Masters of Seduction Volume 2: Books 5-8: Paranormal Romance Box Set

by Lara Adrian et el

  It was Elijah who righted her. He released her arm and motioned to her feet with his eyes. “I think it’s time to take those off.”

  “That’s like asking you to take off your suit jacket.”

  “Ah, but then my jacket isn’t causing me pain. And I can assure you, Ms. Parker, that if I were in pain, the jacket would come off.”

  Naomi glanced around, noting that most of the patrons had left the gallery. There were only a handful that remained. She spied Javan standing in the back next to a set of overstuffed chairs.

  “Please, Ms. Parker,” Elijah urged. “Otherwise, I might have to carry you to your car.”

  She laughed and held up her hands. “All right. I hate to admit this, but it’s all I’ve been able to do to stand here for the last hour.”

  Naomi kicked off one shoe and put her bare foot on the wooden floor. Her toes were so swollen she couldn’t stand to put any weight on them. The second shoe came off in a hurry, and she sighed as most of the pain quieted.

  “You’ve done very well,” he said and pointed to the paper in her hands.

  “All but two were purchased.”

  “Actually, Mr. Drohas purchased those before the gallery opened. If you come by the offices tomorrow, you’ll find one in the lobby.”

  Now that was a surprise. “And the other?”

  Elijah smiled and turned to look at the picture of Becky. “In his office.”

  Did he know it was Becky in the photo? Was she some kind of trophy to display? Anger spiked through her, making her clutch the stem of the champagne glass tightly.

  There was no way she was allowing Becky to hang in Javan’s office. No matter what she had to do, Becky wouldn’t have to suffer that kind of insult.

  The stem snapped in her hand, spilling the rest of the champagne. Naomi jumped back in time to keep it off her dress. Elijah was at her side in an instant, taking the broken glass from her hand.

  “I have to talk to him,” Naomi said.

  Elijah lifted a black brow. “He’s waiting.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Javan smiled at the woman talking to him. She was one of the gallery’s biggest clients, and she made no secret that she wanted Javan in her bed.

  She was attractive, but his attention was on someone else that night.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elijah talking to Naomi. The ecstasy on her face when she removed her shoes immediately made him picture her in his bed as they made love.

  The snap of the champagne stem caused him to turn so that he could better see Naomi and Elijah. She didn’t even try to hide her anger as she turned and started toward him.

  What could she possibly be upset about? The money she made from her photos was more than she had made in the last two years combined. She should be pleased, but there was no denying something had riled her.

  “Excuse me, Pamela,” Javan said to the patron and turned to Naomi as she walked up.

  “You can’t have it.”

  Javan waited for Pamela to get far enough away before he said, “Have what, exactly?”

  “The photo.” She pointed to the largest of her work. “It’s not for sale.”

  Interesting. “You signed an agreement. Everything you brought to display was for sale.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “Why?”

  She swallowed, a flash of grief coming over her face. “It’s special. I thought I could sell it, but I can’t.”

  There was no deception in her words. She meant each of them. Javan had a suspicion that the model was none other than Rebecca. Though the face of the model in the photo was almost impossible to determine.

  “Then keep it.”

  She seemed surprised, by the way her eyes widened and her lips parted. “I didn’t expect...” she trailed off, then shrugged.

  “Ah. You thought I was devious and uncaring. On the contrary, Ms. Parker, I’m neither. If the photo means that much, then keep it.”

  She let out a sigh and lowered her gaze to the floor. “No. You’re right. I agreed to sell the piece. I can’t change my mind now.” Her eyes lifted to his. “I had no right to get angry.”

  “Tell you what. Come to my office tomorrow. If you don’t like where I hang it, then you can take it with you.”

  Her eyes studied him for long, silent moments. “Why are you being so nice?”

  “Just because I run such a large company doesn’t mean I can’t be civil.”

  “They say you’re ruthless when going after something you want.”

  Javan smiled. Oh, she had no idea. And he had just found something he wanted. “That’s a fair assessment.”

  “Then you must not want my photograph very much.”

  “Do you say that because I’m not mercilessly refusing to give it up?”

  Her blond brows lifted in affirmation. “Yes.”

  “Perhaps it’s not just your artwork I want.” Javan let his voice deepen just enough.

  He saw the bumps rise on her skin and her chest heave as she tried to draw in a breath. Could she not know she was a Nephilim? How was that even possible?

  Javan only needed to close the distance between them to overwhelm her senses. But he kept away. He wanted her to come to him on her own.

  Was that a blush that stained her cheeks? She glanced away, but her blue eyes returned to him almost immediately.

  “You intrigue me, Naomi,” he said and took a step closer. “Not many women do that.”

  He walked past her, allowing his hand to brush hers as he did. Javan didn’t want to leave the gallery, but if he was going to get his quarry where he wanted her, it was his only move.

  “Nice,” Elijah said as they walked out onto the sidewalk. “She’ll be there tomorrow.”

  “I hope so.” Javan fought the urge to look back and see if she watched him.

  ~

  Naomi stood in the lobby of the Drohas building wishing she hated it. From the pale gray walls to the plush rugs to the lettering of the Drohas name above the desk, she liked it all. Her gaze kept returning time and again to the outline of a wolf’s head thrown back as it howled. There was something about it that called to her. Then there was stunning artwork everywhere, from paintings, drawings, marble statues, and even large art made up of metal.

  She saw one of her pieces above the white leather couches in the seating area. It was both weird and amazing to see her piece in such a place alongside well-known artists.

  “Ms. Parker,” Elijah said as he walked up. “Nice to see you again.”

  She tried not to fidget. “He didn’t tell me a time.”

  “Not to worry. Right this way,” he said and held out his hand to a private elevator.

  Naomi saw the two receptionists eyeing her with envy. It made her glad she had chosen to go with a black pencil skirt and white blouse with the black jacket instead of jeans and a tee.

  The elevator doors closed after Elijah pressed his thumb to a scanner. Naomi leaned against the back of the elevator, hating the nervousness that arose within her.

  Javan was a killer. She shouldn’t be attracted to him. She certainly shouldn’t have been thinking about his kind offer. Or dreaming of him kissing her.

  They both knew that if she wanted the photograph back, all she had to do was tell him she didn’t like it in his office.

  And she was prepared to do just that.

  She had wanted to get close to him, and when she angrily went to him demanding he return her piece, she hadn’t been thinking of her revenge. All she had been thinking about was a picture that was easily one of her best, and also her favorite. How could she have even thought to sell it?

  Somehow, Naomi had known Javan would like it. Perhaps that’s why she included it.

  It wasn’t until after he agreed to give it back that she realized how she had just hurt herself. She needed to get close, not push him away. Thankfully, he had given her a way to fix things.

  “How are your feet?” Elijah asked.

  Naomi lo
oked down at the pair of black-heeled booties. “They hurt like hell.”

  “I’m a sucker for a woman in heels.” He shot her a wink. “Remember that there are men you can bring to their knees, looking the way you do. That should help with the pain.”

  “What kind of men? Men like your boss?”

  Elijah’s black gaze narrowed a fraction. “It’s no secret he keeps to himself, and as you told him last night, you know he can be ruthless. He’s not unfair, however. If he wants something, he’ll stop at nothing to have it.”

  “Including women?” Naomi hoped Elijah thought she referred to herself.

  “I’ve not seen him look at a woman as he did you in a very long time. Give him a chance. You might find that your first impression of him from the media doesn’t compare to who he really is.”

  The elevator doors opened then. Naomi expected grand opulence. What she found was an office with an amazing panorama of Sydney harbor. The office was huge with glass taking up an entire wall with the view.

  She stepped out of the elevator and looked around at the office. It was decorated in shades of gray that she found soothing and comforting.

  A large desk sat off to the left with bookshelves behind it holding pictures, statues, and books. On the opposite side was a black leather couch with a white and gray shag rug. Two black chairs and a coffee table made it feel more like a living room than an office area.

  She turned back to the desk and walked toward it, wanting to see the people in the pictures. It was easy to pick out Javan, and with the other men looking similar to him, they had to be his brothers. There were several with Elijah as well.

  Her head turned to the left and she froze. There was her picture. It hung over a long wooden table stained a rustic gray. She paid no attention to what was on the table. All she saw was her photo.

  The light pouring in from the glass behind her showered the photograph in natural light that showcased all of the fractures of light she used when taking the picture of her sister.

  “I think it looks rather perfect there.”

  She shivered at the dark, sexy voice behind her. Javan Drohas. Naomi was almost afraid to turn and confront him. Almost.

  Slowly, she turned. The sunlight was blinding as she faced the glass. He stood with his back to the sun, causing his face to be in shadow.

  Was he smiling? Were his lips, soft and alluring, tilted up at the corners? He stood with his hands at his sides, easy and confident.

  He walked toward her and the shadows fell away to reveal his navy suit and the cream dress shirt beneath. He didn’t wear a tie, but that seemed to only make him sexier. His chocolate gaze was focused on her intently—and curiously. As if he couldn’t figure her out. He was smiling, though it was a half-smile. It made her feel as if he knew a secret that she didn’t.

  Naomi wanted to see him as a villain after discovering he was linked to her sister, but ever since last night, she couldn’t seem to do it.

  “Naomi?”

  There was a pucker of a frown on his forehead. She mentally shook herself and offered him a smile. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

  “Oh, you are, and I thank you for that. There are only so many meetings a man can handle in one day.”

  His laughter went all the way through her, centering at her sex and making it throb. Good God! What was wrong with her?

  “I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about me keeping the picture, have you?” he asked hopefully.

  Naomi looked behind her. With her sister’s arms open wide, she seemed to be taunting Naomi that everything was right within reach.

  “I see,” he said, disappointment filling his voice. “I’ll be happy to return the picture to you if you’ll tell me why you really wanted in the exhibit.”

  Her head whipped around, her heart kicking up a notch. She wouldn’t retreat. Not yet. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You know exactly what I mean.” Javan sighed and leaned back against his desk. His gaze was direct, unflinching. “A trade, yes?”

  Naomi was back to feeling like she was going to throw up. This wasn’t going at all as she had hoped. And she was with him alone. If he did kill her sister, she was in major trouble.

  If? If!

  He killed her sister. It had to be him. There was no one else to link to Becky. Javan had enough money and connections to make a little murder indictment go away easily.

  “You think you can convince me to leave the picture?” Naomi lifted her chin for good measure. She wanted him to think she was as confident as he was.

  She just hoped he couldn’t see how her knees were knocking together.

  Javan was no longer smiling. He looked...sad. “Take the photograph, Naomi. No one will stop you. But I will have your explanation before you do.”

  “You would force me?”

  “No. You want to say it anyway. I’m giving you the chance.”

  There’s no way he could possibly know. She had been so careful. “I wanted to use your connections to further my career.”

  “Every artist who submits work to us wants that.” He inhaled deeply and slowly released it. “Give me the courtesy of the truth. I think you owe me that much.”

  “Fine. You want the truth?” she asked as she glared at him. “I’m here because you killed my sister. I’m going to prove you murdered her, and I won’t rest until you’re behind bars.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Javan had sensed the fire within Naomi. She held nothing back as she stated her words in a clear voice, advancing on him as she did. She was a warrior and didn’t even know it.

  How he wanted to yank her against his chest and take her lips savagely.

  An image of him doing exactly that flashed in his mind. His body burned to feel her against him, to know the softness of her skin. To touch every inch of her.

  He’d fed from a human with sex two nights ago. It should last him several more days, but his body felt as if he hadn’t fed in weeks.

  “Do you have nothing to say for yourself?” Naomi demanded.

  “I was questioned by the police, and then promptly cleared. I only knew Rebecca from interviewing her for inclusion in the exhibit.”

  “You met with her six times.”

  Javan saw the anger, the hurt, and the grief in Naomi’s blue eyes. She was shaking from her fury, and he wondered how she had held it all in before.

  “I did. As I’m sure you know, she was accepted into the exhibit. She was the first artist we admitted. I liked her work so much that I was meeting with her to create a sculpture for my family for the anniversary of my father’s death.”

  Her head cocked to the side, a lock of golden blond hair falling over her shoulder. “What?”

  “That was the extent of my involvement with Rebecca. She was a lovely person. Kind, compassionate. It showed in her art.”

  “I know,” Naomi said in a soft voice, all the steam gone from her words.

  Javan watched her carefully. “I wasn’t in the country when Rebecca died. I was at a meeting in London to acquire a piece of artwork from a private seller.”

  “It has to be you. There’s no one else.” Naomi’s eyes slid shut and she shook her head as if she couldn’t grasp what was happening.

  Javan pushed away from the desk and went to her. Before he thought better of it, he gently turned her to guide her to the couch. Once she sat, he poured her a finger of bourbon and put the glass in her hand. “Drink,” he ordered.

  As she took a tentative sip, Javan walked to his desk and opened the top left drawer. He took out the file he had given the police with all the documentation to prove where he had been.

  Javan set it on the coffee table and opened it. Then he took the seat across from Naomi as she thumbed through the papers.

  After a moment she dropped her head. “You were all I had.”

  “Let me help you find the killer.”

  Javan didn’t know why he offered. There were all kinds of turmoil happening in his world, but he h
ad no choice but to help Naomi. He wouldn’t be able to focus until she had her answers.

  Blue eyes the color of the ocean out his window met his. “Why?”

  “Because there’s something about you. I saw it in your work, which pulled me in. But you...you, Naomi. I’m drawn to you without thought or reason.”

  She didn’t say a word, merely looked at him as if she wasn’t sure what to make of his statement. Javan knew he could’ve been more suave about it all, but the words had come out of him in a rush.

  He rose and walked to the windows to look out. It was either that or reach across the table and pull her into his lap. Javan was fairly certain Naomi wouldn’t have appreciated that.

  “How did you find out about me?” she asked.

  “Elijah is very thorough.”

  The sound of her setting the glass on the table reached him. “I know what kind of killer we’re looking for.”

  “Do you?”

  He could see her reflection in the glass. She was debating on whether to say anything more.

  “An Incubus.”

  Javan wasn’t sure she could’ve said anything else that would’ve shocked him more. He turned to her. Did she know she was Nephilim, then? He’d have bet millions last night that she didn’t.

  “How do you know that?”

  She looked at him askance. “You accept what I said that easily?”

  “Tell me how you know that?”

  Naomi rubbed her hands together as she rested her arms on her knees. “Becky’s diary.”

  Shit. Javan looked back out the window. If it was an Incubus, that meant the odds of it being someone in his family were strong. There were other Incubi running around the city, but for Rebecca to stumble across one?

  “What?” Naomi asked as she stood and strode to him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She was so close he could feel the warmth of her body. Heat flooded him, his cock twitching with need. “I’m not sure you really want to know.”

  “I do,” she insisted.

  Javan felt her hand on his arm. It burned through his jacket and shirt to the skin beneath. He made the mistake of letting her turn him to face her.