The Painter's Passion

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “He never wanted me,” Ana said softly.

  Tash stopped and stared at her. “Wait, what do you mean? Pierce definitely wants you, probably more than he’s used to, which means it’s inevitable that he’s going to do something stupid.”

  She shook her head. “Not Pierce. My ex. He never wanted me; he was never attracted to me. He was attracted to the idea of having a trophy wife – and the easy access to my family’s law firm. I’ve never had someone want me the way Pierce does. And the way that that makes me feel, well, I don’t think that you made wrong choices, Tash. Being so desired is incredibly addicting. I don’t think I’m brave enough, but I can see how a life based on that could be worth exploring.”

  Tash smiled at her and laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t say it’s quite like the passionate fairy-tale you are suggesting, but it does have its benefits; more importantly, it was the right decision for me.” A shudder passed over her. “Now, who knows what will happen?”

  Ana turned and grabbed her shoulders. “It’s going to be ok, Tash. They are going to get him and you’re going to be able to go back home and back to your life.” She’d meant the words to be comforting, but, for some reason, they just made Tash seem even sadder.

  “But do I want to?” she replied hollowly. There was a moment of silence as Ana tried to think of how to respond. “But that’s a problem for another day.” A brave smile spread over her face. “For right now, our mission is dresses and then to catch a thief.”

  Ana laughed. “You are way too excited about this.”

  “Seriously? How can you not be? It’s like right out of a spy novel,” Tash joked as she pulled a red sparkly dress off of the wall. “What about this one?”

  Strapless.

  “Too bright. I want to look sexy, but we can’t afford to have everyone’s eyes on me.”

  Ana continued browsing through a series of all black dresses; she was about to go ask one of the saleswomen to show her where they kept winter formal wear since none of the options she’d seen had anything that remotely resembled shoulder coverage.

  “Ana, this is perfect!” Tash exclaimed, just as Ana decided to find that saleswoman.

  She turned to see Tash holding up a red and black lace number. The front of the dress came up and around the neck with black, sheer mesh over the chest to obscure the skin underneath. The black sheath was covered with a red, floral lace design that was interspersed up the front, coming up on either side of the mesh and then continuing down on the left side only as a sleeve.

  One long, lace sleeve.

  It was perfect.

  She walked over and took the hanger from Tash’s hand.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re right,” she replied softly. “I think this is exactly what I was looking for.”

  “Ana.” She was standing in front of the microwave, wearing sweats and that same sweater that she always wore around the house, watching and waiting while it heated up her dinner. His deep voice startled her and she turned quickly to face him.

  His stomach clenched.

  Fuck.

  He’d hoped staying away from her for a day would dull, even just the tiniest bit, his ache for her. It hadn’t.

  She stood in front of him like a golden goddess, begging him to worship her.

  He hadn’t seen her at all yesterday. After his encounter with Morgan, he’d holed up in his room – in his studio – knowing that he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of her.

  He’d argued with himself over whether or not to tell her about Loury’s warning. Yes, Tony and Gino should be going there armed, but what if they weren’t? What if, because of the crowd, Ana didn’t want them carrying? All of a sudden, his nonchalance over the whole situation disappeared and the only thing that he could think about was ‘what if Ana got hurt?’

  He’d insisted to everyone that nothing was going to happen, that this op was perfectly safe. Was his pride more important than her life? He’d gone from one end of the spectrum to the other, finally deciding that he had to tell her to make sure that her team was properly prepared.

  If anything fucking happened to her…

  “Pierce.” His name came out breathlessly from those beautiful lips.

  Their gazes locked for a moment and then the microwave dinged, drawing her focus as she pulled out the carton of Thai leftovers from inside of it.

  “Is everything ok?” she asked, pulling out a fork before turning to face him again.

  “Need to talk to you,” he replied gruffly and she stepped closer.

  Her eyes told him that she expected him to demand that she follow him up to his room again, but that wasn’t going to be the case. Not tonight.

  Not ever again – for her sake.

  All he wanted was to ask her about her ex; he wanted to know everything so that he could kill the man who hurt her.

  But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because that would show her just how much he cared and that was the last thing she needed to be convinced of right now.

  She set the carton down on the countertop, her expression concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. I need to talk to you about this weekend.”

  “Oh, ok. It’s fine,” she answered quietly, but made no move to continue eating.

  “Ana, sit down and eat,” he demanded. For a moment, he thought she was going to fight him, but then she grabbed her food and walked around to where the counter stools were and took a seat on one.

  “Tony and Gino are going to be armed this weekend, correct?” he asked blatantly.

  Her eyes widened as she finished chewing. “What do you mean? Should they be? Can they?”

  “Shit,” he swore. “Yes, they can and they should.”

  “What’s going on, Pierce?”

  “I want to make sure that they are prepared for anything.”

  She set her fork down. “I understand that except you insisted just the other day that this operation was safe enough that Tash could participate.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What changed?”

  His lips thinned. Why couldn’t she just take his word and leave it? Why did she have to know everything?

  “Loury called.” He placed his hands on the island countertop, pressing against it. “Apparently, the man who was supposed to get that painting all those years ago knows that the woman who has it is going to be there. Loury thinks he will be sending men to take her.”

  “Oh my God, Pierce.” She gasped. “This isn’t a good idea. Maybe we need to rethink this whole thing. I didn’t like it in the first place, but I’m not willing to put the rest of you at risk like this.”

  Pierce stalked around the counter, catching her head between his hands to stop it from shaking frantically.

  “I will figure out a way for Tony, Gino, and me to handle it.”

  “Ana,” he growled. “You know that’s not going to work. There’s not enough of you and you have no idea who she is. We need to continue as planned. There is a good chance that they won’t want to make a scene if they are coming and if they even find her.”

  “Pierce, I’m not going to let you bully me into letting my brother and my friend and…” She stopped as her breath caught on his name – or whatever she’d been about to call him.

  “Think about it, Ana,” he continued roughly. “What happens if just you three go? There will be too many people for you to canvas. Not to mention, you have no idea who she is and if Loury can smell your agent-aroma, there’s a good chance that this girl will, too.”

  Now, she was gnawing on her lower lip.

  “Stop that,” he demanded, his thumb catching her lip and brushing over it to stop her from biting it open. “And what happens if we don’t go at all? Best case – they spook her and she disappears. Worst case – the catch her, get the painting, and probably kill her. Is that what you want? Think, Ana. This girl has been running from me, but more so fr
om them for years. She’s finally trying to sell it probably because she thinks it’s safe; she has no idea that there are going to be men there after her.”

  He knew it was devious – to play to her empathy – but it was the only way to make her understand all of the reasons why it was important that they continue with the operation exactly as they had planned.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing,” she replied smartly.

  Of course, his Princess would see right through him.

  “Is it working?” he asked with a half-smile.

  “Why do you care what happens to her?” she asked. “She stole this painting from you; she’s the reason this whole situation has been hanging over your head. If they catch her and their boss gets this painting, well then at least it’s not on the market. No one would probably ever know and it would solve your problem. The world could continue to safely believe that the forgery in the Met is actually the original.”

  His eyes narrowed. Damn woman.

  “Technically, it was her little friend who stole it from me. I get the feeling that she was just along for the ride.”

  “Still…”

  “You ask too many damn questions, you know that, Your Highness?” he retorted.

  “And I expect answers to all of them, Mr. Lane.”

  For a moment, he let himself get lost in the calming murky green of her eyes.

  How did he tell her that as much as he did want the painting back, he no longer seemed to care about exacting revenge on the women who took it from him?

  How did he tell her that the only parts of his past that he was interested in fixing were the ones keeping him from her?

  He didn’t. Because unlike returning a painting to a museum, there was no returning the parts of him that had been taken – the part of him that allowed him the capacity to love.

  He wanted to be the person that no one, including himself, thought he could be. However, the darker truth that undermined everything that he felt was the deal that he’d made for the information – a deal that required the girl to end up with Loury and not the men he was trying to impress.

  He wasn’t sure how responsible the man would hold him for someone else taking her, but he had a feeling that his head would be first on the chopping block.

  “First off, I don’t believe that having the painting in someone else’s hands is better than having it back where it belongs. But besides that, these people killed her friend. If that wasn’t enough of an indication of their intentions, the fact that Loury called to warn me should be; we aren’t exactly on the best terms to begin with.” He sighed. “If I know anything about the man – and the people he likes to work with – as soon as they have the painting, the girl will be killed, Ana.” He watched her eyes change as the knowledge began to sink in. “I will shoulder the responsibility for losing a painting, but I’m not willing to risk someone’s life when there was something I could have done about it.”

  And he wasn’t just talking about the thief.

  Her mouth parted for a split second and Pierce felt his lips drawn to hers, but then she spoke and saved him from himself.

  “What if I say no?” she whispered.

  “Then I will go on my own,” he replied hoarsely.

  She swallowed over the lump in her throat as her heart swelled. For all of the asshole things that he said and did, Pierce did have a heart and deep down, it was a good one. Morgan might like to always be the hero, but it was becoming clearer and clearer that Pierce liked to save the day – unconventionally, and most times uncomfortably – from the shadows.

  He didn’t want recognition; he didn’t want you to feel any sort of gratitude or love for him for what he did – that was why he tried to make everyone hate him.

  For the first time, all of the darkness and shadows surrounding him in her mind cleared and she saw him for the man that he was: broken by his past, believing himself unsalvageable and unworthy, yet determined to help those he cares about at the expense of their good opinion of him.

  He did enjoy being an ass, she thought wryly. But now knowing even just a part of what he had experienced, she could see him clearly. Pierce wanted to be cared for, but he was afraid that he wasn’t worthy of love – or life – so it was just safer to push everyone away. But that couldn’t stop him from caring for them, in secret, behind the scenes.

  She raised her hand and placed it on his chest over his scar, feeling underneath her fingertips as he sucked in a breath.

  “What happened to you, Pierce?” she whispered.

  His eyes widened, unprepared for her question, before his expression hardened, his dark eyes glazing over. “I told you,” he bit out.

  “You didn’t tell me the rest.” She could feel his heart beginning to pound underneath her palm.

  “What else could you possibly want to know, Ana?” he rasped. “Jesus Christ. You want to know that I grew up with a mother who was a drug addict. Fuck if I know who my dad was – could have been one of her suppliers for all I know. You want to hear how she was so high all the time that I was the one forced to figure out what we were going to eat that day or how I had to walk her to work every day to make sure that she went and earned money so that we wouldn’t be evicted? Or how when her addiction became so bad that she basically sold me to her dealer in exchange for more drugs? How they used me to sell drugs because they thought it would be less conspicuous?”

  Ana felt the tears building in her eyes, but she forced herself to hold them back.

  “You want to know how they would make me come with them to collect from people who owed? How they brought me along to clean up the mess they made making sure that they got their money? Or you want to know how it got to the point where she needed more than what they were giving her, so she had me steal from them? How she told me that I would do it if I loved her? I was eleven and she was all I had. So, I did. And they didn’t notice for a while. But eventually they realized what was happening. And then that day they came to collect from her like I’d seen them collect from countless others who were suffering and wasting away.”

  “Pierce…” she whispered and his hands dropped from her face.

  “You want to know how after everything that I did, they came and still I tried to protect her, and in return for all of the love that I showed her, she left me to die?”

  Her hand gripped into the fabric of his shirt. She stared into the dark, pained depths of his eyes, but knew he wasn’t seeing her in return – only the painful parts of his past that he’d buried for so long.

  “Or maybe you mean what happened after I almost died?” he continued harshly. “A neighbor heard my screams and called 911. I don’t remember any of it. I remember all the blood and the pain… and then I remember waking up in the hospital with no one around me that I knew. And I was glad. The truth was, I only had myself to blame. I let her addiction get worse; I fed it, and I went along with what she asked. I put her in the position to where she could barely function normally; it was all my fault. And it’s no wonder that she wouldn’t want me alive – since I had basically killed her.”

  “Pierce!” she exclaimed, frantically shaking her head again, her hair flying in front of her face, strands of it sticking to the wetness in her eyes and on her cheeks; her tears were now falling in torrents. “You were a child, you can’t think that. She should have been taking care of you. She should have never—” Her voice broke as she choked on the words, her hands coming up to cup his face, but he immediately pulled back.

  “Don’t Ana, just don’t.” He swore. “Please.”

  If it hadn’t been for that last word, she would have pressed further. It killed her to let him continue to think that he was responsible for his mother’s death, for her addiction; it killed her to let him continue to think that it meant he wasn’t worth loving.

  “I’m so sorry, Pierce, but you are not to blame.” she said softly, needing at least those words to come out as she lifted her watery eyes up to his. She stepped closer to him
and put her hand back onto his chest where it had been before. “You may not want to believe it, but I know that you have a good heart. I’ve seen it – you should let others see it, too.” She saw his disagreement written on his face; she knew he didn’t want her to see it that way – that he didn’t want her to see the truth. “We will go… this weekend. I will let Tony and Gino know tomorrow what you’ve told me.”

  He nodded curtly. “And, Princess, you might not want to hear it, but you couldn’t be more wrong about me – just ask your brother. I just hope you aren’t too crushed when I manage to prove it to you.”

  Ana wasn’t sure what hurt more – the sharpness of his tone or the confident sincerity and belief in his words.

  “Pierce…” His name escaped on her exhale.

  It ended up being neither. What hurt the worst was the way he then turned and walked calmly out of the kitchen – as though he hadn’t just bared his soul to her, as though she wasn’t standing there with her heart bleeding for him, aching to make his pain go way.

  As though she wasn’t standing there fighting to find a reason not to fall in love with every broken, self-loathing, strong, heroic piece of him.

  Chapter 21

  What the fuck was wrong with him?

  Pierce cranked on the shower, needing the scalding heat to clear his mind and sear every unattainable desire from his body.

  He’d gone down there with one job – one goal: to warn Ana of the potential danger to make sure she, and everyone else, was prepared.

  He’d searched her out to make sure he’d found her in a public space; he didn’t want to take any chances. He needed to stay as far away from her as possible until this whole thing was over.

  He was sure that whatever Morgan had said to Ana, whatever he’d warned her about, was the truth. He was a heartless asshole.

  Or was that just what he wanted everyone to see?

  Pierce swore and punched the tiled wall of the shower.