“No, you’re not. Believe me, I’ve seen it a hundred times.”
“Seen people fainting?” she queried stupidly, latching on to something, anything, that would distract her from the horror of Maxim’s office. “How? Where?”
She thought she saw his mouth ghost a smile, but then it was gone. It couldn’t have been real because his brow was pulled so low. Fierce.
“Let’s just say I’ve seen plenty of people go into shock. Sometimes, it’s as simple as receiving news they didn’t want to hear. Like you.”
“Why are you here?”
That he didn’t answer immediately was hope at least. It gave her precious time to think things through. Somehow, Philip Taurel had been given the wrong information about the Bonvalet. That’s all it was. Misinformation. And despite the horror of it all, this could be cleared up. Perses didn’t seem so scary now. His solid, almost calming presence reassured her. He’d helped her. Perhaps he believed her?
“Who are you’re working for, Dr. Gilmore?”
Like she’d been tossed into an arctic sea to drown, all hope sank. “McCallister’s, of course.” So unconvincing when whispered through trembling lips, silly even, but maybe it was because she no longer had a place of work.
“Who else?”
She tried to sit up again, shrinking back when he shifted his weight toward her in warning. Perses was holding her prisoner.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
His hard stare didn’t let up. It was futile to try and match such invincibility.
“No games. Who else?”
Oh yes, she was his prisoner, and he was interrogating her like an expert. Like this was his job.
Gemma’s hackles rose in a desperate attempt at defense. “Are you going to beat it out of me?” So stupid, her show of defiance. She didn’t feel defiant. Just suddenly tired and all used up and wanting to go back to her workbench to finish her appraisal. Except she couldn’t go there. Not anymore.
“Beat you?” He looked so serious, she wondered for one horrible moment whether he might actually do it. “Maybe I should.” His expression relaxed a fraction, but it didn’t make him any less terrifying. “But you’re still in shock, so I’ll let it pass.”
“Why won’t you believe me? I don’t know anything about a forgery.”
“Princess, I don’t buy a single word coming out your mouth. That act in Stonebridge’s office was good, but not good enough.”
Her breath froze in her throat. Surely he didn’t actually believe those vile words?
“Why would I act? I didn’t pretend to faint.”
“Oh, you’re in shock all right. Because you’ve been caught. Not in a million years would you have expected that. The forgery you authenticated was flawless. You really did your homework. Yeah, it was perfect. It was just bad luck for you there was a tip-off.”
This was ridiculous. “Who are you talking about? The Bonvalet is genuine; I know it is.”
He barely acknowledged her words. “It’s likely the original has already been sold on the black market. No doubt the new owner will keep it hidden for a few years before putting it up for sale again. After years of dispute over ownership, nobody will be able to claim it. And of course, by then, it will be priceless.”
A surge of anger put some fight back into her weakened mind. Attack was the best form of defense, right?
“You’re a liar.”
Gemma tried to swing her feet off the sofa to stand up, but he reached over, caught her ankle and held it fast. An iron grip utterly used to dealing with physical opposition; this was normal for him. The man could hold ten of her. Fear seeped through her defiance.
“Let me go.”
“In time.” He paused, and Gemma felt his thumb slide along her ankle. She tried to quell a shiver but failed. He must have felt it as he looked up, his thumb stilling as he watched her. Reading her. “The thing is, we thought it was the Wentworth that was fake. And I never expected it to be you.”
“It’s not me!”
He shrugged. “Of course, I figured there’d be someone at the auction. Seeing a forgery sold was just too good an opportunity to miss.” He paused to look her over, slowly, methodically taking in every inch of her jeans and shirt. When he finally looked up, she caught the unmistakable flash of appreciation in his eyes. Her body warmed under the lingering appraisal. If he noticed, he didn’t let it show. “But you? No, you had me fooled.” His hand tightened its viselike grip as she moved to wrench her foot free. “Stay where you are.”
“You’re hurting me.”
“Then don’t move.”
“Who are you?”
“Your worst nightmare until you tell me the truth.” His words settled like ice on her skin.
“I am telling you the truth.”
“The hell you are. But I’ll get it out of you.” He released her ankle. “Get up. I’ll drive you home.”
“I don’t need your help,” she retorted, gaining confidence at having her ankle back. Sitting up, Gemma rubbed at her leg, thankful she could finally escape her tormentor.
He laughed then. The same growling rumble she remembered from a month ago. Except now it was hard and cold, his ruthless eyes drilling hers.
“Believe me, princess, I’m not offering help here. Just the opposite. No way are you getting away to warn your colleagues.”
She couldn’t physically escape him, but she still had a mouth, right? “I don’t have colleagues. Not the sort you mean, anyway. Let me leave right now, or I’ll scream. I mean it.”
“You can scream all the way to the parking lot if you want to.” His voice dropped to a growl. “On your feet.”
“No.”
“You want me to carry you again?” He half-smiled, but it held no warmth.
She opened her mouth to retort but snapped it shut fast. He could toss her effortlessly into his arms. She might even like it, as much as she hated to admit the idea. Being trapped against him, his hand curled under her legs, the other crushing her to his chest. Every inch of him was sensual, raw power. That power was what had drawn her to him in the first place. Infuriatingly, it still drew her. Okay, so part of her wanted him. It didn’t matter. She’d had the hots for good-looking men before. This was no different.
She fed him the strongest glare she could manage and got to her feet, trying to stabilize herself under the residual giddiness. “I can walk, thank you.” How prim that sounded.
“That’s a pity. Actually, I had intended to throw you over my shoulder.”
And he’d do it without a second thought. It wouldn’t matter to him if she was slung over his shoulder or dragged by her hair, kicking and screaming, all the way to the basement. Still, once she was home, she could slam the door in his face and then set about fixing this terrible misunderstanding with McCallister’s. Perses hadn’t said whom he worked for, but it couldn’t be Philip Taurel. Not by the way Perses had threatened him. Forcing Taurel to apologize hadn’t been chivalry. That wall of muscle standing before her didn’t have a chivalrous bone in his body. No, his motivation had been something else.
She shrank back when he put out his hand. “Give me your phone.”
He’d take it off her anyway, so she obeyed. Slipping it out of its holder attached to her jeans waistband, she held it at arm’s length, almost dropping it through her trembling fingers. She watched him thumb through the display, checking recent calls, texts, contacts.
“You won’t find anything,” she muttered sullenly.
He handed it back. “If you try and use it, I’ll take it off you for good.” Opening the door, he waited while she tested her wobbly feet. “After you, Dr. Gilmore.”
For a crazy split second, she had an overwhelming urge to make a run for it. If she could just make it to the elevator and close the doors, she’d lose him. But he was too close, shadowing her every step. He’d show no mercy. She’d be over his shoulder like a sack of corn, and somehow she didn’t think screaming or pounding her fists into his back would
save her.
“Excuse me, sir. I have Gemma’s ... Dr. Gilmore’s purse.”
Was this some crazy conspiracy? Margot had actually gone to her workroom and collected her bag. They wanted her out of the building as of now. Like she was a criminal, not even trusted enough to collect her art books and photos and her favorite cashmere sweater she always left at work.
“Take it,” was all he said, holding the purse out.
Her whole body shook when his big hand gripped her elbow again, steering her relentlessly toward the elevator.
“Margot, call the police,” she pleaded over her shoulder, making a last, desperate attempt at escape. Surely that would stop him in his tracks.
Except her plea was ignored. Gemma heard Margot’s heels rapping against the parquet floor all the way back to her office. Did nobody care that this terrifying man was kidnapping her? She felt sick with fear. He really meant this.
“Who are you?”
He smiled grimly. “We’ll get acquainted soon enough.”
CHAPTER THREE
His plan hadn’t worked.
He’d scared her all right, but not into confessing. Gemma Gilmore might not fit his usual suspect profile, but no way was she going to make this easy.
Being rough with her might have been necessary, but he didn’t feel good about it. This woman—now standing in her kitchen, where she’d fled to escape him—was made for other things. Things that he’d ached to do since he’d first spotted her in that alcove at McCallister’s. Like explore those soft, delicate curves. Taste that full mouth again. Look into those incredible, blue eyes when she welcomed him into her body.
Except that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, despite the heat between them. The princess was looking at him like he was the devil himself, eyes wide and wary, primed and ready to bolt for the door if he gave her half a chance.
He knew from experience that if she were going to confess, it would need to be in the next few minutes while she was still too numb with shock to think straight. He was lucky to have her scared at all. After Taurel had insulted her and he’d stepped in, she might have lost her fear. It had been a risk, but he couldn’t let Taurel—or anyone else for that matter—speak to her like that. Even now, he had to fight the urge to show her a kinder side. To help her instead of interrogating her until he got the truth. He stood in the middle of her tiny apartment and watched her struggle to open a bottle of Perrier, her hands trembling so hard that, in the end, she gave up. Yeah, Dr. Gilmore was all shocked to hell, but that was understandable. If her impressive international reputation was anything to go by, her work was her whole life—and her life had just blown apart.
In his work, he’d never come close to meeting a woman like her. They were worlds apart, but even so, he could see the similarities. Gemma Gilmore had talent and ambition—the very things that his superiors had identified and cultivated in him. He smiled ruefully to himself. Under other circumstances they might have liked each other.
“Let me,” he offered, shrugging off his jacket and taking the few steps to the kitchen. She backed away to maintain distance from him.
He gestured to a shelf behind her. “Glass?”
She didn’t argue. Just turned and took a tumbler down, setting it on the countertop, her gaze focused on every movement of his hands as he undid the bottle and filled the glass. He might have felt a little sorry for her, but he couldn’t afford to offer sympathy.
He held out the water for her. She took it, her hand now shaking so hard she had to set the glass down on the countertop.
“Take it easy, Dr. Gilmore. I don’t bite.” He quirked a small smile to ease her anxiety just enough so she could speak. “Except when it’s a medium-rare steak.”
Surprisingly, she almost smiled back. The tiniest upward flicker, nothing more, but dammit if it didn’t put him on the back foot—and not for the first time with this woman.
“That’s better. Just relax.”
She stayed silent, so he went on, trying to focus his thoughts. He couldn’t believe how much she affected him. Invaded his senses.
“You can get through this, Gemma.” He paused, waiting while she registered the use of her name. “I know it seems like the end of the world right now, but people get sucked into things they normally wouldn’t do.” He slid his fingers under her chin to ease her head back, waiting until she met his gaze before continuing. “Is that how it was?”
She blinked at the question. “No ... I—this is crazy.”
“We know all about it. The planning. The people involved. We just need a few gaps filled.” He dropped his voice. Made it soft. “Can you do that for me? Fill those gaps?”
“Are you police?”
Damn, she was starting to think through the situation. It wouldn’t take her long to realize they had no real proof of her involvement. And she’d be right. The forgery was so good she could simply say she’d got it wrong. Yeah, it was a meticulously planned and executed job. Chasing down art forgers wasn’t his usual line of work, but he’d been put on forced leave after his last grueling mission and was happy to take on an easy job. But this was not as easy as he’d expected. The Wentworth was genuine and, assuming the tip-off to be false, they’d closed the case. Until yesterday. Now it was complicated and about to get even more complicated. Dr. Gilmore was no longer in shock. Now she was all wide-eyed suspicion.
Ready for him.
“Why were you in Venice three months ago?”
Her eyes flashed surprise, then anger. “Have you been following me?”
In truth, McCallister’s personnel manager had provided the information minutes before the meeting in Stonebridge’s office, though he couldn’t afford to tell her that detail. He needed her to think she’d been tailed for months. “Not me personally, although I might have enjoyed that. Answer me.”
“I was there on vacation,” she snapped defiantly.
There had to be more. He took a punt.
“We know who the guy is.” He fixed his eyes on her breasts to distract her. Under that white linen shirt, the hint of a pink bra was distracting the hell out of him.
She blushed. At least he had her unsettled again, although she was looking at him like he was some predator. Hell, he felt like some goddamned predator. He wanted to taste every inch of her.
“How do you know him?”
“He’s ... he’s just a friend.”
Yeah, he was right. She’d gone to Venice with a man.
“Was he a good fuck?”
“You pig!” The word shot out of her mouth so fast he knew her reaction was genuine. “He’s better than you’d ever be, that’s for sure.”
Whoa, that went better than expected. All fired up, and with a little luck, she’d blow a fuse any second and blurt something out.
“Hey, a friend with benefits is a good thing. Gets rid of all that pent-up frustration. Who else have you been doing? An art forger?”
“Get out!”
He didn’t move. Just waited while she worked out what to do next. If he didn’t know better, she could pass for innocent. But being the best in her field, there’s no way could she have mistaken the forgery for the real thing.
“How much did he pay you to authenticate the fake?”
“Go to hell!” She started to push past him toward the door, then stopped, her body inches from his, staring straight ahead at his chest. He held his breath, waiting, knowing what was about to happen. She was angry and confused, but she was also turned on by his roughness. He’d seen it a hundred times. That fine line between loathing and lust. Yeah, she was stuck in limbo all right, deciding whether to do something about her arousal or order him out.
“You want me to kiss you again, sweetheart?”
His endearment caught her completely off-guard. Her gaze fell in embarrassment, then, perhaps realizing it might look like a crotch stare, flew quickly back to his chest. A pity she hadn’t looked. If she had, she’d have seen exactly what was on his mind.
“Perses.�
�� The word exhaled from her mouth on a wisp of breath—so soft, he barely caught the sound. A code name?
He tilted her head back again, trying to read her expression. “Tell me what that means.” With a small shiver, she angled her face into his hand, closing her eyes in surrender. The air between them was electric. Heavy. “Tell me, Gemma,” he repeated softly.
Then she smiled, as if holding some delicious secret. A gentle curve of her beautiful mouth that took his breath away and had him slipping his arm around her small waist, splaying his fingers flat across her back to draw her softness to him. Her body quivered under his hand. This wasn’t fear. It was desire. “What’s making you smile?”
“Your name.”
“What? Perses?”
She gave a barely perceptible nod. “The Titan god of destruction.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that. True, he’d destroyed a few things in his time, so, yeah, it kind of fit. With his free hand, he tangled his fingers in her long mane of raven hair, forcing her head back to look into her eyes. She fought to avoid his gaze, but he held her firmly, until finally, the azure pools lifted to his and he knew there was no turning back. Neither of them would be able to stop this until sated. His interrogation had failed. He needed some other way to get her to open up.
This way.
He kissed her, his blood turning to fire as she responded. Tasting him. Welcoming his tongue into her mouth. Her hands fisted his shirt as she pushed high on her toes to press her belly against his erection.
“Bedroom?” he barked.
Her eyes slid toward the half-open door to his right.
“Beside you.”
He half-turned. Shit. Wasn’t that a closet or something? No way could they fit in there. Well, if he had to bang her standing up, so be it.
Slipping his hands under her arms, he lifted her straight up to his height, grunting in approval when her legs went around his waist, her mouth finding his as he carried her through to her tiny bedroom. He heard her shoes clatter to the floor behind him.
The bed was barely big enough for him, let alone the two of them, but he could work around that. Plunking her down on her back, he started on her jeans. Yeah, it was fast, unromantic, but he needed her now. He’d explore every inch of her later.
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 7
