The Sinful Art of Revenge

by Maya Blake

  ‘What if I asked you to come and work for me?’

  Surprise shot through her. ‘Why would you do that?’

  ‘I’m always on the lookout for talent. You have it. You’d be paid handsomely.’

  She didn’t even think twice about it. Her life had taken a decidedly different turn after her accident. ‘No, thank you.’

  He shoved his hand through his hair again and Reiko fought a smile. The thought that she was riling him sent a sliver of satisfaction through her. It felt good to get under his skin the way he’d been getting under hers, both asleep and awake.

  ‘What’s so fascinating about the black market? Is it the danger?’ His voice dripped with condemnation.

  Reiko toyed with disclosing the true nature of her profession to him. Would he understand? He had everything. Immeasurable wealth, good looks, a title that dated back to medieval times. He only had to snap his fingers to have his every wish fulfilled.

  Would he understand the need that drove people to hang onto one seemingly meaningless possession? Or spend their last cent retrieving the piece of history that made them who they were?

  Taking a deep breath, she decided to give a little. ‘After the First World War, a group of businessmen travelled through South East Asia, purportedly with the aim of setting up businesses that would employ thousands of people. But really what they wanted was to set up the illegal acquisition of art and artefacts. Twenty well-to-do families were targeted. Within five years the families’ heirlooms had been completely depleted. They were left destitute. The jobs never materialised. Families were ripped apart.’

  Retelling the story brought a hard lump of misery to her chest.

  Picking up her glass, she took another sip. ‘Most of them never recovered.’

  When she chanced a glance at him, he compelled her to go on with a curt nod.

  ‘My great-grandfather was not only one of those left with nothing—he was one of the people who convinced the other families to deal with the businessmen.’

  ‘So how are you helping the families, exactly?’

  ‘By recovering what was stolen from them and returning it to them.’

  ‘A one-woman crusader—Robin Hood and a cat burglar rolled into one.’ There was a lot less derision in his tone this time.

  ‘Nothing so glamorous. I’m just very good at what I do.’

  ‘Pascale Duvall—he’s on your hit list.’ It wasn’t a question but a statement.

  She couldn’t see the harm in coming clean. ‘Not any more. We’ve reached an agreement.’

  Damion’s gaze hardened. ‘Aren’t you afraid of repercussions?’

  ‘Not as much as he’s afraid of exposure.’

  ‘You exploited his weak points?’

  ‘I had a three-minute conversation with the man. If that displeases you, sue me.’

  He fell silent, and the weight of his gaze on her set off an alarm that made her very aware that it was the middle of the night. Damion Fortier was in her room. There was a fit-for-hot-sex bed close by. And her attraction to him was off the scale.

  The force of that thought released her other senses to go on a feeding frenzy. Sensations rushed at her. His scent hit her nostrils. Her ears picked up his steady breathing even as her eyes devoured him.

  Only the sense of touch went unanswered. And even then her fingers tingled with the need to touch, to reacquaint herself with everything she’d trained herself to forget.

  On cue, his gaze fell to her lips, his mouth parting slightly so she caught a tiny glimpse of his teeth and tongue.

  She stopped breathing. Her pulse hammered through her ears, the rush of blood making her dizzy and thankful she was sitting.

  ‘Damion—’

  ‘Ask me anything you want.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We agreed at the gallery we’d exchange information. Now it’s your turn to ask me anything you want.’

  She wanted to tell him to get lost. And she wanted to ask him a million questions. Reiko wasn’t sure which she wanted more.

  Heart suddenly racing, she licked her lips and saw his eyes darken in response.

  ‘Did you love her?’ The unplanned question broke the silence and slammed around the room like a living thing before coming to rest between them—a ticking grenade, ready to explode in her face.

  ‘Did I love Isadora? That’s what you want to know?’ His voice held a thin sliver of ice that made her chest tighten. But he’d given her permission.

  Jerkily, she nodded.

  His lips firmed. ‘No. I didn’t love her.’ The answer was delivered with a chilling finality that made her blood ice in her veins.

  ‘Did she know that?’

  ‘I was honest with her, but she chose to believe our agreement was … malleable.’

  ‘So you were in it just for the sex?’ Just as he’d been with her. Her chest tightened harder.

  ‘I was seeking an escape. She provided it.’

  ‘And that was all that mattered to you? Your escape?’ Bitterness surged through her so forcefully she almost gasped with the strength of it. ‘And when it became too much for you, you did what you do best—you tossed her aside and carried on your merry way, regardless of the trauma you’d left behind?’

  Grey eyes darkened until they were almost black. One fist bunched on his thigh as he reined in control. For a second Reiko wondered whether she’d gone too far.

  Then he exhaled slowly, long fingers flexing. ‘I realise what it looks like from the outside. But appearances can be deceptive.’

  ‘Trust me, I’m very well aware of that. But you just admitted you didn’t love her, so it appears you were just in it for the sex. Must have been great sex, though, since you were with her for a whole year?’ Whereas she’d merited a mere six weeks. Irrational anger seeped inside her, made her want to reach across the wide seat and smack him hard. Instead she surged to her feet.

  He followed suit and stepped towards her. ‘We’re not done.’

  She moved out of his reach. ‘It’s the middle of the night. We’ve had our little tête-à-tête—which, frankly, I don’t see the point of.’

  Lazy assurance gleamed in his eyes. ‘It’s a little more than a tête-à-tête, Reiko. What we have is as strong as ever. Don’t deny you feel it, too.’

  Pain punched through her. ‘Even if I felt remotely like you do—which I don’t—there won’t be a repeat of what happened between us five years ago. Not in this lifetime.’

  His eyes narrowed, his stance gaining a determination that sent alarm skittering through her.

  ‘You seem so very convinced. But I’ve held you in my arms. Your body was telling a different story last night.’

  ‘You caught me at a weak moment.’

  ‘The trouble with weak moments, cherie, is that they have a habit of recurring. With enough encouragement they can recur with mind-boggling frequency.’

  As if to demonstrate, he reached out for her. But she’d been prepared for it and jumped out of his reach.

  Surprise lit his eyes. ‘Maybe you are a ninja after all.’ The amusement in his voice made her pulse race faster. ‘You don’t care for a demonstration?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Don’t trust yourself?’

  ‘I’m just trying to save you time and effort. You won’t want me, Damion.’

  Perhaps it was the finality in her voice. Perhaps it was the heavy trace of bitter weariness she didn’t manage to hold back.

  He froze, his eyes narrowing intently on her. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because even if I wanted to, Damion, I can’t sleep with you. I’m incapable of having sex.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  JAPAN IN LATE FEBRUARY was beautiful. As a native, she was deeply biased. But even the most critical eye couldn’t fault the impending promise of spring, the fresh, crisp air or the general buzz of renewed energy in the people around her.

  ‘Arigato.’ She took her passport from the immigration officer and made her way through the VI
P exit of Itami Airport, very conscious of the imposing man beside her.

  Reiko breathed in deeply, her sense of homecoming so acute she stopped in her tracks just outside the doors leading out of the airport.

  A warm hand arrived at her back as Damion stopped beside her. ‘Are you okay?’

  Keeping her gaze averted from his heavy, puzzled stare, she nodded. ‘Better than okay. It’s good to be home.’

  In the twenty-four hours since she’d dropped her bombshell, she’d felt that look over and over. Even when she’d pretended to be tired during their flight and sought the insanely luxurious comfort of the private jet’s divan, she’d felt his gaze on her.

  What surprised her was that he hadn’t tried to prise the information out of her the way he’d tried to dig into everything else in her life.

  The thought that he’d lost interest that quickly, that he was willing to move on to another, more palatable target, should have pleased her. Instead it reminded her again of how easily he’d walked away five years ago.

  She pushed the painful thought to the back of her mind as a black limousine swung into the kerb in front of her.

  Again she felt the heat of Damion’s hand as he pushed her towards it.

  ‘Wait—what are you doing?’

  A droll expression flashed across his face. ‘I thought it was obvious. We’re getting into the car.’

  ‘You may be. I’m not. I’ll get a taxi. My apartment is only ten minutes away.’

  ‘You’re not staying at your apartment.’ His hand propelled her towards the car.

  ‘Don’t tell me—you just happen to own a penthouse suite in town, right?’

  ‘Naturally. I do a lot of business all over Japan. Besides, we have an agreement. Until the painting is in my possession, you remain with me.’

  When her contact had informed her that he’d traced the Femme sur Plage to a Japanese collector, she’d hoped for a quick dissolution of their association. Instead his insistence that she finish the job had brought a foolish little bubble of pleasure even as the fear that he would uncover her secrets grew in direct proportion.

  ‘So if I had to go and feed my imaginary goldfish, you wouldn’t let me go?’

  ‘I’d come with you. I’m quite interested to see these fish for myself.’

  She laughed. Just like that. The action took her by surprise. It seemed to take him by surprise, too, because his eyes widened right before a smile lifted his sensual mouth.

  Reiko let herself be propelled forward. The driver opened the door for her. Just before she got in, she felt Damion move closer. His breath brushed against the shell of her ear. ‘I also haven’t forgotten that bombshell you dropped last night. You now owe me several explanations, ma fleur. So you’re not going to get away from me that easily.’

  Icy dread snapped through her as she slid into the car. He got in behind her, his gaze intent on her face as the limo joined the smooth traffic.

  Several emotions were coursing through her, none of which she could readily vocalise. Finally, she glanced at him. ‘I thought you’d given up on m—on pursuing that particular subject.’

  The smile that curved his sensual mouth held the steel of determination. ‘Last night you were tired and distressed and clearly needed a reprieve. Don’t mistake reprieve for uninterest. I haven’t given up on you. Not by a long shot.’

  Her breath quickened and she called herself ten kinds of fool for not running in the other direction. Once Damion knew the true extent of how damaged she was, he would be the one doing the running. Of that she had no doubt.

  ‘This boundary thing isn’t really a problem for you, is it?’

  He grinned, flashing even white teeth that made him look years younger than his thirty-five. It also caused her heart to skitter in her chest like a rabbit on steroids.

  ‘Five years ago our chemistry was insane. Despite your curious desire to run from it, it’s still there. What you said was equivalent to tossing a grenade in my lap. Do you blame me for wanting to do something about that? What would you do in my place?’

  A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. ‘I’d chuck it out the nearest window and run like hell.’ Recalling just what it was they were discussing, she sobered. ‘I don’t know why you’re intent on pursuing this, but I’m truly not the woman you knew five years ago, Damion.’

  His smile slowly faded. ‘No, you’re not. But perhaps I may have misjudged you.’

  She felt a sharp kick under her ribcage. ‘You didn’t. I took your money—’

  ‘Then promptly gave it away to charity.’

  Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. ‘Don’t make me out to be a paragon, Damion. I’m as contemptible as you think I am.’ The things she’d done after he’d walked away …

  He inhaled sharply. ‘We’ve both done things we’re not proud of, but nothing is unforgivable.’

  The sudden lump in her throat made talking impossible so she just shook her head. When the pressure of his gaze got to be too much, she looked out of the window. Immediately she felt soothed by Kyoto’s familiar landmarks.

  The Imperial Palace and the Nijo Castle, even the mild stench from Nishiki Market imbued a sense of homecoming so strong, tears threatened.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’ Damion’s deep voice roused her from musings.

  As if on cue, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. With relief, she activated it and read the message.

  ‘We’re going clubbing.’

  He paced the vast living room of his penthouse, forcing himself not to check his watch for the umpteenth time. They were supposed to have left fifteen minutes ago.

  The last thing he wanted was to go out, especially in light of the latest morsel Reiko had revealed. What he really wanted to do was lock her up in a room and interrogate her until every last secret she was hiding was out in the open.

  But he knew he couldn’t do that. Thoughts of Isadora intruded. The hard stance he’d taken when he’d discovered just what she was hiding from him had reaped disastrous consequences. He couldn’t afford to do that with Reiko.

  Why is this so important to you?

  Damion shied away from the persistent voice and glanced at his watch again.

  Why was she taking so long? What was so damned special about where they were going that she had to make this much effort with her appearance?

  Recalling the smile on her face after she’d read the text, he clenched his jaw. Without realising he was moving, he stood in front of her door, his fist rapping on the polished wood.

  She pulled the door open. ‘Hold your horses. I’m ready …’

  The sudden drumming in his ears drowned out the rest of her words.

  Her dress was blood-red threaded with gold. The high collar and wide, long sleeves clearly lent themselves to a traditional geisha look that was destined to ensnare the interest of every red-blooded male with a ten-mile radius.

  But it was the plunging neckline that hit him like a punch in the solar plexus. The very smooth, very tempting slopes of her breasts made heat surge through his groin. He felt himself harden long before the seductive scent from her sinfully voluptuous body reached his nostrils. His fist suspended in the air, he swallowed thickly.

  ‘Damion?’

  ‘Oui?’ he managed past the haze of lust that threatened to unman him.

  She licked her lips and his fever rose another dangerous notch.

  ‘I said, are you okay?’

  He felt his frown return, but this time impatience at being kept waiting had nothing to do with his pique. ‘Naturellement. Why shouldn’t I be?’

  When she shrugged, his gaze fell back to the semi-exposed curve of one plump breast. ‘Are you wearing a coat over that dress?’

  Her perfectly plucked brow rose. ‘It’s warm out. I don’t need a coat.’

  He wanted to argue with that but held off. ‘Bien, let’s go.’

  He was about to turn and head for the door when her saucy smile stopped him in his tracks.

 
‘Quoi?’

  ‘You probably don’t play poker, but if you ever decide to take it up, I think you should know you have a tell.’

  ‘A tell?’

  She nodded. ‘You slip into French when you’re agitated. Although why you’re agitated right now is beyond me.’

  ‘Is it?’

  Damion deliberately let his gaze drop to linger over her face, her red-painted mouth, her sinfully delicious cleavage. He took his time, let his eyes feast on her. Then he met her eyes. Her skin held the distinct beginnings of a flush.

  Remembering the way her eyes darkened when she was aroused, as they were doing now, he swallowed hard. ‘Now that we’ve established the reason for my agitation, shall we go?’

  ‘I … of course … but …’

  ‘No more buts. You’ve thrown enough obstacles in my way. Let’s go and get this over with. Then we’ll deal with the buts.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a saying somewhere about arrogance and bullheadedness.’

  ‘We can add it to the many subjects to discuss later.’ He held out his arm to her. After a second’s hesitation, she took it. Satisfaction oozed through him. When her fingers found his forearm, Damion’s pulse jumped.

  Within seconds each and every muscle in his body tautened with need. He’d woken up this morning in the same state, his senses on high alert, as if held on a knife-edge of heady possibility.

  A part of him still resented her for taking another man to her bed so soon after him. But he’d realised during the course of a long, restless night that he risked hypocrisy since he’d done the same with Isadora mere weeks after leaving Reiko.

  The whole situation between them had been handled badly. He aimed to fix it.

  As for that nonsense about being incapable of having sex … Reiko oozed sex. If she thought that would throw him off, she would find out just how mistaken she was.

  Reiko Kagawa wanted him with the same intensity he wanted her. And he intended to make her face the reality of them tonight.

  The nightclub was located in Gion District, famous for its geisha interests. One look out of the window at the row of shabby warehouses and Damion was ready to tell the driver to keep driving. The grunge-wearing clubbers were so far removed from the members of the private gentlemen’s club and the exclusive social circles he moved in it was beyond hilarious.