Coops snapped his gaze to mine, realizing he was talking about my paintings. “Best keep that under wraps, then, boss?”
“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed.
“Okay, good. Well, I have everything set up. The Plaza’s usually booked years in advance so we got lucky. A wedding was canceled at the last minute. The deposit was huge so I feel for whoever paid for it.”
“I’ll need a dress for it,” I said.
Wilder stared at me and it was the kind of glare that told me I wasn’t invited.
“They miss you back in London,” said Coops. “They want to know when you’ll be back.”
“Next week if I’m lucky.”
Coops pointed across the park. “Your Lexus is over there.”
“Great.” Tobias gave a nod of approval. “Call me if you need anything, Coops.”
“See you later.” He hopped back onto his bike and sped off.
“We’re meeting up with him again?” I watched him cycle off across the park.
“Yes.”
“How much does he know?”
“Very little. That’s my way of protecting him. Once my phone is activated we’ll be tracked by Burell.”
“What happens when he finds us?”
“We set the trap.” He interlocked his fingers with mine and we walked to the chauffeur-driven Lexus. “If you’ll allow me to do the honors and lay the groundwork.”
He wanted me to give him the permission he needed to use that painting. I answered with silence. The cruelest answer of all, but the only one I could live with.
Once inside, Tobias asked the driver to take us to Westchester Avenue in the Bronx. He reached over me, pulled my seat belt across and clicked it in. “I’ve been dying to show you this place.”
“We’re going to see your new gallery first?”
“Yes.” He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I’m glad to be out of that house for a while.”
“I like it.”
“Yes, but it’s not our home.” He took my hand and squeezed it.
Staring at his face I tried to read the truth and see how he really felt about me tagging along. I needed proof he’d left his old life behind—though right before my eyes he was morphing into the legendary Icon.
His body language exuded a raw confidence, his focus intensifying, and his grip on my hand was almost unbearable as he held it in his lap and stared out at the passing scenery.
Resting my head back I took in the exquisite architecture, admiring the skyscrapers and opulent stone buildings designed by master craftsmen decades ago.
Our journey to the Bronx was slowed by traffic but within half an hour we’d pulled up to a curb and were immersed in the aliveness of an eclectic neighborhood. Tobias led me to the front of a beautiful building that stood out among the others. Its stonework revealed it had historical significance. He opened the door and gestured for me to go on ahead.
I looked around the empty space that had so much potential. The low ceiling with its soft lighting exuded a cozy and unpretentious atmosphere. I walked in farther, wanting to will this place into existence, and envisioned the walls adorned by art and the visitors awed by the emotions they evoked.
A twenty-something pretty black woman who was smartly dressed approached us and reached out to shake my hand, and then Tobias’s. “Mr. Wilder. Hi, Ms. Leighton, welcome.”
“Samantha.” Tobias smiled brightly. “How are you?”
“Good. Excited. We’re getting close to opening next month.” She gestured to the other room. “We’re almost there with the electricity.” Sam turned to me. “This is an old place. There is lots to do to get it up to code.”
Tobias added proudly, “There’s history here. We saved it from being torn down and an apartment building in its place.”
“The locals could be pushed out,” explained Sam.
“We intend on bringing art to the people.” Tobias looked so at home here.
“I have the catalogs ready.” Sam led the way.
Tobias wrapped his arm around my waist and it made me smile that he felt comfortable to show affection. “Sam’s an art graduate from Berkeley,” he said. “We are lucky to have her.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said playfully. “You know I fought for this job.”
Tobias gestured for us to go through to the arched partition first. “I knew immediately she’d be a great fit for us.”
Sam beamed with happiness. “We’re calling this ‘A Wilder Gallery.’”
“I love it.” I followed her.
This next room was just as empty except for the long table and lying upon it were catalogs.
“I have everything ready for you.” Sam walked over to one of them. “These are the ones I love the most. I just need you to sign off and we’ll purchase them.”
“Recognize these, Zara?” Tobias peeled open the front page of one of the binders. “This is the Terrance Hill collection. Remember his paintings from The Broad?”
“Oh, my goodness.” I peered down at the familiar artwork I’d seen showcased in the LA gallery during a special evening celebrating that young man’s work.
Sam pointed to the colorful collection of images. “We’ll showcase them as the main feature opening night. We’re in the process of setting up strategic seating areas and establishing a room for free lessons for those who want to learn to paint.”
I let out a sigh of wonder at Tobias’s respect for bringing art into this thriving neighborhood, and Sam exuded the kind of warmth that would make visitors feel welcome.
“Ms. Leighton’s going to help us choose our wish list,” said Tobias, looking at me with a hopeful smile.
“I’d love to.”
“I had a meeting with Brother Bay,” he told Sam.
“Oh, I love his work.” She lit up. “He’s like a modern-day Rembrandt. How did it go?”
“He’s donating ten of his paintings. They’ll be for sale and all proceeds will go to the monastery.”
“Great job, boss.” She beamed at him.
Over the next hour we took an album each, choosing the paintings that spoke to us. Afterward, we conferred about our choices and managed to whittle them down. The gallery was destined to exhibit both old masters—which his aunt’s collection would also become part of—to more modern pieces that would give rising artists their break.
Being surrounded by all this potential helped me to forget the threat looming. Tobias had a way of making me feel safe despite that storm whirling closer.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off,” Tobias invited Sam. “We can lock up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, you’ve got this place straightened out and worked hard. Take a personal day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wilder.”
We returned to the main exhibit room until Sam was ready to leave. She looked happy about taking time off. She secured the front door behind her on the way out.
“Let me show you the office.” Tobias led me up a winding stairwell and along a hallway, turning off the lights as we went.
The room he led us into reflected his easy style of simple and cozy, with a desk in the center and a computer set up. On the far end sat an in-tray, a penholder and stacks of empty folders. There was a yearly calendar fastened to the back wall to round out the business design.
Tobias locked the door behind us, and then leaned against it and held my gaze. I pretended not to be fazed by the intensity of his stare following my every move as I strolled around the room. I examined a glass paperweight, trying to steady myself against Wilder’s all-consuming presence and that alpha power he exuded.
He reached into his pocket and held up his phone. “Ready?”
I pushed myself up on the edge of the desk. “We’ll first be seen here at your new gallery?”
“Exactl
y.” His green eyes narrowed on me as though judging how I felt about this. “There’s nothing in here so they can’t do too much damage. It will look real, though. And not staged.”
Was he sure he wanted to bring down hell on us here in this beloved place? A gallery he was working on creating.
Still, I knew there was no other way but forward and I gave him a nod to let him know I was ready.
“Close the blinds.” His order made me jump.
I slid off the desk and walked toward him. “Is this some kind of diversion tactic? Because if it is—”
“Take off your panties. You can either take them off with the blinds open or closed. Your choice.”
“What if Burell’s men get here?”
“We have time.” His thumb pressed the button on his phone.
A jolt of arousal alighted my senses and I knew one more command from him would make me wet and craving him. This was just it. Wilder loved danger and as my gaze fixed on him I knew he’d just turned the app on.
A rush of fear surged through me too and the adrenaline made my nipples bead. “Fine.” I removed my Chanel jacket and threw it onto the back of the swivel chair as I walked toward the window. “If I close these we won’t be able to see them arrive.”
“I won’t ask you again.”
My fingers twisted the pole and the blinds threw the room into darkness.
Keeping my back to him I hitched up my skirt and slid my thong off my hips and down, turning slightly to experience that dark edge of pleasure of having him watching me.
With peril looming, my heartbeat quickened and I fought against the trepidation. Gone was that young girl from London who yearned for safety, and in her place had risen a siren wanting more of this crackling electricity between me and him, the only one who mattered.
I strolled over to the desk and bent over it with my hands gripping the edge as I offered my butt to him with an arching back and my thighs spread a little; my sex clenching in need for this touch.
First the sound of his footfalls behind me and the feel of my skirt being hitched up to expose me, and then his strong hand squeezed my buttocks—
Slap.
I shot forward at the shock of his palm meeting my flesh and again coming down firmly sending a shock of bliss. “Oh, God.” I inhaled sharply at the stunning realization he was taking my mind off this uncertainty.
He grabbed my hips and dragged me back into position and ran his hand along my cleft. “Nice and wet, Zara, very good. Did you like that?”
“Yes,” I said breathlessly, desperate for him to touch me again.
This was him trying to scare me off, I was sure of it, but instead I felt more defiant than ever.
He spanked me and the jolt of pleasure intensified when his other hand found my sex and he began fingering me and working me into a frenzy. The sting lifted from my heated skin and pleasure flooded into my cheeks. Thighs trembling, hips grinding, muscles clenching, I rode his hand deliciously while letting out a moan of want, desperate for another erotic slap that riled me up and nudged out my good-girl side.
“Fuck me,” I demanded.
“All in good time,” he said darkly as he slid his fingers out and found my clit and strummed.
Squeezing my eyes shut I concentrated on not coming.
I leaned forward over the desk with my bum in the air and my head low and my arms outstretched, my hair spilling before me. My heart soared with this sense he was proving he could protect me. A quick glance back and I saw him kneeling close. This was his show of power, his careful manipulation to let me feel safe as he repositioned my thighs—a jolt of pleasure as his mouth met my sex and he devoured me, suckling my clit and sending me into an erotic trance where all thoughts dissipated and all I knew was this serenity, forgetting time and place, forgetting everything...
He rose to his feet and spun me around and sat me on the edge of the desk and I watched him free himself. The vision of his cock rising out of dark blond curls was mesmerizing and he tapped my sex with it and then buried himself deep inside me, beginning a leisurely pace of fucking me into submission; his steely gaze locked on mine.
I leaned back until I was lying on the desk and reached low to touch myself but he grabbed my wrists and held them together with his left hand, and with his right he gave me what I yearned for and played with my clit, thrumming furiously in time with his thrusts. My spine arched, my orgasm capturing me and stealing me away for what felt like forever, body rigid and my sex massaging him with forceful spasms, rocking against him through waves of ecstasy as my moans echoed around us.
I was consumed by him entirely.
When his heat shot into me I flung my thighs around him, pulled him down onto me and buried my face into the crook of his neck. I gripped him and fell into a place where it was easy to forget.
“Zara.” His voice stirred me back to consciousness and I opened my eyes to see him wiping me down there with a tissue in an intimate act of tenderness.
He walked away, strolled toward the window and peered out.
I pushed myself onto my elbows. “Are they here?”
“How do you feel?”
“Relaxed.” Invigorated actually, my body tingling from my postclimax buzz. “How about you?”
“I’m displeased that someone’s disrupting my time with you.” Tobias reached for my panties and slid them partway. “Up.”
I raised my hips as he finished sliding my underwear back on. He smiled as he leaned in, tugging aside my panties to suckle my clit. “I will be thirsty for you for the rest of my life, Leighton.” He kissed me there, sending ripples of arousal.
I froze midlift and let him lavish his tongue along me again. I felt the loss of him too severely when he stepped back, and my sex throbbed exquisitely as though we still had time for his teasing.
“Are they here?” I managed breathlessly.
He repositioned my panties and pulled my skirt down. “Yes.”
A jolt of fear caught in my throat.
Someone was banging on the front door downstairs.
I stared at Tobias, in awe of his eerie calmness. “What happens now?”
He helped me off the desk. I straightened my clothes and shrugged into my Chanel jacket. He grabbed his jacket and led me out and along a hallway all the way to a dead end.
Tobias’s thumb slid along the screen of his phone and he went into settings. “I turn the GPS off.”
I could hear the door giving way downstairs and footsteps heading fast our way.
“Time to lose them.” Wilder was playing a deadly game.
“Why did you lure them here?”
“If they fail to catch us this will frustrate Eli Burell and he’ll personally try to find us himself. Without him at our meeting our ruse is useless.”
“How do you know Eli isn’t here?”
“Coops is tracking him.”
“Of course he is.” I kept the dread out of my tone.
“If this was chess our move would be considered a Zugzwang, which is German for influencing the other player with a compulsion to move. It makes him weaker.”
“We’re drawing him out?”
“Exactly.” He removed a key from his pocket and tried it in a door at the end of the hall and I breathed a sigh of relief when it turned. We hurried into another hallway and he secured the door behind us and tucked away the key. We weaved around shoppers browsing racks of clothing and they gave us a passing glance as we hurried by.
We descended a staircase onto the main floor of the store and burst out through the front door onto the street. A little way down to our right, two large SUVs were parked and a man in a black suit lingered near them.
Tobias grabbed my hand and we ran in the opposite direction until we came to a familiar-looking motorbike parked curbside. It was the Harley Tobias had used to pick me up just days ago
in Central Park after his drone had crashed in a tree with me in it.
Yeah, that should have been your first warning Wilder loved dabbling in crazy, I chastised myself.
“I’m wearing a skirt,” I snapped.
“I’m sure New York has seen it all before, Leighton. Get on.” He shoved a helmet onto my head and then pulled me into a kiss as though we weren’t being chased. He shoved his own helmet on, and we climbed onto the bike with him in front revving the engine and me hugging his chest. We sped away, merging into traffic, and he opened the throttle and zoomed off.
I didn’t glance back.
When we finally parked at a curb I climbed off and stretched to ease the tension in my limbs, relieved we’d made our escape. Tobias signaled to someone and I turned to see Coops climbing the steps toward us.
Tobias placed my helmet in the back of the bike and handed his to Coops, and then he threw him the keys. I stared back to make sure we weren’t being followed.
“Zara.” Tobias got my attention and with my hand in his we hurried up the rest of the way toward the impressive building with the grand sign hailing this as The New York City Ballet.
With a flash of Wilder’s ID, we were granted access and continued into the foyer. After walking for a few minutes, we passed under a curtained doorway. This was an empty auditorium except for the stage where two ballerinas looked like they were rehearsing.
I shot Tobias a confused look.
“Come on.” He guided me down the side aisle. “Just because we have the hounds of hell on our heels doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy a little culture.”
We settled a few rows back from the stage and I rested my head on his shoulder, lulled by the piano music which was an exquisite accompaniment to the dancers’ elegant movements. I was mesmerized at the dreamlike fluidity contrasted to our recent turmoil.
“You’re full of surprises,” I whispered.
He turned in his chair to face me. “You have no idea.”
“Oh, I think I do.”
He shook his head. “We both know how dangerous the Burells are.”
There came a sinking feeling. “What do you mean?”
The Prize Page 15
