanksgiving when her brother had met Shane; Morgan hadn’t been home in three years. At first, the two of them hit it off – same age, same interests, etc. He and Shane decided to go out that night – Thanksgiving eve – and grab some drinks; Ana had chosen to stay home and help her mom prepare for dinner the following day, thinking it would be a good opportunity for Morgan and Shane to get to know each other. She and Shane had been dating for almost two years, it was about time that her twin brother became close with the man it seemed like she was going to marry.

  How blind she had been.

  To this day Morgan wouldn’t tell her what had happened. But something had gone down at the bar that night, both men stormed back into the house fuming. Shane had a black eye and Morgan’s fist was bloodied; there was only one logical conclusion. Their mother, Linda, had been in shock that her son had hit another man; their father, James, had been furious – ‘assaulting a guest in our home.’

  She hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to Morgan before he’d packed his bags and stormed out of the house, missing Thanksgiving altogether for the next three years, barely on speaking terms with her and her parents.

  Finally, the Christmas after they’d turned twenty-seven, their mother convinced Morgan to come home for the holiday. And it was a good thing that he had.

  Before those few years when she and her brother weren’t speaking, Morgan had always envisioned himself as her protector and now, he’d resumed that role. She loved him and how much he cared about her, so she let him have that moment to ‘warn’ her about Pierce; she sat quietly and patiently listening to her twin and enjoyed his protectiveness that had been missing from her life.

  However, while he had saved her from Shane, the fact was that she could protect herself now. She wasn’t the same person that she’d been four years ago. And so, when he’d jumped into the current conversation, telling Pierce to stand down instead of letting her handle him, she’d been annoyed. Maybe if it had been with someone else, she wouldn’t have minded as much. But with Pierce, the last thing she wanted to do was look like she needed saving… and that meant she and her brother would have to have a little chat later about who was in charge.

  Ana had chosen her new career specifically because it had come with field training and self-defense. It gave her the confidence that she was no longer weak and it also kept her busy and traveling all over the world; it also made it blessedly difficult to get involved with anyone.

  Until Tony had been assigned to her team a few months ago. He’d been persistently trying to take their friendship to the next level. It wasn’t that he wasn’t gorgeous or sweet or courteous, but she just wasn’t looking for a relationship. So, she’d decided to follow up on a long-shot lead that had taken her to New York where she thought she would be safe from his attraction to her; instead, she’d flown right into the lion’s den. Sure, she’d escaped Tony’s benign attempts to woo her, only to let herself walk right into Pierce’s sights.

  The night she’d met him, his appearance had stunned her. Tall, dark, and handsome was an understatement in every aspect. He was a prime specimen of male, hard and wide in all the right places, filling out the black suit he’d been wearing. His hair was black as night and his eyes were even darker – black holes that would suck her into a completely different universe if she stared for too long. But when she thought of him as dark, it wasn’t because of his appearance, it was because of his attitude.

  The man didn’t seem to care about anything.

  The way he’d eyed her up and down followed by how he greeted her made it immediately clear that he didn’t care what anyone thought of him.

  A few more moments in his presence told her that he did care about certain things – certain things that were almost hidden from the world. Like her, he’d absentmindedly adjusted the high collar of his shirt as Morgan yelled at him for how he had greeted her. “Aren’t you fucking hot?” had been the first words he’d spoken to her. She’d ignored her brother, instead focusing on how Pierce’s subconscious movement revealed that he had a scar – a nasty looking one – that snaked up the side of his neck and peeked out of his collar that managed to conceal almost all of it.

  She’d only noticed the movement because she found herself constantly doing the same thing with every shirt, sweater, and jacket that she wore. Always pulling it tighter and adjusting the fabric even though there was no way any part of her shoulder was showing.

  Every time after that her mind took note how he always wore something with a collar; even when he went out for a run he covered his tee with a black track jacket zipped up almost all the way – at least while he was in the house.

  One morning, he’d come back early from a
run before anyone else was awake, storming through the door as she’d been in the hallway. The jacket had only been half-closed, but as soon as he noticed her, he instinctively zippered it all the way to the top even though he was sweating from exertion. He’d scowled and was about to storm past her until she’d scolded him for not taking off his wet shoes first.

  The scowl had only deepened.

  It was the last time she walked through the main foyer that early in the morning.

  Every time she’d seen him, his scar was covered. Until this morning.

  This morning when she’d run into him in the kitchen before dawn, he’d been wearing nothing but his pair of sweats. The sight had plagued her all day – the scar that covered what seemed like half of his body; it was as though someone had tried to filet him. Whatever had happened had been serious and it was probably a miracle that he was still alive. Then again, she wasn’t sure miracles were bestowed upon devils.

  The investigator in her pondered plausible scenarios all day and was dying to know what had happened; the woman in her though only envisioned herself kissing every hard and smooth inch of his chest in an attempt to heal the injury.

  Goosebumps multiplied over her skin at the memory.

  He’d been so all-encompassing as he gripped her to him – so strong, so male. The Earthy, masculine scent of him had liquid pooling instantly between her thighs. Thankfully, crashing into his hardness had spilled water all down her front, making it easier to try to ignore her body’s instinctive desire for him.

  He was everything that she shouldn’t want.

  He’d been a danger to her the second that she’d seen him, the way her body hummed in response to his like a wire containing a pulsing electric current; the closer he got to her, the stronger the pulsating had gotten, ready to spark. Morgan’s warning echoed in her mind, making her even more aware of every dark and heated stare that he sent her, every shock to her system if his skin happened to brush against hers; if this is what happened with every woman he came into contact with, it was no wonder that they all jumped at the chance to sleep with him. She could only imagine what it would be like to find pleasure with this man; and she did imagine it – that was the only pleasure she would allow herself. And then this morning happened, her body lighting up like a Christmas tree when he had held her to him, as he pulled her closer, enticing her to let him keep her warm.

  The fire alarms inside of her head had started blaring.

  So, she responded in the completely opposite fashion. She didn’t have a choice; she had to keep pushing him away otherwise she was courting danger and heartbreak, just like all the other women that he paraded into the house each night. Even that thought made her chest tighten.

  She wasn’t jealous. She wasn’t. And while she tried her hardest to believe that, it still stung every night that he came back to the house with a different woman on his arm and a dark smirk on his face. It still stung every time he flirted with Tash in front of her – like he was doing right now. She tried to avoid seeing him, but fate wasn’t that favorable and invariably, no matter how much she switched up her evening routine, Ana managed to catch a glimpse of them as they made their way through the house. Maybe she should have found them separate places to live, but on such short notice, it was practically impossible.

  So, she was stuck with the dark, dangerous, desirable devil. She was stuck dealing with Pierce’s provoking presence. She was stuck trying to ignore all of his attempts to unnerve her. And she was stuck trying to reign in her attraction to him.

  She hated being stuck.

  So, she used that irritation as fuel. She was cold – bordering on rude – to him and tried to admonish him whenever she could; and it worked. He wasn’t used to being rebuked. He wasn’t used to not being wanted and she could see his frustration and anger every time he looked at her, clouding over any thoughts that he may or may not have.

  It was easier to deal with an asshole than to deal with any attraction.

  Chapter 4

  “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but what the hell was that about?” Tash asked him saucily as they made it back into the kitchen, far enough away that the rest of the group couldn’t hear her question.

  His jaw tightened. Sometimes, he appreciated the petite blonde’s bluntness. Sometimes, he didn’t.

  “Can’t a gentleman want to help an injured woman? Chivalry isn’t dead.” He smirked at her as she opened the fridge, pausing to raise her eyebrows at him.

  “Pierce,” she began. “Thank you for your chivalrous assistance, but seriously, why all the flirting lately?”

  He turned to lean back against the kitchen island as she unloaded her bag of produce into the fridge.

  Even though they’d slept together the night that Sloane and Cyn had met, there had been no inclination on either side to repeat the event. For Tash, he attributed it partially to the fact that she’d been pretty badly abused by Sanchez; the air cast around her ankle the last remnant of that ordeal. But even after the bruises had healed, her attentions seemed to be elsewhere; she always seemed to have something or someone on her mind. It could have just been her predicament, but his perceptive skills told him it was more than that.

  Not that he was complaining. Most times, he had no desire to sleep with the same woman again after one night – not that Tash wasn’t a pretty girl, but more than one night led to more than one desire; and that turned him off.

  But, because of their prior intimacy and their current proximity, they found an unusual bond of friendship between them – comprised mostly of smartass comments and their mutual love of vodka.

  “She fucking gets under my skin,” he grumbled, half-hoping that she wouldn’t hear him.

  “Sucks to be on the receiving end of that, I’m assuming.” She chuckled and he glared at her. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

  “Well, try.”

  “Why are you letting her get under your skin?” she asked, limping over to him. “From what I know about you, you rarely let anyone get under your skin unless they are instigating some sort of competition – something where you feel the need to win.”

  “Did you hear anything when you came in?” On the plane ride over, Pierce had filled her in – more or less – on who and what the Gentlemen’s Guild was and why some of them were going to London.

  The Guild was supposed to be like fucking Fight Club. There was only one rule – and everyone kept fucking breaking it. So he figured he might as well bring her into the loop.

  What was his other option? Have the poor girl live with them for months and not tell her what was going on?

  Stupid fucking idea.

  “Nope. I didn’t even realize you were having a meeting or whatever that was.”

  “Yeah. Ana’s team got here yesterday. Today was supposed to be a debrief meeting although it seemed like it was more of an interrogation.”

  “Well, you are the only one who is really involved. They need to ask the questions.”

  “Whose side are you on exactly?” Pierce retorted.

  “Whoever is the most rational. And right now, they are.” She shrugged her shoulders. “So, why don’t you tell me why you are all pissed off?”

  “Because.” He sighed. “I’m the one who lost the damn thing. I’m the one who’s been looking for it and now she wants to cut me out of the operation. I’m the one with contacts here and she just wants me to wait it out like I’m a fucking child who doesn’t know how to handle myself.”

  “I mean, it still sounds reasonable to me.”

  “How?”

  “Because that’s not why you’re really upset.”

  “Oh? And how do you figure that?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Because you wouldn’t be blatantly flirting with me in front of her if that was the real problem. I think the real problem is that you want her and she doesn’t fall for you like every other woman and fall for whatever you want them to do. And that is your problem.”

  What the hell. Hi
s eyes darkened in irritation, moving to tower in front of Tash.

  “You can glare at me all you want, but maybe if you just admitted that you want her then you could set that aside to focus on what is actually the best way to get the painting back. Not just what you think is the best way for you to handle it on your own.”

  “I don’t want her,” he growled.

  “Tash,” Morgan interrupted from behind them. His gaze narrowed at Pierce, wondering who he’d been referring to – wondering if he’d been referring to his sister. Their stares clashed for a second before Morgan focused on Tash, subsequently ignoring Pierce. “Sloane is on the phone for you. He has a few more questions about… ahh… what happened.”

  Sloane and Tristan, along with a few unnamed sources, had been hard at work trying to find something on Sanchez to bring him down. Sloane had been calling once or twice a week to check on Tash but also to ask her questions about what she knew about Sanchez. He always called Morgan’s phone just as a precaution.

  Pierce wasn’t sure that Tash had given them much that was useful, based on what she told him, but she had been with Sanchez several times over the past two years so the more leads that they found, the more questions that they had.

  He watched her take the phone from Morgan – the man glaring at him one more time before walking back to the other room where he was welcome to participate in the hunt.

  He listened to Tash talk for a few seconds, wondering who was really pulling the strings on the other end of the line. Based on her answers, Pierce could infer what was being asked, and those questions weren’t something that Sloane would come up with on his own; he wasn’t a detective. No, they were working with someone. And if he wasn’t so pre-occupied with his royal pain in the ass, it might be something worth wondering about.