Can she outwit the ultimate master in a timeless game of seduction?

Chasing Icon, the world’s slickest art thief, was the most seductive thrill of London art investigator Zara Leighton’s career...until the clues led her to the man who holds command of her body and heart, Tobias Wilder, an American billionaire with charisma to spare. Her duty to capture him is complicated by the intensity of their passion. Her will to end their connection is tinted with red-hot need to never let him go.

Tobias’s heists are about more than money and ego. His plot to orchestrate the perfect deception in Los Angeles is destiny. No one—not even Zara—knows the depths of his motivation. And no one suspects the truth behind a single artifact that holds the secrets to an entire civilization. Forced to deny one calling to satisfy another, he knows something must be sacrificed: his code of honor or his loyalty to Zara.

The Game

Vanessa Fewings

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all creators of art past and present, both professional and personal. This story is for you.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Extract

Copyright

1

This way through The Wilder Museum promised to lead to one of the most significant paintings of French Impressionism, a masterpiece renowned for igniting a sensation in the late nineteenth century for its stunning realism. A work also famed for altering your experience of art irrevocably.

My stilettos carried me across the white marble floor of one of Los Angeles’s most distinguished museums, and my heart beat faster as I made my way toward the room showcasing Jean-Jacques Henner’s 1879 Madame Paul Duchesne-Fournet.

More than this, these sprawling hallways would lead me back to him.

Tobias William Wilder, the owner of this grand palace of art, and the reason I’d traveled all the way from London.

I’d flown in to LAX just this morning, arriving on this balmy Monday with my heart heavy with what lay ahead. By the time I’d checked into my hotel in Beverly Hills, I’d rallied my courage to see him again.

Amongst Wilder’s many talents, which included running a billion-dollar tech empire and taking the world by storm with his inventions, he was also Icon—history’s most notorious art thief. It was this secret that was destroying me.

All I believed about us is a lie.

I hurried onward refocusing on the reason I was here.

I’d worn a deep blue laced dress, the color calming, and the detail of the scalloped lace hemline pretty and nonthreatening. The style made me feel feminine but strong; with the strappy high heels, my height would at least be closer to his. Tucking my Dooney and Bourke pouchette purse behind me, I took a moment to center myself, prepare for what lay ahead.

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, I raised my gaze skyward to the architectural wonder of the multicolored glass ceiling showering shards of radiant light upon me. A vivid display bridging the old world with the new, the complex prisms were quite simply beautiful and provided a rare glimpse into Tobias’s nature.

The first curator to greet me had advised that the route I was now taking was the best way to approach the gallery’s most treasured piece, generously on loan from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. The one portrait everyone came to pay homage to.

Along with the imminent visceral experience from viewing such a masterpiece, this moment was filled with a ribbon of emotions unfolding with the complexity they deserved, from seeing the man who I’d thought of as my one true love to the strain of having to persuade Tobias to surrender to Interpol. Or, if it was easier, he could come with me to the police. I’d do everything in my power to make his arrest a little kinder on him.

Tobias had single-handedly shaken the art community to its core by stealing some of its most precious portraits, and all this without leaving a trace.

Right up until that raven had dive-bombed his heist back in France, leaving a few feathers to mark its uninvited descent into a priceless rotunda in Amboise. Such a chaotic misadventure proved nothing fazed him. Tobias had gotten away with a self-portrait by Titian, no less.

In his own indomitable style he had also incapacitated my world when he’d swept me up into a rapturous love affair that had left me questioning my integrity. I had to know if I’d been merely a means to an end because as a forensic art investigator, I’d seemingly been a pawn to move and manipulate and provide him with insider glimpses into his case. If it were not for me, our private investigation would have otherwise remained secured away on Huntly Pierre’s database—the company I worked for and the firm that had tasked me with tracking him down.

I wallowed in guilt that so far I’d done nothing.

Until today.

I’d needed time to analyze the evidence to prove Wilder was our man. Such an accusation could devastate a reputation. There was no room for error or even doubt. It was impossible to deny the raw truth I’d personally witnessed at his home in Oxfordshire, having stood right there in that cold vault and viewed those stolen paintings. My uncanny ability to spot a fake had proven a curse as I’d known I was viewing an authentic Rembrandt, and a Monet. Along with the others I’d viewed, it had added up to irrefutable evidence.

I’d left his home with nothing to corroborate my story. Accusing one of Huntly Pierre’s most exclusive clients would see my thin thread of credibility gone, along with my dream job. My future hinged on doing the right thing.

And doing it well.

Yes, Tobias had stolen those paintings to return them to their rightful owners. Having tracked their provenance, I knew these privately owned collections had been robbed before by some faceless thieves for personal profit.

Still, sooner than later Tobias was going to get caught. This beautiful, brilliant man who had shown me how to love deserved so much more than the consequences of his heroic misadventures.

During our last agonizing phone call, a few weeks ago while I was still in London, I’d begged him to give up this life and in typical Tobias fashion he’d teased me with how to find him, giving a clue that only an art lover like me could decipher.

He’d described how alike I was to Madame Duchesne-Fournet, though he’d not spoken her name then. He’d merely mentioned that upon unveiling the painting in the late eighteenth century, she’d brought Paris to a standstill. He’d compared what Madame Duchesne-Fournet had done to France to what I’d done to him.

Brought Tobias to his knees.

How much I wanted to believe he loved me. I needed to know what we’d had was real.

There was no place for weakness.

No time for delusion.

In any other circumstance I would have refused to rush along, simply couldn’t imagine not paying any attention to the other paintings like the last frame, La Promenade, by Pierre-Auguste Renoir. Glimpsing back at the painting, I felt a wave of melancholy at that 1870 oil on canvas conveying a dashing gentleman with his hand held out to assist his lover up the grassy bank, the flirtatious turn of her head hinting this was a new and thrilling love.

I wanted to go back in time and warn her away from him.

Hurrying onward, I flew around the corner and arrived in the vast showroom displaying a series of masterpieces.

My heels echoed on white marble as they carried me to the center of the large space where I would find her, realizing that part of her allure was Tobias’s teasing description of her influence.

Turning, I faced the long stretch of opulent tile stretching beyond and raised my gaze to look at her—the acclaimed Madame Paul Duchesne-Fournet.

Gasping in awe when I saw her...

Madame Duchesne-Fournet was more wondrous than I’d ever imagined, her extraordinary presence emanating out of the frame and leaving me spellbound.

The way her long golden frame hung low on the wall made her appear to be standing right at the end of the gallery.

Waiting for me.

Taking in her natural beauty, those elegant angles of her face, a striking porcelain complexion and pronounced jawline, her refined nose. Most stunning of all was her chestnut gaze that revealed a sharp intelligence and sparked a sense of consciousness. The grandness of her full black gown and plush jacket reflected her status as the wife of a prominent French politician.

As I closed the gap between us, it took all my will not to trace my fingertips along the exquisite canvas—the austere background enhancing her outline and creating realism, her appearance accentuated by the remarkable contrast expertly melding her profile. This was the unmistakable technique of “sfumato,” one of the four canonical painting modes often used in Renaissance art. Painting in this mode was a rare skill mastered by Henner and proved his talent at layering colors and tones and shading them into one another to provide boldness and, when needed, a subtlety of form.

A sigh of respect left my lips.

What message had Tobias been trying to tell me by inviting me here to see her? Perhaps he’d wanted me to know he truly understood me and that this painting would somehow endear me to him more because of our mutual admiration for art. Perhaps he wanted me to know our connection was as deep as I believed it to be.

A living, breathing masterpiece.

Reluctantly, I drew my gaze away and glanced at my watch.

I was right on time for my appointment with Mr. Wilder. Three days ago I’d reached out to Maria Perez, his senior curator, and informed her I’d be paying their gallery a visit.

I’d texted Tobias and warned him he better meet me here or there would be consequences. As expected, he’d ghosted me, refusing to reply. Considering this was the phone he’d gifted me and it now served as a tracking device to my whereabouts, I was sure he’d gotten the message.

He was wise enough to turn up.

Back in the lobby, I made polite conversation with the receptionist to prove my credentials and confirm my meeting.

The tall, young steward left her station behind the round desk and guided me briskly along, escorting me back through the foyer and a long hallway to the sprawling office space of the gallery.

We continued all the way down until we paused before a door with his name and title carved into the opaque glass.

She gestured for me to go ahead and with a nod of gratitude I turned the handle and stepped inside—

He wasn’t here yet.

Shame swept over me that I’d allowed my life to come to this, become so enamored that merely standing here I questioned my moral code. This office, this gallery, represented Tobias, and I hated him because I loved everything about it.

How elegant and modern with that expensive central desk upon which sat the thin computer screen and a sleek keyboard beside it. The shelving behind was stacked neatly with books on art and others on travel; the one on American history had tipped on its side.

His presence lingered like a dark dream that had once owned my soul.

A rush of panic—

No.

Please, no.

There, adorning the far left wall was a familiar painting; a ghost from my past.

All air was gone from the room until nothing remained as I struggled to draw back on my dread, wrapping my arms around myself to hold off this stark chill soaking into my bones.

Lips trembling, I neared the portrait of St. Joan of Arc.

My Joan.

I reached up, grasping either side of her wooden frame and lifted her off the wire.

I’d grown up with Walter William Ouless’s St. Joan and couldn’t remember a time when her portrait hadn’t been part of my father’s collection. It broke my heart when I remembered his devastation when he thought she’d been destroyed in that house fire, along with most of the others.

This very portrait had turned up at Christie’s auction house weeks ago in London, alighting a family scandal because she wasn’t meant to exist anymore.

More recently, St. Joan’s disappearance from Christie’s had seen her included in the list of art crimes tracked by the police across Europe. And yet here she was placed to taunt me.

Her message clear—

My future in the art world was in his hands.

I hugged St. Joan, clutching her tight to my chest, sucking in deep breaths of despair that she was no longer mine.

Unless...

To think of rescuing her and walking right through that foyer and out the front door was ridiculous. I’d never get away with it.

No.

Madness.

My life was carved into two parts, before Wilder and after him, with each careful step leading me toward this complex, enigmatic man with the lines of right and wrong blurring. If I truly wanted to succeed, truly wanted to save him after risking so much, I’d have no choice but to push myself beyond anything I’d done before.

Ironically, it was Tobias who’d shown me how to challenge myself and learn how to resist fear.

He’s shown me the way.

2

Rising up and dispelling this temporary moment of stupidity, I saw a stocky security guard standing just inside the door and staring me down.

“Miss,” he said, louder than needed. “Place the painting on the desk, please.”

My breath stuttered. “I was just taking a closer look.”

“Desk, please.” His fingers clenched around his handgun.

With trembling hands I stepped forward and laid St. Joan faceup on the desk. Stepping back, I raised my hands in the air a little. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Yet it is.

Had there not been cameras, or guards, or any other state-of-the-art security, I’d have taken her away with me without looking back. From that guard’s expression he knew it too. With a wave of his hand he warned me to move farther away.

My back met the wall and I froze.

An ice-cold slither of fear spiraling down my spine.

The door opened farther and in stepped a delicate-framed Latino woman, forty or so, those laughter lines now taut with worry. “Ms. Leighton?” Her tone was infused with tension. “I’m Maria Perez.”

“We spoke on the phone?” I said.

The awkwardness forced a shameful silence.

She saw the painting and looked horrified.

“I’m so happy to meet you.” It sounded silly now, my politeness negated by my suspicious behavior.

“Take a seat,” said the guard. “LAPD are on their way.”

My feet refused to move. “Who?”

“We’ve called the police.” Maria’s gaze rose to the small camera set in the upper right-hand corner.

Its lens trained on me.

Panic-stricken, I stared down at St. Joan wondering if Tobias had set a trap. He’d known how beaten up I was about finding her again. He’d witnessed firsthand how incapacitated I’d been when she’d turned up at Christie’s. He’d been the one who had embraced me when my knees had buckled with the strain of realizing she’d not been destroyed.

Vulnerable, ice sliding down my spine.

Then he appeared like a suave apparition—

Tobias Wilder entered briskly and paused just inside the door, his expression unreadable. A flash of power in his dark green gaze as he glanced at his desk.

His glare rising to find me.

Igniting a tremble within as I exhaled a slow, nervous breath. God, I’d almost forgotten how gorgeous he was, how regal and breathtakingly dashing, the way his dark blond hair framed that handsome face, high cheekbones and that strong jawline. The way he moved demurely and yet with a masculine edge that emanated power. I’d swooned too many times at the way he liked to casually tuck his hands into his trouser pockets like he was doing now in that expensive bespoke suit, no tie, and his collar open to add an arrogant flair.

Few people would know that beneath all that formality his left upper arm was inked seductively with an Aborigine symbol and lower on his well-toned body, along the curve of his groin, were inscribed words in Latin. Both in a suit and out of one he’d once rocked my world. An annoying inconvenience remedied by remembering who I was dealing with—

Icon.

And that curve of his lips proved he was garnering pleasure from my reaction to seeing him again.

I’ve fallen into his trap.

Of course, I’d underestimated his brilliance, his foresight, his boldness to break all the rules and let the dust fall where it may.

My stare swept from him to Maria, and then sharply to the guard’s hand twitching on the gun.

“It’s all a big misunderstanding,” I pleaded with Tobias. “Can you tell them...she’s mine?”

“Mr. Byron,” Tobias said darkly. “What do we have here?”

The guard pointed to St. Joan. “Sir, she tried to steal that one.”

Tobias’s frown deepened. “I see.”

Drowning in the consequences of my actions, my mind swirling—that gun freaking me out.

Tobias stood there quietly, merely emanating his usual charisma.

I stepped forward. “Mr. Wilder, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

“Likewise, Ms. Leighton,” he said with a twinkle of mischief.

My tone turned serious. “Your security is top-notch. After a brief sweep of your gallery I’ve confirmed your cameras are well positioned—” I pointed to the guard “—your staff are alert and responsive, and your mechanisms are well concealed.”

Tobias looked amused.

My heart pounded against my rib cage as I steadied my nerves. “Mr. Wilder?” I arched a persuasive brow.

He walked toward the desk and reached for St. Joan and lifted her with ease. He carried the painting across the room and returned her to the wall.

Scraping my teeth across my bottom lip, I willed him to be fair at least, to see reason, to remember we’d shared a passionate love affair. We’d been a couple; once.

Seeing him again was destroying me.

When he turned to face me it was with a deliberate authority and I cursed his waft of heady cologne seeping into my senses.

“Mr. Wilder?” Maria asked for confirmation.

He gave a nod. “Maria, may I introduce Ms. Zara Leighton, art investigator extraordinaire.” He turned to the guard. “Well done, Anton, keep up the good work.”

The guard looked relieved. “So this was a drill, sir?”

Tobias folded his arms across his chest. “Ms. Leighton, how did you find our sensitized marble floor tiles?”

I narrowed my gaze on him. “Looks good to me.”

“Invisible lasers?” He smirked.

“Invisible.”

If Maria was finding any of this suspicious she had every right to.

“Ceiling entry points?” he asked.

“Next on my agenda.” I waved it off.

“Mr. Wilder.” Maria looked worried. “Doesn’t this painting belong to Christie’s?”

He considered her question. “It’s very good isn’t it. Very convincing.”

Her gaze shot to it. “It’s a fake?”

“We can’t have Ms. Leighton walking out with an original, now can we? Imagine what would happen if I had to tackle her to the ground.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “It’s either that or I’m Icon. What do you say, Maria?”

She chuckled. “Silly.”

Tobias gave a confident nod. “Thank you, Anton, Maria, I can take Ms. Leighton from here.”

A rush of relief came flooding in and I went from ice-cold to flushed at the thought of being left alone with him.

Tobias waited until the door shut behind them.

He turned to face me. “How’s the weather in London?”

Wrapping my arms around myself, I ignored his stupid question.

“How are you finding LA?” he added.

“I like the palm trees.”

He walked over to me until he was looming dangerously close. “Jade.”

Snapping me back to reality as I remembered he had an invisible artificial intelligence that followed him everywhere, his home, car and apparently here at The Wilder.

“Deactivate camera in this office,” he ordered.

Had I tipped my chin up I could have pressed my lips to his and felt his mouth upon mine.

“Jade, confirm please.” His breath was minty.

An automated sultry female voice perked up, “Camera off.”

His lips lightly brushed mine.

I stuttered a nervous breath. “She’s talking now?”

“An easy tweak.”

“That’s very clever.”

“I like to please.”

Oh, God.

Now was a bad time for my nipples to bead because he was pressing his chest against mine and he’d feel them.

It wasn’t merely his expression that had softened from moments ago, it was a familiar look of affection in those gorgeous green eyes I’d loved staring into back in London, when we’d shared an unmatched intimacy. Those memories came flooding back, making my body shiver against his as I recalled moving beyond the veil of friendship with this incredible lover. I marveled still at his strength that could control my body just so, fuck me into blissful oblivion from every angle and leave me quivering for more, manipulate me into endless positions of vulnerability, and all for my heightened pleasure. The way his mouth had once glided over my tender flesh as though worshiping every inch of my body, the way his kisses trailed lower still, bestowing an endless array of sensations with his tongue.

My cheeks flushed as my rambling thoughts ran off.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” I stuttered.

His eyes closed for a second. “I understand.”

Why did he have to say it like that? Why couldn’t he just return to the standoffish Tobias I’d first met?

Make this easier.

Because he’s Tobias Wilder, came my dark musing, and he’s got you right where he wants you.

“You came alone?” he said. “Impressive.”

“You ignored my calls?”

“I can reassure you I received all your cat GIFs. They did the trick. Forced me out of hiding, as you can see.”

I refused to smile. “You know why I’m here.”

He broke my gaze and let out a deep sigh.

“You can’t continue with this way of life.”

“My respect for art?”

“When we last spoke you confessed everything to me.”

He looked vague. “Confessed I love you.”

“You’re Icon.”

“To be honest I’m flattered.”

“I saw the evidence in your Oxfordshire home.”

“Fakes removed from the market.”

“Don’t.”

“Are we still discussing my need to kiss you? Or have we moved on?”

“Listen to me, you’re putting yourself in terrible danger. You’ll lose all this.”

“I’ve lost you, Zara, that’s all I care about.”

“Come with me to the police. Admit everything before it’s too late.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Shaking my head, I refused to be seduced further. “I’m going to submit my report this afternoon.”

“Report?”

“It’s ready to email over to Huntly Pierre. It details everything.”

He arched a brow seductively. “Everything?”

“Pertaining to my case, yes.”

“You and I had nothing to do with any of it,” he said, sounding serious. “I need you to believe this.”

“I’ll never know.” I gazed past him. “Jade, turn the camera back on.”

“I’ve reversed your access to her.” He smiled. “I love that color on you. Blue brings out your eyes.”

“I saw the paintings, Tobias. I know who you are.”

He gave a sympathetic smile. “Apparently, while I was away you found a Tibetan singing bowl and returned the stolen item to its rightful owner? Bravo.”

“You mean the one you placed on my kitchen table? And now my fingerprints are all over it. Because you put me in an impossible position.”

Those monks living in Bermondsey’s Buddhist temple, who I’d unwittingly stumbled upon thanks to Tobias’s mischievousness, had more than deserved the return of their sacred singing bowl. Only, for goodness’ sake, did it have to be me who’d committed the heroic and yet highly illegal act?

Tobias looked amused. “Free will is a privilege.”

I pressed my hand to my heart. “You told me that right before your mom died in that plane crash she asked you to return the painting you were transporting. The one by Annibale Carracci, Madonna Enthroned with St. Matthew, to its rightful owner.” I reached out and squeezed his forearm. “You were nine years old. Do you see how it’s affected you?”

“Let’s discuss St. Joan. The painting you just stole.”

“I was merely taking a closer look. Checking her frame to authenticate her.”

“And your findings?”

A lump lodged in my throat and I tried to swallow.

“The original was destroyed in a fire apparently?” he added. “Surely that provides some reassurance.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He pressed his firm chest against mine and I rested my hands to hold him at bay, and yet my fingers scrunched his shirt.

Tobias leaned into my ear. “How did it feel when you held her?”

Turning my head to look at St. Joan, deciphering if these inner tingles were coming from being this close to her again—

His mouth brushed over my ear. “She belongs to you. Holding her felt right. Your connection is soul deep and worth more than her appraisal could ever be. You want her back.”

I cursed myself for looking away.

His last words to me in London hinted there was more to my family history and he knew a secret pertaining to her turning up at Christie’s auction house.

I couldn’t stir the courage to ask him what he meant.

Not yet.

“I wouldn’t have taken her.”

“Yes, you would.” He stepped back and the loss of him wrenched. “Jade, camera on.” He waited for confirmation and then refocused on me. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in LA, Ms. Leighton. We’ve enjoyed having you here.”

“I’ve only been here a day.”

“Pity to cut your visit short. Still, I know they need your certain set of skills back in London.” He gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

Following him out, I walked beside him through the foyer and onward out the glass door exit and into the sun.

“Tobias, please.” I tried to keep up with him.

He refused to make eye contact and bowed his head, taking long strides as he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. “How did you like Madame Paul Duchesne-Fournet?”

“She’s breathtaking.”

“Isn’t she? I knew you’d like her.”

And I wanted desperately to go back in and enjoy her more with him beside me.

The formality felt like a dagger to my heart.

“Tobias, it was wonderful seeing you.” And I meant it. “I’ve missed you.”

At the end of the walkway he paused before a Rolls-Royce Ghost idling on the curb and his gaze swept over me. He looked like he was about to speak and then seemed to think better of it, his attention turning to the falling green hills and beyond them to the speeding cars rushing along a busy freeway.

“Say something,” I pleaded.

“Marshall will drive you to the airport.”

I glanced through the window at his chauffeur, the fortysomething, smartly dressed man with graying temples, waiting patiently.

“I’m not leaving.”

Tobias strolled to the back of the car and tapped the trunk.

Marshall released the trunk and Tobias lifted it the rest of the way. There, lying in the trunk, was my red suitcase.

My jaw dropped at his arrogance.

“I’ve taken care of your stay at the Four Seasons. Your minibar bill nearly wiped me out.” He gave a wry grin until it turned serious. “My jet is fueled and on the runway. It’ll land at Heathrow.”

“You can’t get rid of me.”

“St. Joan of Arc will be waiting for you in London.”

Oh, so this is how it was meant to end.

My heart ached that it had come to this, him blackmailing me with my own painting. More than this, what we’d had now more than ever proved an illusion.

“What will happen if I don’t get on your plane?” I searched his face for the answer.

Was he going to expose St. Joan to the world if I didn’t comply? A sharp stab of fear hit me when I read that in his expression.

He opened the rear door. “It’s over, Zara.”

My heart shattered into a thousand pieces and I refused to look at him, bowing my head as I climbed into the back seat, throwing my handbag ahead of me onto the soft leather.

His ironclad grip wrapped around my upper arm and he drew me out. Tobias yanked me toward him and cupped my face with his strong hands, crushing his lips to mine, and I surrendered, starved for him, needing his roughness. His mouth forced mine wider, his tongue feverishly lashing mine.

I gasped my relief to be back in his arms, swooning at the sensation of our tongues sweeping together, his mouth raging against mine and then softening to console. His eyes closed as he sighed wantonly into my mouth. When his hand slipped to my lower spine and he yanked me against him, my sex throbbed, making me shudder with femininity, my soul soothed and yet aching with the dread of leaving him.

He drew back. “Forgive me. I don’t know any other way.”

“I will stop you.” My gaze lowered to his mouth.

He ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “Why do you insist on destroying me?”

“Because what you’re doing is wrong.”

“I meant my heart, Zara.”

My body trembled with this cruel need for him, as though my mind and body refused to agree this desire couldn’t be more wrong.

“Go.” His lips curved into a smile. “Before I change my mind.”

“What will happen if I stay?”

He shook his head and nudged me into the car and closed the door to seal me inside.

The Rolls drove me away from him.

I peered out to watch Tobias walk back toward The Wilder, his sadness seemingly as torturous as mine. The way he scraped his fingers through his hair hinted at his confliction.

Being wrenched away so suddenly made my chest tighten and I concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths to calm.

“LAX won’t take long, ma’am,” Marshall piped up.

“How long will it take to get there?” I forced a polite smile.

“Half an hour. The 405 looks good. Would you like me to turn up the air-conditioning?”

“No, thank you.” This dreadful chill was already making me tremble.

I don’t want to leave.

There was so much more to see and do and I’d always wanted to visit Rodeo Drive, I painfully mused, pop into Tiffany & Co., and maybe dine in one of the fine restaurants near my hotel, and then of course visit the private art galleries there.

Slumping in my seat I pushed those superficial thoughts away and faced my anguish. I’d failed myself, failed Tobias, and I couldn’t bear the thought I’d let him down because I’d not been strong enough to do what had to be done. I’d let my fear of exposure to scandal affect my judgment.

Icon was taking on history itself and his capture was inevitable. This beautiful man who’d watched his parents die in front of him would be tortured for the rest of his life because of this tragedy. Tobias was playing out some kind of retribution as though trying to salvage his past and dull his pain.

He needed a friend. An advocate who cared. Someone who could make him see sense. Or at least find a way to prevent him from ruining himself.

As I ran over my options I came to terms with the fact that whatever was in my suitcase I could live without.

My hand slid toward the door handle.

The door handle wouldn’t give.

I was bloody well locked inside this Rolls-Royce.

The luxury leather-and-chrome interior highlighted Tobias’s grand lifestyle and in any other circumstances I’d have been thrilled to be taken to the airport in a chauffeur-driven car or have a private jet waiting for me. All I had to do was resign to my fate and I’d be sipping bubbly and heading back to my Notting Hill flat.

Luckily, Marshall hadn’t caught my subtle attempt to escape. Staring through the front window I could see we only had one red light left and we’d be on the freeway. Rummaging through my handbag with my fingers tracing over my passport, I shoved it to the bottom of my purse.

“Oh, no.” I raised my gaze to look at Marshall in the rearview mirror. “I left my passport in the hotel safe.”

“Ma’am, I checked you out of the Beverly Wilshire. Nothing was left behind.”

“You packed my stuff?” I hated the thought of this stranger handling my underwear.

“The concierge took care of it.”

My jaw tightened at the injustice. “It was right in the back of the safe. They missed it. We have to go there.”

“Let me have the concierge take care of it. She’ll have your passport transported to meet us at the VIP lounge at LAX.” He tapped the screen on the dashboard. “Beverly Wilshire.”

With a forced smile, I feigned gratitude for his thoughtfulness and listened to him request the staff to retrieve my passport from my room.

“I know where I left it.” I sounded chirpier then I felt.

Marshall’s eyes met mine in the rearview.

I gestured my relief. “UCLA. I was showing an old professor of mine how different they look now. This issue with the EU had us changing them.” I waved it off as though it was boring. “Would you mind taking me there?”

“The university?”

“Yes, the campus.” I pulled out my phone. “I’ll text him.”

It wasn’t too much of a lie, though. I’d not had the time yet to visit Gabe Anderson—one of my favorite professors at my old alma mater, The Courtauld Institute of Art. Two months ago he’d returned to California to teach Asian art history, a subject he was obsessed with. I didn’t think I’d be taking up Gabe’s invitation to visit him so soon and neither would he.

After Tobias, Gabe was the only other person I knew here.

Marshall turned left when the light flashed green and navigated us east away from the freeway.

It’s going to be okay.

Clothes, that’s all I had in my suitcase, oh, and makeup too. I could go without all of it. There were plenty of shopping malls here so I could buy all the essentials later.

This decision had so many consequences—not the least of which was Tobias’s lingering threat of ruining my reputation if he exposed St. Joan as authentic. He’d gone to so much trouble to steal her from Christie’s after an unknown collector had shipped her from Europe to London for final endorsement. Icon had snatched her away before the specialists had gotten to prove she was real. His ulterior motive was now glaring. That painting served as leverage.

Damn him, he knew the effect he had on me.

The ghost of his kiss lingered on my lips and he still had my hands trembling, or perhaps this was merely the tension I’d been holding from the thought of seeing him again. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t let him throw me off my reason for being here.

Yet here I sat, thrown.

3

Within twenty minutes we were winding our way along the UCLA campus roads, and my heart rate rocketed from my brilliant plan inspired further by the impressive old brick buildings of this bustling college. Students strolled to and from their classes. I imagined Gabe would be happy here amongst all this prestige and academic camaraderie.

My focus returned to Marshall. He looked like a reasonable man.

Discreetly, I reached into my handbag and pulled out my phone. I hated the idea of being without it, but this was the only way I’d be able to evade him. If he skipped town, there was a chance I could find someone with the skill to reverse engineer the signal and track it to him. I was going to have to stash it somewhere safe for now.

“Right over there, please.” I pointed to the Franklin D. Murphy Sculpture Garden.

The car pulled up to the curb.

“I’ll let Mr. Wilder know we’re running late,” said Marshall. “He’ll inform his flight crew.”

I raised my phone and smiled through my lie. “He told me to take all the time I need.”

Marshall narrowed his gaze in the rearview, seemingly unconvinced.

You don’t intimidate me, buddy, not even after you broke into my hotel room and violated my privacy.

“Can you open the door, please?”

He hesitated. “Did you text your professor? Does he have it, miss?”

“I hope so.” My gaze swept the sculpture garden. “I’ll be right back.” I grabbed my handbag ready to bolt.

With a click of the lock I was free and my feet hit the curb with a bounce of triumph. I turned to give a wave of thanks and then realized Marshall was getting out.

“I’ll be quicker alone.” I took off, striding fast through the well-tended garden, passing an array of sculptures, one of them a large golden female torso on a solid granite base. It was beautiful, and I pined to be able to enjoy these modern masterpieces with the attention they deserved and not while running from Tobias’s chauffer. A perky tour guide led a long line of prospective students around the campus. I took advantage of the endless line of people and weaved through them and shut off my phone.

Turning left and a sharp right, I saw the Charles E. Young Research Library up ahead and hurried toward it and with one quick glance back I confirmed I wasn’t being followed—

The atmosphere was expectedly serene and as I strolled toward the reception desk situated to the right of the glass foyer, I threw a big smile to the librarian, a man in his thirties who was slim and studious looking with his head buried in a book. He frowned his interest when he greeted me.

Within minutes I was heading down the staircase to the rare book reading room after providing a convincing performance as a foreign student. Throwing in some academic jargon that gave me the credibility I needed along with my unusual request to see their out-of-print edition of a collection of paintings by Paul Gauguin from the late 1800s. Gauguin was a famed painter, printmaker and sculptor, and this was the first rare book that came to mind.

I made my way into the air-sealed room, respectful of the other students, and picked up a pair of white gloves out of a wooden box on a corner table and pulled them on. Instead of looking for the book on Gauguin, I pulled a first edition biography on William Shakespeare off the shelf that in any other circumstance would have had my full attention. I pretended to read it.

Tobias might very well hold a press conference to announce the suspicious provenance of my St. Joan. Then again, with one phone call from me, the police would turn their attention on him and his days of thievery would be over or at least stilted.

Though I believed Tobias wouldn’t hurt me. We were at an impasse.

I needed time to rethink my strategy and if this is what it took, me throwing caution to the wind and trusting my gut, then so be it.

When the room emptied of visitors I returned the first edition to its shelf, pulled off the gloves and returned them to their wooden box. I carried my phone over to the oak book cabinet, knelt and reached around to stash my phone behind it.

There, it was done.

I exited the reading room and headed over to the wall phone. Within a few seconds I was speaking to the campus operator and asking to be put through to Professor Gabe Anderson’s office.

“Zara?” Gabe answered with that American brightness.

“Professor Anderson?” There came a wave of comfort at hearing his voice again.

“What a lovely surprise. Where are you?”

“I stopped off at the antiques reading room. You know how I love old books. Are you busy?”

“Never.” He gave a sigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Your chauffer was here looking for you.”

Oh, no, Marshall had found Gabe’s office. He must have called his boss to tell him he’d lost me, and then Tobias had immediately searched The Courtauld’s teacher database and cross-referenced it with all the professors at UCLA. How easy it would have been to track down Gabe. Tobias had then directed Marshall to find him on the campus. All in under fifteen minutes.

“Why would I have your passport?” Anderson sounded concerned. “Haven’t seen you in three months.”

“It’s a misunderstanding. Is he still there?”

“He headed off to look for you. He left his number. Shall I call him?”

“No, it’s fine.” I wondered if Marshall might be trying to follow the GPS in the phone I’d just stashed, the same one Tobias had conveniently gifted me.

“Is now an okay time?” I asked.

“Of course. I’m in Boelter Hall, office 112.”

“I’ll be right there.”

After asking the librarian for directions I headed out of the library, weaving my way along the college lanes.

There came a rush of relief when I saw Professor Anderson waiting for me outside his office door. I hurried toward him and gave him a big hug. He gestured for me to follow him into his office but I hesitated for a second, wondering if Marshall might come back. Still, if he did I could handle him. It wasn’t like he’d be able to force me back into his limo.

I made my way in and shut the door. “It’s so wonderful to see you, Professor.”

“Call me Gabe. I had no idea you were in LA?” He pointed to one of the two armchairs in the corner for me to sit. “Tea?”

“No, thank you.”

His office was an organized chaos with files stacked high on his desk and his impressive collection of Asian history books lined up along the dark wooden shelf. An empty coffee mug. Gabe was wearing his usual tweed jacket and black slacks to offset being in his early thirties, and his raven locks still flopped over his kind eyes.

“Zara, so good to see you. I hear you got hired at Huntly Pierre?”

“Yes, as an art specialist. Sorry I didn’t call you to let you know I was visiting LA. I meant to.”

“Are you on vacation?”

“Kind of. Mixing work with pleasure.” And as I was unofficially in California that version sat well with me.

“Where are you staying?”

“Beverly Wilshire.” I cringed inwardly, recalling how Tobias had unceremoniously checked me out of my hotel room.

“Your chauffeur told me you lost your passport?”

“Did he bother you? I’m sorry.”

“No, he wanted to help you out.” Gabe stood and reached for a Post-it note on his desk. “Here’s his number.”

I took it from him. “Thank you.”

He sat back down. “How long are you here?”

“A week.”

“On behalf of Huntly Pierre?”

“Kind of. To be honest I’m going a little rogue. Using my free time to investigate a lead.”

He laughed. “My little librarian?”

I deserved that I suppose. I’d been one of his quieter students and only revealed a spark of personality when I handed in my papers that always came back with an A+.

It didn’t take us long to catch up and it was lovely to hear how he was now living in Brentwood with his boyfriend, Ned, a technology strategist for a firm in Menlo Park, though Gabe said he worked from home most days.

The last few hours had felt like a whirlwind of emotions and seeing my old professor filled me with happiness; Gabe was the connection to home I’d needed even if he was here now.

Jet lag caught up and I suppressed a yawn. “I need to call a taxi.”

“I can drive you.”

“I’m fine. But thank you.”

He stood and reached for his phone. “Where are you going?”

“Can you recommend a hotel? I need to be closer to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art.”

“The Sofitel? It’s also near the Beverly Center. It’s a big shopping center and is just across the street.”

“Perfect.”

Gabe made the call and requested the cab park in front of Boelter Hall. With that done he scribbled a number on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Here’s my cell.”

“Thank you.” I tucked it into my handbag.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me at a cocktail party tomorrow night?”

“Where?”

“The Broad. One of my students is showcasing his collection as part of a youth program at the gallery.”

My attention spiked with the thought of visiting one of the city’s most distinguished museums that was on my list to check out. “I’d love to go.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven. It’s black-tie.”

“I have just the thing.” Ironically a dress that rogue Wilder had bought me back in London.

I gave Gabe a big hug and followed the pathway toward the entrance of Boelter Hall, all the while glancing around for Marshall. When I reached the grassy bank, I saw my taxi idling at the curb. Settling in the back of the car I looked forward to checking into the Sofitel hotel and, just as Gabe suggested, visiting the shopping center. I needed to replace the contents of my suitcase.

Staring out at the passing scenery, the enormity of what I was taking on hit me. I had less than a week to collate data from every single gallery, along with private collections in LA, the kind that might draw the attention of a thief. For now, at least, I had a motive to go on; a broken provenance consistently occurring with each painting stolen by Icon. A gargantuan task that would quite frankly have been impossible without my access to Huntly Pierre’s newly developed software. An ingenious processing program that collated the art collections of international galleries with details including their individual history. This ability was now part of my investigative tool kit.

Why couldn’t all this be simple? Why wasn’t the enigmatic Tobias who I’d fallen hard for just an ordinary man who I could date without all this drama? Our worlds were clashing and the fallout was going to leave nothing but two broken people if I wasn’t careful.

It hurt knowing Tobias was in the same city and I couldn’t see him. Being so close to him at The Wilder Museum had reminded me he was dangerously seductive. Recalling the way he’d pressed his body against mine with all that hard muscle and boundless power threatened to make me lose focus.

I’d always wanted to visit The Broad, famed for its avant-garde reputation, and I couldn’t wait to explore the endless showrooms.

That’s it, think of a vast, frigid gallery instead of Wilder and refocus your brain on why you’re here.

After paying for my cab, I climbed out and headed toward the impressive front door of the Sofitel.

“Miss,” the taxi driver called after me.

I turned to face him and froze—

He was retrieving a red suitcase out of the trunk of his cab.

Mine.

He handed it over to a young valet who rushed it past me, throwing a welcoming smile.

The blood drained from my face as I realized Marshall had realized the cab was for me and had placed it in there before I’d left Gabe’s office.

Tobias is bloody relentless.

4

My reflection in the hotel bedroom mirror was the epitome of a young woman putting on a brave face. This Escada gown clung like spun gold to my curves and these delicate fine straps with their diamond beading caught the light; the back so low it hovered just above my butt to blend glamour with a sassy chic.

“Why did you even bring this dress?” I whispered to myself, though my eyes answered with a hope for a reconciliation with Tobias. I broke my gaze, focusing instead on my strappy high heels—the ones Tobias bought me during that wild weekend when we’d stayed at The Dorchester hotel just weeks ago.

My stomach muscles tightened with all the uncertainty.

No matter how cozy this room was with its long velvet drapes or welcoming seating area, it wasn’t home. I’d spent much of the day reading everything I could about Tobias online. Not one article hinted at any misdemeanors or bad boy behavior, unless you counted the socialites he flaunted, hanging off his arm in those glamor shots of him arriving or leaving exclusive social events.

Of all the possible scenarios of my reunion with him yesterday, being placed on a plane and sent back to London within moments of seeing him wasn’t one of them.

Raising my chin high I gave myself a confident nod of approval that I’d handled myself well when he’d tried to push his agenda on me. Turning my thoughts to tonight, I ran my fingers through my auburn locks that I’d styled elegantly to tumble over my shoulders, and I dabbed my soft pink lipstick as I finished applying my makeup.

I couldn’t wait to be inside The Broad and it made me smile to know I was going there now. Grabbing my clutch purse and heading out of my room I had a bounce in my step and I even rode the elevator with my newfound confidence, the residue from my phobia of lifts having eased slightly; because of him.

Gabe was waiting for me in the hotel foyer and his eyes widened when he saw me. “What’s Rita Hayworth doing at the Sofitel?” he called out.

I responded with a confident turn and a flirty flick of my hair.

He looked gorgeous in a snazzy black tuxedo. “Almost didn’t recognize you there,” he said. “No cardigan?”

I gave him a playful thump. “Left it back in England.”

“You look...wow.”

“You look amazing yourself.”

“Let’s go see some art.”

The valet brought around Gabe’s blue Audi R8 and, with the inspirational music of Sia playing as an atmospheric backdrop, we drove along Beverly Boulevard.

“How are you?” He glanced over to me.

“I’m fine. Looking forward to tonight.”

“So what’s this case you’re on?”

“It’s related to a painting my dad once owned.” I mulled over what was safe to add. “St. Joan of Arc was one of the paintings that was allegedly destroyed in my house fire. A few weeks ago, it turned up at Christie’s in London.”

“Maybe he sold it? You were very young when all that happened.”

“There is that.” I preferred to deflect from the fact my father wouldn’t have let any of them go.

The passing scenery was fascinating with its modern skyscrapers in between quaint stores, and there was an unsettling sense of the traffic going the wrong way. I tried not to think that somewhere out there Tobias was going on with his life.

Gabe gave a sideways glance. “Anyone special in your life?”

“No.” I hated to finally admit this. “There was someone but it didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

I turned to face him. “You’re happy?”

“Ned’s easygoing so we’re a good fit.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “No bad boys, okay? No matter how much we want to jump their bones.”

He made me chuckle.

“Any decent man would snap you up in a heartbeat,” he added.

Half an hour later we’d arrived on Grand Avenue in downtown LA and were pulling up to the striking honeycombed structure of The Broad. Gabe handed over his car keys to the valet and we headed on in.

Within minutes we were sipping bubbly from tall flutes and sighing with happiness at being back in our natural habitat. With over two thousand paintings and sculptures to view we were in our element. This high-ceilinged space with the remnants of daylight flowing through ornate windows and highlighting all this modern elegance.

A waiter took our empty glasses and we rode the escalator through the second-floor ceiling, the design providing a womb-like feel as we ascended. At the top, we were met by an awe-inspiring sculpture by Jeff Koons, a glorious display of enormous gathered tulips in bright colors including gold, blue, purple and green—all lying upon a thin white base.

Strolling into another room, our attention was captured by a three-dimensional design resting on a high table. At one end was a small body of water that burst from a steel container and morphed into a waterfall, pouring into a cavern which turned a large wheel. Beyond that it ran into a small-scale hallway and within its walls shot out vibrant blue miniature electric rays crisscrossing each other.

“What’s this one?” asked Gabe.

I studied the gold plaque on the side. “Mousetrap for the Inevitable.” I read on, “‘Designed to draw out the subject and test its endurance.’”

Gabe stepped forward. “‘Where usually form follows function, here American architect E. B.’s design represents form as art reflecting the power of self-regulation.’”

I pointed to the water forcing the wheel around. “It’s an ingenious mechanism.”

“What happens to the mouse?”

My cringe was my answer as I mused over the kind of person who had invented this. I respected modern art and was thrilled to pass by the striking pieces by Andy Warhol, Cindy Sherman and Barbara Kruger, all of them making my heart soar. We made our way through the well-dressed crowd who’d gathered for the reception. I paused awhile to admire The Balloon Dog, an enormous blue balloon-shaped masterpiece by Koons. It was such a fun piece and Gabe joked how he could only afford the miniature one sold in the gift shop.

He pointed out his young student Terrance Hill, who was greeting guests across the showroom. Gabe shared with me how the young man was fatherless and yet his inspiring talent and determination had earned him a scholarship at UCLA.

Gabe stared on proudly. “Terrance excelled in my art history class but found his true calling is modern art. He has my blessing, of course.”

The bright young star with neat dreadlocks wore the brightest smile, and I guessed the pretty fortysomething black woman by his side was his proud mom.

We headed on over to them to offer our congratulations. Terrance was enjoying his well-deserved praise as private collectors swarmed him, wanting to meet this gifted young man who’d set the art world alight.

His paintings were featured around the walls. Gabe and I took our time to admire each one and I marveled at Terrance’s gift of layering colors and his use of texture. He was being hailed as a young Jackson Pollock and I could see why.

Turning to face the crowd, my breath caught when I saw a vision of pure masculine beauty—Tobias Wilder.

He was here.

Sipping from an amber drink and looking ridiculously sharp in a black tuxedo with his hair predictably ruffled to perfection, so damn gorgeous as he smiled his response to something a middle-aged couple were saying to him. God, now he was doing that thing where he arched his brows as he listened with sincerity, seemingly engrossed in conversation, his left hand tucked into his trouser pocket as he leaned forward to engage with them.

A jolt of reality hit me when I saw his ex-girlfriend and powerhouse attorney Logan Arquette standing beside him. She was wearing a pretty green gown and her usual cold glare.

My body froze when Tobias’s stare found me in the crowd and his expression reflected intrigue.

“Is that Tobias Wilder?” asked Gabe quietly.

“Yes.”

He snapped his head to look at me. “You’ve met him?”

I managed a subtle nod, though kept my stare on Wilder.

“Where?” Gabe sounded incredulous.

“London. He’s a client of Huntly Pierre.” A quick glance over at Gabe told me that placated him.

I wondered how Tobias felt about me evading his driver yesterday.

Gabe grabbed my arm. “He’s coming this way.”

Tobias and Logan strolled toward us, confidently nodding here and there at the other guests who parted respectfully for them.

My back straightened as they neared us and I decided to go with a customary, “Mr. Wilder, nice to see you again.”

Gabe flashed me another look of surprise.

Tobias gave a warm smile. “Zara.”

A seductive chill spiraled up my spine and I went for my best stony-faced expression to match his amused demeanor.

Wilder wore that dazzling suit as though some artisan had carved it over his muscular physique to highlight his firm chest and broad shoulders, and his grin widened just enough to hide that he was strategizing.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce Professor Gabe Anderson, art historian.” I gestured to them. “Tobias Wilder and Logan Arquette.”

“Nice to see you, Zara.” Logan’s tone lacked sincerity and she looked triumphant as her arm wrapped through Tobias’s in a blatant gesture of possessiveness. Her flirting was being used against me to lessen my resolve.

“Quite the exhibition,” said Tobias.

Gabe responded with praise for Tobias’s own gallery and he told him how much he loved The Wilder’s reputation for its exclusive exhibits they were famed for.

“We have something very special coming to The Wilder.” Logan zeroed in on Gabe. “It’s something you’ll find particularly appealing if you love history.”

“Top secret for now,” added Tobias, fixing his attention on me.

The full force of his power hit me and his stare held me captive.

A memory flittered through my mind of the way he’d once touched me; a mesmerizing strength and tenderness and there came a stark recollection of the way he made me come so very hard.

Think about something else.

Anything else.

Why did he have to look at me like this? As though we weren’t over.

“Please excuse me,” I said. “There’s a Doug Aitken piece I’m dying to see.”

I felt rude for leaving Gabe with them, but I needed to put distance between us. Tobias’s glare was burning my back as I walked into the next room. Avoidance was probably the best way to get through tonight.

I willed myself to concentrate on the gold plaque before me. The word now had been enlarged to a three-dimensional wall model and was filled with a collage of images.

The last place I wanted to be was in the now.

“Zara.” Tobias’s voice exuded a deadly seduction.

A jolt of uncertainty trailed up my spine.

He stood a few feet away. “You look beautiful. I love that dress on you. I’m glad you wore it tonight.”

I wanted to believe his words were a peace offering but the way his fierce gaze held mine reminded me of our goodbye outside The Wilder. He had that same look now in those green eyes.

I turned to go. “I have to find Gabe.”

He reached out and held my wrist. “Dance with me.”

He was torturing me with physical contact; his firm touch reminding me what I’d lost, his sensual grip dangerously persuasive.

“I can’t.”

He arched a brow. “You moved on fast.”

“Gabe’s a friend.”

“I was worried I’d have to challenge him to a duel.” He grinned devilishly. “Have you any idea how stunning you look?”

Evidently he knew how gorgeous he looked too, because he was using his magnetism to manipulate me into spending more time with him.

“Boundaries,” I said firmly. “What does that word mean to you?”

“In what respect?”

“You broke into my hotel room and stole my suitcase.”

He came closer. “I believe it was the concierge.”

“Under your orders.”

And he’d tracked down Gabe at UCLA. Seriously, did he expect me to forget that?

“Zara, dance with me.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I could say the same.”

“The artist is one of Gabe’s students.”

Tobias gave a mischievous smirk. “Don’t force me to dance with Professor Anderson.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll fall for your charm.”

“Yesterday, I should have explained myself better.”

I placed my hands on my hips and waited for him to finish his thought.

His frown deepened. “One dance. Or...”

“Or what?”

“Don’t tempt me with refusing, Leighton.” He arched an amused brow. “Or there will be consequences.”

“In what way?”

“I’m still a client of Huntly Pierre. Do it for them. You can always think of England.” He winked.

I relented with a nod and when his hand rested on the lower curve of my spine, I resisted the desire to close my eyes and lean into him as though there was no tension between us. Tobias guided me into a cocktail lounge and led me toward the small crowd slow dancing to Nina Simone, her sultry tones setting the scene for romance.

He pulled me into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

I let Tobias take the lead as I rested my right hand on his shoulder, my left sliding against his right palm, his fingers closing around mine. The way his body crushed against me felt deceptively good and caused my body to tingle deliciously. My nipples further betrayed me by hardening in response to his provocative cologne.

“I think this might be my all-time favorite gallery,” I said.

“What about The Wilder?”

“What about it?”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip to tease him and there came a rush of exhilaration when his pupils dilated with arousal revealing I was having the same effect on him. He waltzed me around and we fit together annoyingly well.

Why couldn’t this be us? Two lovers enjoying a romantic evening without the looming inevitability of this ending badly.

“Zara, you’re intoxicating.” He gave a heart-stopping grin.

“Don’t!” I wasn’t falling for his flattery.

He spun me around and my feet became light as he whisked me along with a smooth glide. He yanked me against his firm chest and then stilled, his mouth lingering perilously close to mine. Our eyes locked on each other as the world fell away. Those specks of gold in his green irises were hypnotic.

His grip tightened. “How’s the Sofitel?”

Adrenaline surged through me. “Lovely.”

He nuzzled close to my ear. “I’m glad you came.”

I leaned back to see him better. “Tell me how to get through to you?”

He tipped me backward and held me suspended in a scooped pose low in his arms as he leaned forward to whisper, “Tell me you want me.”

“Everyone’s watching.”

“Say it.”

“Let me up.”

“Say it first.”

“Tobias, I’m serious.”

“Not until you say it.” His mouth brushed mine.

I nipped his lower lip and he let out a moan of pleasure and flipped me up and yanked my body to his again, his hardness digging in to my lower stomach.

He arched an amused brow. “Now we’re going to have to dance until my dignity returns. I blame you.”

A rush of desire at being in his arms again flooded through me. I was fast becoming drunk with arousal from the way he was holding me so masterfully.

My words spilled out in a flurry. “Mr. Wilder, you misled me—”

“No, Zara.”

“If you care about me you’ll not taunt me like this.”

“Of course I care about you.”

“What is this?”

“I’m forgiving you.”

“What for?”

He looked surprised. “Your sneak attack on me tonight. I’m completely defenseless against you.”

“I have to get back to Gabe.”

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

“So you can send me out of the country again?”

“Technically, you never left.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I will have you again,” he said with an edge of danger. “I know you want that too.”

The room was spinning.

Tobias’s glare fixed on me fiercely as though he needed to see I wanted this. These were the words I’d craved to hear but I was past being led astray. I looked over his shoulder so I could access these remnants of strength that were evading me.

“Zara, you misjudged me. Let me prove it to you.”

No, and my anguished expression told him that. “Let me go.”

And let me go...

He stepped back. “Let’s talk at least.”

I raised my chin high, pretending he had no effect on me. He went to say something but instead he quickly broke my glare.

“I can find my own way.” I rushed from him, needing to put distance between us as my heart shattered. This chill reached my bones and my mind felt dazed from the confliction of seeing him again.

Gabe waved my way to get my attention. “Looks like you’ve swept one of America’s most wanted off his feet.”

“Most wanted?”

“Bachelors,” he said. “Look at him.”

Tobias was standing beneath an archway and he was staring right at me, his expression marred with confusion in a haunting reminder of what could never be.

I spun around to break the intensity of Wilder’s confident stance and faced one of Terrance’s paintings, focusing on the bright canvas while trying to find my center again and fight this wavering desire to believe there could be an us.

The plaque beside Terrance’s painting stated this one was called Unpredictable.

The young artist had seemingly channeled his emotions onto the large canvas. It spoke in ways I couldn’t define. There was freshness to it, a vibrancy and a seeming grasp of pain someone so young shouldn’t know.

Perhaps seeing Tobias tonight wasn’t a coincidence. No, surely he wouldn’t hit a gallery with me here? His words of affection had been used to distract me. He’d used his charm and done his worst to send me reeling. I’d almost fallen for him all over again.

I went in search of him, recalling Icon’s MO and remembering he always cut the power before a heist. He always zapped the security cameras and he always left no trace. With all these guests milling around, the guards were more easily distracted.

I hurried out of the showroom with my chest tight with tension, on through the expansiveness, scanning the many faces of the guests roaming freely as I weaved my way around them.

There he was—

Sitting alone on a wooden bench and people watching, his intelligent eyes taking everything in. He glanced at his watch and then pushed himself to his feet and strolled eastward down a long hallway.

After turning a corner, I saw him standing at the end, casually leaning against a wall and scrolling through his phone. I wondered if this was how he deactivated the security system, by using some gadget app he’d invented.

With a confident stride I headed toward him. He showed surprise when he saw me.

“What are you doing?” I said firmly.

He raised his phone. “You didn’t answer my text.”

“Didn’t bring it.” Because it’s stashed away in a library at UCLA, I mused proudly.

“You should always carry a charged phone.”

I folded my arms. “Are you going to hit this place?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me get you a drink.”

The room to his left was flooded in darkness and yet the rest of the gallery glared beneath fluorescent lights.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you up to?”

He feigned innocence. “Enjoying the art.”

I stepped left to peer into the dark showroom.

His frown deepened. “You can’t see that one tonight.”

“Really?”

He gestured to the rope cordoning it off. “Out of order.”

“That’s convenient. I wonder who put that there.”

“The staff, I imagine. There’s a fault with the sensors.”

I moved toward the door and he grabbed my arm.

“Let go, please.”

His hand snapped away and his back straightened. “There’s a good reason it’s cordoned off.”

“I’m sure there is.” I threw him a look of triumph and climbed over the rope and headed in, pulling the strap of my purse across my chest and easing it behind me.

“Zara,” he called after me, “I was standing in front of the sign.”

I turned and forced a smile. “Am I ruining your plan?”

“You can’t be in here.”

Yes, buddy, I’ve caught you in the act.

Passing the first impressively large portrait on the left of a holographic tornado, I admired its realism. Though with merely digits and codes it wouldn’t be worth anything and was impossible to steal. Walking onward there was the footage of a hurricane at sea with rolling waves; a living, breathing masterpiece. Next, an image of the sun shining brightly and I shielded my eyes trying to figure out what would be so appealing in any of these.

My heel caught in the ground and I peered down at the tiny holes in the floor tiles.

Fuck.

“Hurry!” Tobias was inside the rope and frantically gesturing. “This is the rain room!”

I gawped toward the sound of rushing air.

A deluge of rain—drenching me.

When I opened my eyes, I blinked through the blur of water at a horror-stricken Tobias. The rain ceased, though a few droplets still hit my head as my hair squished to my scalp. My dress clung horribly. I’d become the exhibit.

Careful with his footing on the slippery floor, Tobias hurried over and shrugged out of his jacket.

Breathing through these waves of panic... Oh, no, I’d ruined this lovely dress. Wiping water out of my eyes, I looked up at him. “It’s Escada.”

“I love it.” He gave a sympathetic smile. “Both versions.” He wrapped his jacket around my shoulders.

I welcomed the warmth with a sigh. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Tobias cupped my cheeks and leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and comforting against mine, my mouth tingling, my need for him relighted as I almost forgot this was forbidden.

He broke away and gave a reassuring tug on his jacket to bring it further around my shoulders. “You have a funny way of trying to save me, Zara Leighton.”

I gave a shrug of surrender and shivered.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled me into a hug.

“You’ll get wet.” I nudged him away.

“Come on.”

Trudging toward the exit behind him, I paused briefly to wring water out of my hem. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing me like this.

How embarrassing.

As I stepped out into the hallway the stark chill made me tremble.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Tobias rubbed his hand up and down my back.

Gabe walked briskly toward us in a flurry of concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

My teeth chattered. “Bit of an accident.”

“Why did you go in there?” He threw a glare at Tobias.

“I’ve never known it to rain in a gallery.” I mean whose idea was this, anyway, and what purpose did it achieve? Where I came from it rained almost every bloody day.

“It’s out of service.” Tobias gave a look of resignation. “The motion detectors are meant to pick up movement—”

“Stop the water hitting you when they detect you’re beneath,” added Gabe. “I love this one. When it works.”

“Is my makeup smudged?”

“It’s a new look for you.” Gabe gave a shrug. “Party girl.”

Oh, no.

Running my fingertips beneath my eyes I tried to wipe away the mascara.

Gabe reached out and took my purse off me and gave it a shake. “I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

“Do you have leather seats?” Tobias inflected concern. “This water—” he pointed to me “—will ruin them. What do you drive?”

Gabe frowned. “Audi R8.”

Tobias cringed. “Leather seats?”

“I’ll get a taxi,” I piped up.

“No cab will accept you like this,” said Gabe.

“It’s settled, then,” said Tobias. “I’m taking you.” He reached out and grabbed my purse from Gabe. “We’ll go out the back to avoid the press.”

“Press?” It came out as a screech.

“They’re out front ready to get their money shot.” Tobias waggled his eyebrows. “Looks like you’re it.”

Gabe gave me a reassuring smile. “Zara, come to Brentwood and have lunch with me tomorrow. I have the afternoon off.”

“I’d love that,” I said.

He stepped forward and kissed my cheek. “Call me. Let me know you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m so sorry. Please stay and enjoy the evening.”

Gabe lit up with an impressed smile. “We so appreciate this, Mr. Wilder.”

My glare chastised him for being so enamored.

That’s Wilder’s superpower, I silently warned Gabe, he sweeps you up and saves the day and then you go and fall for him.

All very inconvenient.

When we stepped out the back of the gallery I was at least reassured by the warm climate. One phone call on the way and Tobias had his posh-looking silver Ferrari waiting for us. He tipped the young valet, who was polite enough not to look my way before he hurried off.

“What about your seat?” I peered into his beautiful car.

“It’ll be fine.”

“But you have leather seats?”

“And?”

“They’ll be ruined.”

His grin widened.

I fisted my hands and rested them on my hips. “You told Gabe—”

A flash went off.

“Get in!” Tobias snapped. “You drive.”

Blinking through the fading glare of a flashbulb, I watched a young man on a skateboard zooming away along the pavement. Tobias leaped over the car door into the passenger seat. Dread spiked my veins as I scurried around to the driver’s side and pulled open the door, threw his jacket down to protect the seat and flung myself in.

“Drive,” said Tobias. “We can catch him.”

Staring at the control panel I panicked when I realized this was an automatic. “I’ve only driven an automatic once.”

“Please hurry. He’s getting away.”

“I don’t know how.”

“For God’s sake, Zara. Grow a pair.”

“You grow a pair.”

He looked back at me, amused. “You’ve already had the pleasure of being acquainted with my—”

“Tobias!”

“Okay, then, Jade, you drive.”

“What!”

“Seat belt. Now.”

The engine roared to life and I tried to remember to breathe, grappling with my seat belt as the car pulled away from the curb and accelerated along the road.

“What the fuck is going on?” I slammed my hand to my mouth.

Tobias jumped up into a crouching position on his seat and then brought his right foot onto the window ledge as though surfing as he leaned out.

“Careful.” I gripped the wheel and then let go when it turned freely.

“Thirty miles an hour, Jade,” Tobias snapped. “Make that forty.”

Our Ferrari aligned with the skateboarder zipping along and the man gawked when he saw us. Tobias reached out and snatched the camera from him and then flung himself back into his seat. As we sped along he turned the camera screen for me to see.

I stared horrified at the shot of me looking completely naked beneath my wet dress as though I wasn’t wearing any underwear. Tobias removed the memory card and tucked it into his pocket.

“Jade,” he ordered. “Park.”

The Ferrari slowed and then parked curbside. Tobias flung open his door and climbed out. He leaned against the car and waited for the skateboarder to catch up. He threw his camera back to him.

The man looked shaken. “I’ll report this,” he snarled. “This is harassment.”

Tobias gave a confident smile. “Without evidence?” He gestured for me to switch seats and then came around to the driver’s side. “Tell your boss ‘Hi’ from me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Have a great evening.” Tobias snapped a salute.

After sliding over to the passenger seat, and pulling his jacket back over me, I felt grateful to see the man skate off without my naked image on his camera.

Tobias watched him scoot off down the sidewalk. “He’s paparazzi.”

“Thank you.” I reached out to squeeze Tobias’s arm.

Once that photo was unleashed on the internet there’d be no turning back. That was the second time he’d saved me tonight. And of course, if anyone had a self-steering car it would be Wilder.

He stared dead ahead with his face scrunched in discomfort.

I’d left a wet seat. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled the car away from the curb. “You have enough time.”

“For what?”

“To come up with an elaborate plan on how you’re going to make it up to me.” He grinned at his cheekiness. “Let’s go home.”

A flutter of excitement swirled around my stomach at the thought he was taking me to his house.

“Warm enough?” He fiddled with the dial to blow heat over me.

Get a grip, Zara, I warned myself, remember the mission. Tonight, I could have access to the kind of evidence that could stop Icon.

I had what it took to save this man.

5

We arrived at Tobias’s Malibu home within the hour.

He led me around the side of the impressive house and into the garden. The scenery exuded peacefulness, from the lavish lawn to those towering palm trees and the sun loungers surrounding the infinity swimming pool, all overlooked by his Mediterranean mansion.

I imagined it was just as beautiful in there.

It was easy to become distracted by the awe-inspiring ocean view and the rhythmic sound of lapping waves rising over the bluff.

A few stars twinkled through the cloudy sky and the cool breeze brushed over me, making me grateful for the warmth emanating from the heat lamps he’d turned on.

Tobias eased my wet gown over my hips, and I stepped out of it so happy to be free of the clingy dampness. He laid it on the back of a lounger and neared me again to remove my shoes, his caresses comforting and making my skin tingle beneath his touch. He eased my panties down my legs and threw them toward the dress. I swooned when he stood behind me and unclipped my bra and removed that too. He wrapped a soft towel around me.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off, undressing, and all the while giving me an endearing smile.

God, all this beauty—

That tattoo on his left shoulder was dazzling with its Aboriginal symbolism and served as a warning this was no ordinary man. And God, I was enraptured by that inked italic writing running along the side of his groin that he’d once translated for me as “Retribution where there is none. He who is about to win salutes you.”

This man was wild and dangerously smart and oh so mesmerizing, a vortex of erotic pleasures waiting to be explored. If I allowed myself to surrender, I’d be drawn into the whirlwind of his universe. Still, this wasn’t why I was here and, rising from this daze, I questioned the sanity of staying. Yet when he reached out and took my hand in his and interlocked our fingers my doubt lifted.

Tobias led me toward a bubbling Jacuzzi and I freed myself from my towel and made my way in, sighing with contentment because this was the warmth I’d pined for all the way here. Tobias stepped down to join me and settled opposite. He leaned back against the blue tiled wall and closed his eyes to bask in the heat. Steam cloaked around us. I couldn’t stop looking at him, couldn’t drag my gaze away from his unnerving allure.

He opened his eyes and gave a heart-stopping smile. “I like seeing you happy.”

“This place...” I gave a wistful sigh.

“You’re the first woman I’ve brought here.”

My breath stuttered at his sincerity and I sunk lower until only my head was above the water. All this grandeur felt overwhelming.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Yes, much.”

“Good.”

“Don’t blame me for never getting out, though.”

He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll stay in here with you.”

My gaze found that my dripping Escada gown was hanging over the lounger. “I hope no one remembers.”

He gave a comforting smile. “Remembers what?”

Scrunching my nose, I replayed the embarrassing scene of the weather room with me in the starring role as water princess.

I turned my focus to his house with its sweeping large windows, that terra-cotta tiled roof and a large central balcony. Tobias had incredible taste and I’d thought his Oxfordshire house was remarkable. This was off-the-charts decadent.

Then there came the memory of those stolen paintings he’d stashed away in his English home.

I rose out of the water. “I should go.”

“Stay.” He gestured behind him. “I have a guesthouse if you prefer?”

A flash of movement—

I froze in dismay when I saw a floating contraption behind his shoulder. The drone hovered closer and there was a glint of moonlight reflecting off the two champagne glasses it balanced on its surface.

Tobias turned and he reached out to pick them up by the stems. “Thank you, Jade.” He handed a glass to me.

Jaw gaping, I accepted the drink. Jade was mobile now?

Surely this isn’t a good thing?

I set the delicate glass down and watched the drone making its way back toward the house.

Tobias set his down too, and moved toward me, reaching up to cup my face with his strong hands as he crushed his lips to mine, his tongue tangling, dominating, obliterating my reasons to leave, causing my body to shudder in the wake of his touch. He broke away and dipped slightly to suckle my left nipple, his teeth dragging along the sensitized beading.

A groan of pleasure escaped me as my sex clenched in response and I dug my fingernails into his biceps to hold him there. His arm slipped around my back to pull me firmly against him and this closeness sent me reeling. Wilder’s mouth captured my other breast, swirling his tongue around my areola and my head fell back as I swooned.

Soft lips kissed my shoulder. “Your skin feels like silk.” His hand disappeared beneath the water and he ran it over my belly and held it there. “Let me touch you.”

“Yes.”

He slid a fingertip along my sex and my thighs widened for him, and I gasped at the pleasure of his stroking. Reaching out for balance I gripped the edge of the tub. My wrist tapped my glass and it tipped over and broke in two on the tile.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“No problem.” He nuzzled into my ear and kissed my neck.

My eyes widened when I saw the drone was back and hovering near us again. It turned on its axis and its metal arms withdrew from its center. It swept up the broken glass.

No bloody way.

With all evidence of my mishap removed, the drone lifted higher and headed back. I marveled at yet another exclusive peek into his techno world.

Tobias slipped into a grin when he realized he’d left me speechless. “Want another glass?”

I shook my head.

He lifted me up and out of the water, laying me back on the edge with my legs dangling. He dragged me toward him and eased my thighs apart. “Like my drone?”

“Bit scary.”

“Not when you get to know her.”

I raised my head to look at him. “I like getting to know you better.”

“I like you being here.”

“This is paradise.” I let out a long sigh.

“This...is paradise.” He buried his face between my thighs and my body shivered when his tongue swept along my sex.

“You like that?” he said huskily.

“Yes, it’s amazing.”

“The last thing you need is me doing this to you for hours.”

“Can you be more specific?” I encouraged playfully.

Tobias ran his tongue along me again and feverishly suckled.

“Oh, I see what you mean now.” I trembled with pleasure as he flicked away, finding a perfect rhythm of circling.

He plunged his tongue inside, owning my sex as he used a fingertip to circle my clit until I was racing at supersonic speed toward climax, my hips pumping as I rode this endless wave of bliss.

Close...

He ceased suddenly.

And pulled away, leaving me panting wantonly for his mouth to find me again, my orgasm right there waiting for me to reach its pinnacle. Rising onto my elbows, I stared at him questioningly.

Tobias smiled. “Let me show you your room.”

Blinking at him, I tried to grasp his reason for revving me right to the edge of an orgasm and then leaving me suspended in a burning desire. Then I realized Tobias was going to take me to bed, which was a good thing with me so jittery with need. I watched him climb out of the Jacuzzi as I pushed myself up, and let him wrap that large white towel around me again.

He grabbed a towel for himself and dipped low for his drink and handed it to me. “Nightcap.”

Padding barefoot behind him, my breath stilted from this yearning between my thighs as I followed him toward a guesthouse.

He punched a series of digits into a keypad to the right of the entryway and opened the door for me. “You’ll find everything you need in here.”

“Where will you be?”

Tobias gestured to the house and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “See you in the morning.”

What was this?

As he headed along the pathway, he scooped up my wet dress and shoes on the way, leaving me standing there with my body about burst into flames with the passion he’d ignited. Even with this supposed rejection I was still tingling all over, and it didn’t help to see his sculptured back and his sexy swagger that was hypnotic to watch.

I went in and closed the door behind me and ran through if I’d done something wrong. The guesthouse looked spacious and homey with its open-plan sitting room, a large sofa and a wide screen TV, all of it was inviting. Of all the scenarios I’d imagined, this wasn’t one of them. My thoughts spiraled with all the ways he’d made love to me before and the pleasure he’d denied me tonight.

What the hell?

No, you don’t bring a woman to your beautiful home after tricking her to come with you, strip her naked and pop her in your Jacuzzi and then push her to the edge of pleasure until she’s a writhing mess of bliss—and then amble off.

I have more self-respect.

I set the glass on the entryway table and headed out of there ready to challenge Tobias about his teasing. After circling the property and finding all the doors locked and the windows secured I stomped back to the guesthouse.

Cheeky bastard.

He’d locked me out.

The touch of his kiss still lingering between my thighs made it challenging to come down from this erotic roller coaster. I went back in for the champagne flute and made my way outside the front door.

Oops.

The glass slipped from my fingers—shattering shards on the tile.

I waited...

Tobias had told me he’d not brought anyone else here. My heart skipped a beat wanting to believe this. Maybe, just maybe the proof was in there. A jolt of adrenaline hit me when I saw a flash of movement—the drone coming toward me.

I wasn’t letting him off the hook after bringing me all the way out here. I ran through what motives he had for his actions.

Wait.

Unless he was planning on hitting a place tonight, and I’d chipped away at his precious evening with our fun time in the tub.

The drone lowered and swept up the glass.

Careful of any missed pieces I sidestepped the pathway and followed Jade toward the main house; exhilaration rising that this might work. The machine moved toward a low window and the glass frame slid upward. This was clearly a breach in Tobias’s security, because I was scrambling after it, over the windowsill and squirming my body around to lower myself in.

My towel fell to the ground and I scrambled to pick it up and wrap it back around myself, tucking in the top to resecure it. I was stuck here with no clothes, which meant going after Tobias was going to be a challenge if he left. Still, I reasoned, he’d probably have something here I could borrow.

Yes, buddy, you’re not slowing me down.

I breathed in the floral scent of fresh-cut flowers and padded barefoot along the stone floor down a long hallway. I listened out for Tobias as the drone floated ahead of me. Getting one over on Wilder felt so damn good. I turned the corner and saw the wall of water cascading into a blue pool, a soothing showpiece highlighting the open-spaced contemporary style.

Farther down, an enormous print with the signature style of Mark Rothko adorned a white wall with its glorious gold, pink, orange and a dash of pale blue splendor. I closed in on the vast canvas, admiring the vibrant brushstrokes that were fast and light—

No way.

Tobias had an authentic Mark Rothko hanging in his home. My breath stuttered at the realization this was a multimillion-dollar masterpiece from the renowned Russian Jewish painter who’d been hailed as America’s most talented abstract impressionist.

My stare roamed over his striking mixture of color with its vibrant tones reminiscent of his earlier days, not his later work that reflected Rothko’s painstaking soul-searching. The kind so many artists endure when their star rises and stirs the complexity of art in its purist form versus the financial freedom it promised. A brilliant man whose tragic suicide sent shock waves throughout the community. More than this, Rothko left behind his somber paintings from when he’d been at his lowest and on the day he died, they’d arrived at the Tate Gallery in London as though he’d waited for them to find a safe home first.

To honor Mark’s wishes, I stood eighteen inches away from the canvas just as he’d instructed us, close enough to experience his brilliance and not impose meaning but welcome its effect on an emotional level. An inner light emanated from the colors that were miraculously merging; my heart and mind drinking in the beauty.

Soul merging and slipping through its center...

This, this was proof art was more than a canvas and paint, but a living, breathing entity, enticing us to see more.

Be more.

I lost track of time.

My gaze rose to the ceiling to look for surveillance cameras. The drone was at eye level and seemed to be watching me. Hurrying up a large staircase, I admired Tobias’s decor. There were touches of the Far East, like the exquisitely carved wooden sculpture of the Hindu god Shiva and the Asian chest flush against the wall that gave the place an earthy feel.

Moving from room to room I listened out for him.

I paused inside a room that looked lived in from the half-made bed in the center with a carved headboard. I went in farther and brushed my hand along the soft duvet, imagining him spending time in here. Inside the walk-in wardrobe was an assortment of sharp-looking suits, pristine shirts and more casual wear, and all of them hung neatly. Sitting on an island was a row of polished business shoes and on the shelf below were his expensive-looking sports shoes. I explored his necktie collection which appeared handcrafted and, pulling another drawer open, I saw a selection of expensive watches.

After dropping my towel to the floor, I reached up for one of his white shirts and tugged it off its hanger. I pulled it on and buttoned it up. I found a pair of his boxer shorts, they were baggy on me but they’d do.

Across the other side of the room was a glass window leading to an expansive balcony and from here I could see how far his property went. There was a tennis court to the left, and to the right was a helicopter parked on a flight pad, and straight ahead was a sandy pathway down to the beach. This place seemed so dreamy.

Inside his bathroom, I found a comb and pulled it through my damp hair, glancing around for any evidence a woman might have left her stuff here. I was relieved not to see any. All the products were for men and all organized perfectly. His shower and bathtub were both enormous. Tobias seemed to love neatness.

On my way out of his bedroom I noticed a portrait-sized package leaning against the wall and it was wrapped in brown paper and tied in twine. I knelt beside it and held a corner ready to rip it a little to take a peek.

There came a sound from the hallway. I went to explore the noise—

Turning the corner, I jolted to a stop when I saw a white kitten wobbling unsteadily on the carpet. It was crying for its mother.

“Hello, little thing.” I approached slowly. “What are you doing?”

Bright blue eyes blinked at me and I giggled at its cuteness and went to pick it up.

The kitten morphed larger—

A scream tore from me.

An enormous lion was where the kitten had been and its vivid black eyes were large and wild. His teeth were bared in anger as he shook his thick mane, back muscles flexing and he ran my way.

He lunged at me.

Falling backward onto my bum, my arms up and bracing for the attack, I squeezed my eyes shut to ready for the agony.

Quiet.

Daring to peek, I exhaled a long desperate breath when I saw it was gone.

I am going to bloody well kill him.

“Tobias!” I screeched and scrambled to my feet in a haze of panic-drenched breaths, using the wall to steady myself as I made my way along, realizing he’d used a hologram on me.

The drone hovered at the end of the hallway.

“Jade, take me to Tobias.” My voice wavered with fury.

Jade led me down the stairs and through the house and I wondered if Tobias had returned my access to her. She was certainly responding as though he had or maybe this was a safety mechanism in Jade’s software to protect him.

My heart was still pounding. I’d been naive to believe this was going to be easy. Halfway down a long corridor I heard a clanging chain and what sounded like thumping.

I pointed a finger at Jade. “If this is a trick I’ll rip your arms off.”

It hovered, waiting.

Nudging the door open I peered in and my breath caught at the primal beauty of a bare-chested Tobias wearing shorts and boxing gloves. His legs were slightly parted and his gaze was fixed on a large red punching bag that he was pounding with left and right hooks; his chiseled torso rippling as he circled it, perspiration glistening off his body. My jaw tensed at the erotic splendor of the way he controlled each punch.

He stopped suddenly and caught the bag to still it. His green eyes narrowed on me.

I stepped in farther. “Love the house.”

“Looks like someone had a run-in with an African lion?” He smiled broadly. “Is that my shirt?”

“Might be.”

“We have a thief in our midst.”

My glare shifted to the bag and I wondered if he’d chosen this sport to burn off his sexual tension. Right now, I was close to attacking the thing myself. Why did he have to look so damn gorgeous from every angle? So ripped and primed for pleasure.

“Why did you bring me here?” I snapped.

Confusion marred his face. “To spend time with you.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t.”

“What you did to me in the Jacuzzi...” I shook my head to say the rest.

He turned and looked across the room as confliction swept over his face.

“Tobias, back at The Broad you begged me to tell you I want you.”

“You didn’t say it.”

“So is this my punishment?”

“Why must you be so captivating?”

“Why must you be so infuriating?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Tobias gave another heart-stopping smile as though flaunting his power. He was all well-defined alpha and seductive pose but something told me he wasn’t even trying; this was his natural state, fixed in an unwitting stance of seduction.

“Follow me.” I gestured to his gloves. “Keep those on.”

His arms fell to his sides and his brows rose with curiosity.

I led him over to the seating area where there were two red lounge chairs.

“Sit,” I ordered.

He tilted his head in intrigue.

“Now, please.” I pointed.

Amused, Tobias sat in an armchair and rested his gloved hands on the armrests.

I neared him and leaned in to ease my fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Up.”

He raised his bum off the chair with a smirk. I had his shorts sliding down his hips and his cock bouncing free when I tugged the material over his thighs to pull them off. I threw them onto the other chair. I eased my shorts off and unbuttoned the shirt too and threw them to join his.

“This is getting interesting,” he said as he went to remove a glove.

“No,” I said. “You won’t need your hands for this.”

“Really?”

“No.”

His frown deepened and he slid into a wry smile.

Maneuvering myself, I climbed onto his lap and positioned my thighs on either side of his. Reaching low for his erection, I eased the tip toward my entrance and then slid onto him and savored this blissful glide downward, my sex adjusting to his girth as he filled me entirely, clenching him with ripples of pleasure. My breath stuttered as the delicious tautness made me tremble. Tobias stuttered a breath of arousal. He felt enormous inside as he grew, his erection twitching and sending incredible sensations into my sex.

He narrowed his gaze. “I need my hands.”

“No, no, there won’t be any more talking on your part.” I rocked my hips. “The rest of you is of no interest to me.”

“Jesus, Zara.” His jaw clenched with tension. “This is too hot. I’m gonna come.”

I tripped up his chin. “You’re forbidden. Understand?”

Reaching down, I pressed a fingertip to my clit and luxuriated in my touch. “Oh, that’s good.” I moaned, rising and falling, setting a delicious pace.

His body felt rock hard beneath me and glimmered with perspiration and he smelled divine, the remnants of expensive body wash mixed with his natural scent that did crazy things to me. I nuzzled into the crook of his neck and kissed him, running my tongue along his hot flesh, sending sparks of arousal surging through my body.

Rising, I let out a long erotic groan as my head fell back and my damp locks cascaded behind me, tweaking my nipples to increase this desire and stealing a glance at Tobias, I felt the rush of victory at his arousal.

“I can never get over how beautiful you are,” he said.

My fingertip snapped to his lips. “Let’s pretend you’re not here.”

“Oh, it’s like that?”

My mouth lingered close to his. “It’s exactly like that.” I pulled back when he went to kiss me and it was challenging not to smile.

Reaching up to grab a fistful of his hair I used it for leverage to feverishly ride him, bouncing, as my fingers traced my clit, sending me tumbling over into a blinding orgasm. My hair whipped from side to side, breasts bobbing, as I became wild upon him, drawing out the remnants of my climax, my breaths drawn out.

His gloved hands moved to my waist and I nudged them back to the armrests.

“Oh, yes,” I moaned, languishing on him.

A trickle of perspiration ran down my spine.

His frown was etched in frustration, his green gaze ablaze and speckled with gold, eyes wide with passion, jaw tensing as he forced back his desire. “Zara, if you want me to admit I’m obsessed with you—”

“Hush now.” Reveling in our connection, I circled my hips wider to savor these lingering sensations.

His breathing was ragged, needful and all arrogance gone.

When I rose off him to let him slide out, my sex felt bereft with him no longer inside. I stepped back to admire the creature that had satisfied my darkest yearnings.

“Well done,” I said.

“Get back here.” He tugged his left glove.

Laughing, I scooped up the shirt and shorts and dressed in them on the way out. When I got to the door I turned and said, “Thank you, Mr. Wilder.”

Down the hallway, I threw a wave goodbye to the drone and continued through the house until I reached the front door. Outside on his front porch I paused for a second realizing I needed to call a cab.

Damn.

I had to go back in and I was also thirsty too. The view was vast and in the distance, dusky rolling hills reminded me we were in the middle of nowhere.

I sensed Tobias.

He stepped forward to stand by my side, those shorts back on and his boxing gloves off, his stare following the horizon as he said, “Someone didn’t think this through.”

“I’m not staying in the guesthouse.”

“Well, there is an alternative.” He gave a nod. “But if it’s my bed. It’s my rules.”

“What would those be?” Every part of me fought with this need to reach out and touch that ripped torso again.

He narrowed his stare on me. “I get to fuck you all night long. Hard.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, right.” He lifted me high in the air and flung me across his right shoulder so I was upside down and my hands rested on his muscular back.

He slapped my bum in triumph.

I shrieked at the shock and laughed at the joy of being in his arms again. My spontaneity was getting me close to breaking down Wilder’s wall.

6

Lying on Tobias’s bed I realized I’d been right about this being his room.

He’d carried me over his shoulder all the way in here and this was the side of him I adored, his playfulness took a little coaxing but was so worth it.

Tobias dragged me down the bed toward him. “These are mine.” He snapped the waistband of the shorts I’d borrowed and then eased them down my thighs. “I’m taking these back.”

“What am I going to wear?” I worked on unbuttoning my shirt.

“Not my problem.”

“I like it in here.” I glanced over to the wrapped frame I’d almost peeked at earlier. Tobias’s stare followed mine.

There was something about the way he looked at it, something in the way the twine had been carefully wrapped around it.

Getting his attention back on me before he saw that it had piqued my interest, I said, “Do you have a cowboy hat?” I cringed at how stupid that sounded.

“No.” He grinned. “Are you into that? Role play?”

I giggled with embarrassment and covered my eyes.

“Come here.” He grabbed my ankles and yanked me toward him.

“Should we wash off this chlorine?” I sniffed my arm but couldn’t smell it on me.

“It’s a freshwater spa.”

“Maybe we should shut the door so Jade doesn’t sneak in?”

“You have a lot of demands.” Tobias went over to the door and kicked it shut and continued to undress. “You could learn a lot from her.”

“Funny. Why didn’t you make Jade a he?”

“Easier to control.” He smirked at me. “Though when I developed her she had this annoying trait of interrupting me. So I tweaked her circuitry. Took her sassy-arse attitude down a notch.”

“Do you realize how cheeky you are?”

“No one’s mentioned it.”

“Yeah, right.”

Tobias leaned toward my sex. “Time to make it up to you.”

The jolt of pleasure from his tongue running along my clit made me arch my back. “Oh, yes.” I moaned.

He lavished affection with his mouth, sending shudders of electric pulses inside me. Writhing, thighs trembling, my fingers were nudged away from my breasts and he cupped his own hands there. He tweaked my nipples as he thrust his tongue inside me, his fingers lightly pinching with rhythmic tweaks sending me spiraling into oblivion.

He turned me over and raised my arse in the air and thrust into me. “You feel amazing, Zara.”

All I could focus on was the bliss he was sending into me as his balls struck my sex with each thrust.

He slowed and ran his hands down my spine. “Everything I do is to protect you. I need you to believe me.”

“Locking me outside?”

He pulled out and flipped me onto my back so he could see my face. I scootched closer to him to let him know I didn’t want to stop.

Tobias plunged back in and stilled as though making a powerful statement of ownership. “You broke into my home,” he said darkly.

My channel tightened around him. “I’m a guest.”

He resumed pumping leisurely and his voice softened with arousal. “You strategized your entry point and executed the perfect break-in.” He reached low and flicked my clit.

My body shuddered at the erotic shock of his touch. “That’s why you teased me in your pool?”

“Jacuzzi.”

“So you admit it?”

“If you want something bad enough.”

I pushed myself up and slapped his chest playfully.

He gave a smile. “Mission accomplished, Leighton, you got your man. I’m inside you again. Feel this? This is what you wanted. See how ingenious you are. Looks like you have something in common with Icon.”

“Not fair.”

“Is this fair?” He buried deeper.

My white-knuckled grip tightened on the bedsheet; I was close.

“Need convincing?” He lifted me with ease and I wrapped my legs around him and he carried me across the room. Tobias shoved me against the wall and proceeded banging me hard against it. “How about this?”

This was mind-blowing and the feel of his controlled pounding sent me into a trance; all I could do was rest my head on his shoulder and let him have me like this.

He carried me over to the armchair and threw me face-first over it so my bum was raised upon the arch of the high back and my hands were gripping the seat. This position left me completely powerless and totally exposed. When his mouth met my sex again, he made me scream through another orgasm.

“I can see you still need convincing.” Tobias lifted me up and carried me back to the bed and flung me onto it. “How about this?” He climbed on to join me and rose above my body and yanked my arms over my head and gripped them there, pinning them down. Sinking his cock inside me again, setting off into a startling rhythm and pummeling me into the mattress.

I knew this was Tobias’s way of asserting his authority after I’d played with him in his gym.

“I need you to come again.” His voice sounded punishing.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will.” He moved his hips in a circle.

His masterful words sent me reeling and I tipped up my pelvis, my hair falling over my face as I shuddered through another climax. Tobias stilled and became rigid and his heat burst into me, his face buried in the crook of my neck as he rode out his pleasure with continuous leisurely glides.

He held himself up with strong arms either side of my head and looked down at me. “How was that for an apology?”

“Right on point,” I managed.

He slipped to my side and pulled me onto him.

With my head nuzzled into the cradle of his neck and my leg draped over his, sated and weak in his arms I fell asleep.

The sound of birdsong stirred me awake and I raised my head off the pillow, realizing I’d been here all night.

“Hi.” Tobias reached over and lifted a strand of auburn out of my eyes.

I hoped he’d not snuck out during the night to bloody well steal something. So much for being on guard. Still, he reflected innocence and his hair was its usual mess of perfection.

I stretched languidly. “It’s like being on holiday.”

And I’d just reminded him the real reason I was here.

He rested his head in his hands and stared up at the ceiling.

I reached out to touch him. “I didn’t mean...”

Tobias swept his hand across the room. “My casa is your casa.”

Scooting over to him, I planted a kiss on his bicep and he reciprocated my affection with his fingers trailing languidly through my hair, making my scalp tingle.

The uncomfortable silence lingered too long.

“What’s it like having homes all over the world?” I broke the quiet.

“Guarantees privacy.”

“You have a Rothko, Tobias. An authentic painting by the master himself?”

“Mark gave it to my dad.”

Which explained why it was here and not in a gallery. Though this went against Tobias’s philosophy of sharing art with the world.

“Did your dad know him?”

“Yes. He was a remarkable man.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“The blue reminds me of you.” His eyes crinkled into a smile.

“Do you ever get lonely?”

“I keep busy.”

I rested my head in my palm. “You avoided the question.”

“I love my work.”

“Which? Your business? Your gallery? Inventing? Or...”

“Zara, don’t go there.”

“What would happen if I did?”

“I told you before. Everything I have done is to protect you.”

“From you?”

His eyes held mine and he looked hurt.

“From who, then?”

“Push me at your peril, Leighton.”

“What are you hiding?”

“What are you hiding?” he mirrored back.

“Me? Nothing.”

“Can I ask you something,” he said softly.

I shrugged that I’d hear his question at least.

He turned to face me. “How did your dad choose the paintings? The night of the fire?”

“We grabbed what we could.”

A flash of fear; disorientation.

“You remember something?”

“It was a long time ago.” But I understood the question. It was like asking which child you would save first, because each painting held a precious place in my father’s heart.

“Zara?” Tobias whispered.

I loosened my grip from where I’d been digging my fingernails into his bicep. “Dad went back for his favorite.”

“You went with him?”

“I couldn’t leave him.”

He looked horrified. “That was so dangerous.”

“He’d removed Madame Rose Récamier from my bedroom and placed her in his office weeks before. The frame needed to be refurbished. Otherwise she’d have gone too.”

“The smoke could have gotten to you.” Tobias rested his head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling as though working through a difficult thought. “That’s where he kept the Michelangelo. That’s where he kept all the paintings you saved.”

“There were so many. We tried.” A familiar guilt that I couldn’t manage the Degas.

This drawn-out silence allowed those haunting memories to sweep in. “I should be able to ask you things too.”

“Go on, then.”

“How do they contact you?”

“Who?”

“Your clients? The ones who hire you to steal their paintings back?”

“Zara, please.” His tone insinuated I’d ruin what we’d shared.

I yearned to reach him and now felt so right. I scooted closer and rested my head on his chest and my scalp tingled as he ran his fingers through my hair.

“The thing is,” I began softly, “when a painting has been with a family for decades it’s hard to come to terms with the fact a family member obtained it illegally years before. The current family bonds with it.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“No, but more people suffer.”

“When you saw St. Joan at Christie’s you wanted to take her home. You wanted her back?”

“Yes.”

He gave a shrug to indicate he’d made his point.

“You stole her from Christie’s for me?” I raised my head to look at him. “Tobias?”

He turned his face away and gave the deepest sigh.

“Toby?”

He slid into a sweet smile, and then his expression shifted to resignation, his gaze sweeping the ceiling.

“There’s something you’re not telling me?” I whispered.

He turned his head to look at me “This moment could change what we can have. You want that?”

“I need answers.”

“Proceed with caution.”

A flutter of nerves went berserk in my chest. “I have to know.”

His stare bored into my eyes as though gauging I was ready. “Do you remember that first evening we met?”

My eyes brightened with the memory of him half-naked in The Otillie basement. “Of course.”

“Later, when we met again in the gallery?”

“You introduced yourself and then left.”

He’d suddenly walked out of the gallery as though my name alone had caused his quick exit.

“You’d heard of me?” My voice rasped with emotion.

“I realized you were Bertram Leighton’s daughter.”

The hairs on my forearms pricked. “Did you know my dad?”

He hesitated. “No.”

My heart thundered with all the possibilities of what was coming next.

He blew out a cautious sigh. “I came across information on a painting that appeared to have been stolen. It was St. Joan of Arc by Walter Ouless.”

“Where?”

He blew out a frustrated sigh of doubt. “I travel.”

I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Please.”

“I researched the painting’s provenance. I didn’t like what I saw.”

“You realized it was stolen?”

Was he admitting he knew the man’s name?

His gaze held mine. “I tracked St. Joan to your family.”

“I know you stole her back for me.” I held my breath, waiting for him to acknowledge this.

Tobias rose and pushed himself off the bed and padded across the room and went straight for that portrait-sized package wrapped in brown paper. The same one I’d caught sight of earlier.

He lifted it off the floor. “This is yours.”

I bolted upright, realizing he’d brought it home from The Wilder.

Weeks ago, he’d left me sleeping in my London flat to sneak off to steal St. Joan from Christie’s. The gallery’s footage had not only caught the theft but Tobias’s holographic security guard in the vicinity. A trick of the cameras. The actual guard had been recorded eating his lunch in the break room at the same time the heist went down.

Tobias rested the painting on the bed. “I’ll arrange to have her discreetly returned to London. Tell no one you have her.”

My heart pounded as a chasm seemingly opened again between us.

Lifting the painting off the bed, I delicately tore the brown paper to reveal St. Joan’s face beneath. It was her.

Tobias pulled on a T-shirt and grabbed a fresh pair of boxer shorts from a chest of drawers and dressed in silence.

He headed for the door. “Your safety is all I care about.”

“I’m not in any danger.”

“I’ll make coffee—”

“What changed?”

He paused by the door.

“Last night you were whirling me around a dance floor asking me to admit I want you? And last night...it was incredible.”

His expression softened. “It was even more than that.”

“What’s wrong, then?”

“The more you know the more dangerous it becomes for you.” The sweep of his hand inferred the rest. “I won’t do that to you.”

“What are you saying?”

“We’re everything we shouldn’t be.”

My mouth went dry as I realized why he was going cold on me. “You don’t want me to ask the name of the man who stole my St. Joan?”

Tobias gave a wary nod. “It’s a treacherous road.”

“So what happens now?”

He headed toward the door. “I’ll make breakfast.”

A chill washed over me. “Are you sending me back to London?”

Like he’d done outside The Wilder.

All the ground I’d made to get closer to him was lost.

“Look, Zara, knowing St. Joan is returned to you is all that matters. Knowing you’re safe.” He left and closed the door behind him.

Did he have any idea how much he hurt me when he pushed me away like this? I grabbed his shirt from the back of the armchair, glancing at the one beside it—the same chair he’d bent me over and taken me on so deliciously; the kind of passion my body would crave for an eternity. I went back into his wardrobe and searched out a pair of shorts and used one of his belts to keep them up.

Making my way down the stairs I reasoned Tobias had risked so much for me. My St. Joan back in my arms was proof of that. More questions needed answers and yet Tobias had closed down so fast I’d had no way of breaking his descent into aloofness.

I went in search of him, following the aroma of fresh brewing coffee. My stomach grumbled and yet my appetite wavered.

Tobias was standing with his back to me before a grill and he looked lost in thought. I needed a few seconds to steady myself at the stark beauty of him standing there working the spatula to flip the batter. The coffeemaker spluttered out fresh brewed grounds into a glass pot.

St. Joan’s frame weighed heavy in my hands.

The room looked gorgeous with its sleek modern stainless-steel appliances and it exuded a cozy style. There were badass robotic arms above the stove.

“Hi.” He gestured for me to sit at the center island. “Coffee?”

I looked around for Jade but didn’t see her. “What is that?”

He followed my gaze toward the two arms above the stove. “My chef. This morning I insisted on cooking.” Tobias slipped into a smile as he pointed to the mechanism. “He’s a little put out, but still.”

I refused to laugh. “Is this your goodbye? It’s not as harsh as outside The Wilder but it’s just as cruel.” I rested the painting on the island.

Tobias’s frown deepened. “She’s authentic. But you already know that.”

“Tell me his name.”

“It’s over.”

My silence resounded louder than words.

He gave a look of understanding. “This isn’t an easy decision.”

“You know who the man is who scathed my family’s reputation. The man who sent my dad to an early grave. The man who stole that—” I pointed to the half-wrapped painting.

“I’m here for you.”

My breath stuttered. “He needs to go to prison.”

“What was I thinking? You’d prefer tea, right?” He opened a cupboard and rifled through it. “I have it somewhere.”

“You really believe I’ll let this go?”

He gave up searching and turned to face me, crossing his arms across his chest defensively.

“I’m considered your client now? You gave me my painting back so I’m of no consequence to you?”

“Spending time with you has been...” He gave the kindest smile.

“Cut the bullshit, Tobias. This is important.”

“Zara, I believed this would help you see things from my perspective.”

“You think I’ll change my mind now about persuading you to give it up.”

“Give what up?”

“Being Icon.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “I’m flattered.”

“Are you blackmailing me with my own painting?” My breath stuttered on its inhale.

“Now that would be ingenious.” He gestured left. “Would you rather have a bagel? I have salmon.”

I turned and stormed through the house past the wall of water in the foyer, all the way to the front door where I saw my high heels. I scooped them up and saw several sets of car keys laying on the entryway table. I grabbed one of them and flew out the door, squinting against the morning sun.

“Zara!” His footfalls closed in on me.

The gravel bit into my soles and I quickly pulled my shoes on. I flicked the key ring and a silver Jaguar’s headlights flashed.

Tobias’s strong arms wrapped around me. “Zara.”

“Let me go.”

“We drive on the other side.”

“I know, I drove your Ferrari, remember?”

“That was a self-driving car. And I was with you.”

“You can’t use my own painting to manipulate me.”

His front pressed against my back and he held me with a determined strength, his arms holding me in a hug, gripping my arms to my side.

My rib cage ached from his hold. “Why tell me any of this?”

“I believed you’d handle it.”

I weakened in his arms and he let me down.

I spun round and glared at him.

“What are you expecting?” He took his keys from my hand. “Relationships are built on a foundation of trust. You’re here on behalf of Huntly Pierre—”

“No.” Though telling him they weren’t aware I was here sent a stab of doubt at my sanity.

“Look—” He stepped forward.

I stepped back so he couldn’t touch me.

“You investigate art thefts,” he said. “When you catch Icon, it will be case closed. Your career skyrockets.”

“Then why haven’t I done that?”

“Lack of evidence.” He glanced at his home. “You were hoping to find some, no doubt.”

A wave of nausea hit me that he really believed that’s why I’d stayed.

But I had thought that, hadn’t I.

Icon was before me and I was failing the art world. Failing me. All this soul-searching had gone awry because when I was with him everything felt right. Tobias gave the kindest expression of understanding, the kind threatening to render me useless if I didn’t brace against it.

He ran his thumb over the key fob. “Unless one of us is willing to relent, we have no future together.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.