“Agreed.” Jared grinned, his eyes sexy-drowsy as he watched her intently. Ari wished she could wake up looking into them every day of her life.
Tracing a pattern on her shoulder with the barest brush of his fingers, Jared said, “But really, gorgeous. This can’t go on.”
Ari’s heart sank, but of course he was right. She’d been crazy to even let it go as far as it had. “I know,” she said. “I should—”
“It’s just that I’ve managed to kiss nearly every bit of flesh on this divine body of yours, yet you still won’t tell me your name.”
“I… my name?”
“Yes, that pesky little detail.” Jared pressed a hot kiss to her collarbone. “No more secrets, love. I told you mine, so—as the saying goes—now you tell me yours.”
Lie. Just fucking lie.
The voice in her head was loud and almost convincing, but there was something about being utterly naked with this man, stripped down to nothing but skin and heat and the slickness of their bodies pressed together in the darkness, that made Ari feel safe. Trusting.
And totally reckless.
Without even realizing it, Jared Blackwell was pulling apart that sticky web of hers, kiss by kiss, breath by breath, one gossamer strand at a time.
With his honey-brown eyes boring into hers, his body resting perfectly between her aching thighs, Ari was powerless. And that, more than his identity or high-dollar art collection, made him the most dangerous man in her world.
“Arianne Holbrook,” she finally whispered. The confession left her more than bare, more than exposed. Admitting her name to him was like turning herself completely inside out; it filled her with a sudden restless energy that bordered on mania. She slid out from under his weight and sat up against the headboard, gathering the sheet over her breasts.
“Arianne…” Jared whispered. Her name was delicious on his lips. “Lovely.”
Ari shook her head, attempting to clear the cobwebs. “Where are my clothes? I need to—”
“No, you really don’t.” Jared slipped his hands behind her neck, gently cradling her head. Without closing his eyes, he smothered her in a kiss full of white-hot fire that Ari felt deep in her belly, a demanding intensity that she couldn’t resist.
When he finally pulled away, his gaze was unrelenting, and Ari knew that whatever he demanded next, she’d acquiesce.
In a liquid voice that made her thighs clench, Jared said plainly, “Stay with me, Arianne Holbrook.”
God, how she wanted to give in. But before she could even respond, Evan was back inside the garden house, calling out a warning from just outside the open bedroom door.
“Are you two quite finished?” he asked.
“Christ, Evan. Have you gone bloody mad?” Jared rose from the bed and slammed the door before Evan got any closer. The full-on sight of his naked form in the moonlight gave Ari the best kind of chills.
From the other side of the door, Evan’s muffled voice said, “I told you five minutes, mate. That was twenty minutes ago. Get dressed.”
“I’m busy,” Jared snapped, but he was already hunting around the room for his clothes. Ari rose and gathered up her own things, slipping into the master bathroom to freshen up.
Evan’s interruption was ill-timed, but necessary. Now, staring at her bruised lips in the mirror, her tangled hair, the delicious red marks Jared had left on her willing flesh, Ari was finally afraid.
Not of Jared, but of herself.
How could I be so careless?
She touched her fingers to her lips, the ghost of his kiss still making her ache.
That’s how, girl. That is exactly how.
It reminded Ari of a research paper her younger sister Tasha had written for a psychology class last semester. “Check this out,” Tasha had said, thumbing through her source material over breakfast one morning. “Doctors believe that the line between passion and madness is so thin, the chemical profile of the brain of a person experiencing the early euphoric stages of love is nearly identical to that of a person going insane. Isn’t that amazing?”
The girls had joked about it at the time, vowing to stay single and sane for life. But now, thanks to Jared Blackwell, Ari was beginning to understand exactly what the doctors meant.
She closed her eyes as a sharp pain split her skull. It was as if her brain was fracturing into two different people. One wanted nothing more than to finish the job expected of her and make a clean break, becoming no more than a distant memory for Jared. But the other wanted to call the police and turn herself in, saving Jared a whole lot of trouble in the process.
“Bloody brilliant,” she whispered, unintentionally imitating Jared’s English accent.
As the two men bickered outside the door, Ari cleaned up an got dressed, doing her best to reassemble her hair. Finally satisfied, she slid open the bathroom window and stuck her head through the unscreened opening, drinking in the cool, misty air. For a brief moment, she considered escaping through the window like a grounded teenager, but the idea was fleeting. This side of the guest house faced the woods, and beyond the dim light from the bathroom, there was nothing but blackness.
Any sane, self-preserving person would’ve bolted the minute she’d connected the dots. But even if she’d had a ready excuse for Jared, Ari knew she couldn’t just leave; things were way too volatile with Davidson. Reporting back with no more than a few meager details about the upstairs bedroom would be suicide.
Hers and Tasha’s.
Ari shuddered at the thought.
Before taking over her father’s operation, Davidson had been the muscle. When Ari was younger, her father had always tried to shield her from that side of the business, but he couldn’t protect her forever. As time went on, she witnessed more and more violence, more threats, almost all of it linked to her current boss.
Now, the old memories resurfaced, rushing her. Davidson, pummeling a man into a permanent coma for trying to lowball on the previously agreed upon price. Davidson, slicing a woman’s face and leaving a permanent scar to send a message to her husband. Ari’s father had stepped in on that one, but Davidson got his hit in anyway. And Davidson, brutally killing the dog of a freelance associate who’d threatened to rat them out to the cops after a failed heist.
The cries of that animal still haunted her nightmares now, even a decade later.
Other than an occasional shove or too-firm grip around the arm, Davidson had never been brutally violent with Ari. But more often lately she sensed his patience—and his previous loyalty to her father—was thinning. And though these days Davidson preferred to manage rather than muscle, Ari knew his old tendencies weren’t gone. They were only dormant, waiting for the right opportunity to unleash hell.
Ari did not want to be the one to give him that opportunity by blowing this assignment.
Beyond that immediate threat, she also needed more time to suss out the situation with the LaPorte painting. What was a piece of her father’s stolen cache doing in Jared’s upstate home? Tucked away in a guest bedroom, no less?
With the sheets she and Jared had so recently shared finally cooling off in the other room, Ari’s survival instinct was kicking in. Her feelings about Jared had to take a backseat to the more pressing matter of personal safety—both hers and Tasha’s—as well as her financial well-being, which was unfortunately under Davidson’s complete control. And that meant getting the intel Davidson needed, period. Whatever happened after that, she’d figure it out as she went.
Ari shut the window, turning once again to face herself in the mirror. In the absence of an escape route, she needed a solid, fact-based plan.
Fact: She couldn’t return to the city without any useful information.
Fact: Vincent wouldn’t be expecting her call for a pickup for at least two more hours, giving her plenty of time to scope things out.
Fact: There was at least one piece of stolen art in the house, and with a little sweet-talking, she might be able to uncover the source.
&nbs
p; Fact: Sleeping with her boss’s mark was a complication she didn’t need, but—
Fact: It was a little late for regrets.
Okay, Ari thought. The first floor would be easy. She could blend in with the crowd, work her way through each room, and visually catalogue everything important: artwork, entrances, doors and windows, locks, alarm systems. As long as Jared was distracted by Evan and the obligations of his guests, Ari figured she’d be able to sneak upstairs again, too.
Feeling slightly more sure of herself, Ari applied a final coat of lip gloss, then dropped the makeup into her purse, ready to execute her plan. It was pretty solid, despite the strange turn of events; she had no reason to believe it wouldn’t work.
She was Arianne Holbrook, after all. Trained by the best in the business.
All she had to do was to set aside her personal feelings, her severely malfunctioning moral compass, and—oh, right—her very last shred of human decency.
No problem! I’m sure my father is already saving me a seat in hell…
A sharp knock interrupted her morbid thoughts.
“Arianne,” Jared said, “are you dressed, love?”
“Just a minute.” Ari closed her eyes, committing to memory the sound of her name on Jared’s lips. She knew it would likely be the last time she heard it.
Steeling herself for the job ahead, Ari grabbed her purse and opened the door, arranging her features once again into a flawless mask of polish and poise.
Jared admired her openly, then held out an arm to escort her back into the home her boss and his associates would soon liquidate. “Shall we face the music, then?”
With a casual familiarity she didn’t quite feel, Ari looped her arm through his and smiled seductively. “Lead the way, Mr. Blackwell.”
Chapter Two
They shared a secret now. A delicious, forbidden secret, the memory of which made Ari’s thighs clench every time she and Jared locked eyes across the room.
Now, as Jared made the rounds to thank his guests, Ari was painfully aware of his presence. Even without looking, she could sense him watching her, stripping her bare with that hot, smoldering gaze.
The expansive living room was packed with at least eighty people, all jockeying for a chance to shake hands with their rich, mysterious host. But across the sea of elegantly dressed socialites and corporate financiers, one covert wink from Jared made Ari feel like the only person in the room.
Beyond all reason and logic, she hoped she’d have a final chance to submit to him tonight, to feel his thick, strong cock stretching her wide, his rough hands telling her flesh exactly what to do.
God, their bodies had been perfect together…
But the time for reminiscing about hot sex with Jared Blackwell was later. Much later. Maybe when she was on that all-expenses paid trip to Spain, alone at night in her hotel room. Or better yet, alone at night in the bath…
What am I doing?
Watching her lover smile amicably at his guests, working a crowd Ari knew he’d rather send away so they could be alone again, Ari burned with guilt. Jared had shown her nothing but pleasure, trust, and—above all—kindness. Yet she was working for men who wanted to rob him blind.
There has to be another way.
Ari closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of stuffy air and forcing the thought away. Yes, maybe there was another way, but bailing on the job wasn’t it. With this kind of score on the line, Davidson would get his intel one way or another. If Ari proved herself worthy, earned back a bit of his elusive trust by getting him the details on Jared’s collection, she had at least a small chance at securing her and Tasha’s fragile future.
And maybe, if she kept her cool, she could even figure out a way to prevent the robbery. To warn or help Jared before Davidson made his big move.
But before any of that could happen, she needed to know exactly what they were dealing with here—artwork, antiquities, staff, security, all of it.
Shaking off the last of her reservations, Ari opened her eyes, catching Jared’s seductive smile once again. She waited until an elderly couple distracted his nearly unrelenting gaze, then finally made her move.
Starting in the formal dining room, she glided expertly through the crowd from one conversation to the next, laughing at the right jokes, asking the right interesting but unmemorable questions, never saying anything suspicious or extraordinary, all the while taking copious notes with her eyes.
In less than an hour, she’d canvassed the entire first floor, discovering a small gallery’s worth of beautiful artwork, resplendent but never ostentatious.
Her father would’ve appreciated it. He would’ve stolen it, but first he would’ve appreciated it.
Maybe that minor detail shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. In Ari’s eyes, it made her father human. Faulty and corrupt, just like she was—but human.
That humanity was the main difference between her father and the man to which she now pledged her professional allegiance.
Ari thought of them both as she disappeared down a set of stairs into a dark but exquisitely furnished basement. She wondered what her father would think of her now: taking orders from Davidson, barely dodging Vincent’s threats, desperate to find a way out of the life her father had worked so hard to build. He’d spent years teaching her the heist game, and now all she wanted was to get out. To start fresh. To be free to fall in love, even if it did turn her insane like the doctors in Tasha’s research had warned…
He’d be horribly disappointed. And I wouldn’t blame him.
Dismissing her long list of regrets, Ari got back to work. With practiced but weary eyes, she scanned the basement, identifying the artwork and antique furnishings she knew Davidson would want. There was also a high-end media room, complete with the most sophisticated video and sound system Ari had ever seen, but they’d probably leave that untouched. Luxury electronics were pricey and valuable, but their custom installations made them difficult to steal and resell. More importantly, the electronics weren’t unique, which meant that most of Davidson’s clients wouldn’t be interested. They preferred the exclusives: one-of-a-kind art, rare artifacts, things they couldn’t order off the Internet with their Amex Black cards.
At the far end of the basement, Ari found two sleek black doors. The first was just a utility and furnace room, but the other looked promising. It was locked and—judging from the faint red glow leaking out the gap at the bottom—heavily alarmed.
Excitement flooded her chest, the old rush so familiar it was hard not to stop and relish the momentary high. Whatever Jared had locked behind that door was more valuable than any of the millions of dollars in artwork and automobiles displayed throughout the upper levels under significantly less security.
More valuable—or more secret.
Ari’s skin tingled. She knelt on the floor and tried to peer underneath the door, but saw nothing through the gap but a gleaming wood floor reflecting ambient red light—likely a laser beam security system.
The room would remain, for now, a secret.
Unless I can convince him to give me a tour…
Ari dismissed the thought almost as soon as it had entered her traitorous head. It was bad enough she was facilitating the robbery of Jared’s precious art estate. Whatever lay hidden behind the heavy black door could stay hidden. She’d just have to tell Davidson the basement wasn’t worth investigating. Hopefully he’d buy it; time was always of the essence during a heist, and they’d have their hands full with everything on the first and second floors, especially if Vincent wanted to go after the cars…
No. None of that is going to happen. I’m going to figure something out. I have to.
Rising from the floor, Ari took a deep breath, preparing herself for the rest of the work ahead.
Put in another appearance on the first floor, making sure Jared sees me chatting with the other guests. Then, find my way to the remaining bedrooms upstairs, particularly the master suite. If there’s time after that, I’ll try for anot
her glimpse at the LaPorte painting.
Ari was eager to move on, but when she returned to the staircase that would lead her out of the basement, her eyes landed on a narrow library table with a protective glass top—a piece she’d missed on her initial sweep. The table itself was unimpressive, but the white marble statue under the protective glass was anything but.
Ari gasped, her hand flying instinctively to her mouth.
It can’t be.
But it most definitely was. The missing penis was a dead giveaway.
Heart in her throat, Ari approached the table for a closer look at the sculpture, a first-century Roman statue of Hermes, carved in marble after a style favored in Greece hundreds of years prior.
The penis was intentionally filed away in antiquity, a mystery the art world had never been able to solve. It was absolutely authentic; everything from the mismatched wing sizes on Hermes’ sandals, the ornately carved hair and musculature, and especially the missing member… it was exactly as Ari remembered from her readings.
It was the real deal.
It was priceless.
And it was another piece from her father’s missing cache.
Ari’s heart hammered in her chest, her palms sweating. Why did Jared Blackwell—her Jared Blackwell—have two pieces of art from the cache that had, for all intents and purposes, killed her father?
Did Vincent and Davidson know about these pieces?
Was she being set up?
Were the men she was supposed to be working for enjoying this latest torment, sending her out to chase her father’s ghost?
Questions rushed her from the deepest, most fearful parts of her heart, making her dizzy and anxious. Ari was so lost in thought and worry that she didn’t even hear the man on the stairs behind her until it was too late.
“Something wrong, darling?” Jared said.
Ari should’ve been startled. She should’ve whirled around on her heel to face him, spilling forth an excuse about getting lost on the way to the powder room. She should’ve thrown herself into his arms, kissed away his questions and suspicions, whispered things in his ear so naughty he wouldn’t even remember catching her down here.
Bared to the Billionaire: The Complete Series Page 12