Never Truth Amazon

by Ramsower, Jill

  “My father would lose his shit if he found out I was working with Russians.”

  “Sof, you’ve kept your secrets your whole life. There’s no reason he should ever have to know. My father’s people won’t have any idea who my source is. This will be our little secret.” He winked, then tossed the poster back onto the table. “Now let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  It was my turn to throw back my head and laugh, feeling more alive than I could ever recall feeling. The completed painting had been sitting in my studio for weeks. I hadn’t had a concrete plan what to do with it. Like I’d told Michael, initially, I had painted it purely as a personal challenge. Once it was complete and I realized how perfectly I’d duplicated the original, I started to imagine the possibilities.

  Dangerous, thrilling possibilities.

  That was as far as I’d entertained the idea, unsure if I was willing or able to take it any further. When Michael made his comment at the museum, it felt like fate—like all the crazy events of my life were actually the carefully placed steppingstones leading me to that specific place in time. My brother’s death opening my eyes to my family’s secrets and leading me to Nico. Nico’s departure bringing Michael into my life. At the time, the two greatest sorrows of my life seemed insurmountable. But each had been instrumental in getting me to where I was—strong and confident.

  A woman who knew what she wanted.

  A woman with a taste for the darker side of life.

  ***

  Over the next four years, Michael acted as my broker in our lucrative partnership. Of course, it hadn’t been about the money. My parents had set up trust funds for all of us girls. I appreciated knowing I’d made my own money, but the business was more than that.

  It was my passion.

  I loved creating unique art of my own, but there was nothing like the thrill of duplicating a world-renown masterpiece. I adored my work and had no intention of quitting. Even if my family had no problem with my activities, they would be furious with my choice of partners. Fortunately, they thought I was the perfect little angel Sofia, and I was happy to support that misconception as long as possible.

  Michael and I remained as close as ever, although we didn’t see each other all that often while I was at school. We tried to have lunch on occasion, but we were both busy. He’d taken on a more active role with his father’s business, acquiring the eight-pointed stars of the bratva when he’d taken his oath. One by one, he’d obtained dozens of tattoos that blended into an intricate human work of art.

  He might have been enormously intimidating to anyone else, but to me, he was freedom and acceptance personified. I didn’t care what faction he joined or how many tattoos he got, and he accepted me for every one of my flaws and idiosyncrasies. We were a team—a package deal—and I wasn’t about to let anyone tear us apart.

  Chapter 19

  Sofia

  Now

  I successfully avoided Nico for two whole days. He had texted and called—presumably acquiring my number from my parents—but I hadn’t read the messages or listened to his voicemails. I knew I was acting childish, but I didn’t know how to handle the situation, so I’d simply avoided it.

  After having sex with Nico, I had laid in bed wide-awake with his arm draped over me for hours. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I slipped from the bed and headed for the living room. I managed a few hours of sleep on the sofa, then fled to Starbucks the moment the sun began to rise. I’d done more thinking in two days’ time than I had in my whole lifetime, and I still had no idea what to do.

  I was relieved when my boss asked me to come into work on Monday morning. The gallery wasn’t open, but there was always a mountain of paperwork to be done. My boss had a great eye for art and was loads of fun to be around, but he sucked at the administrative aspects of running a gallery. I spent an hour or so rifling through papers and listening to Miles chatter about his weekend when I heard a knock on the glass door. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest at the thought of Nico catching up with me, but I quickly relaxed when I saw Michael peeking through the tinted glass.

  Unlocking the deadbolt, I ushered him inside. “Hey, Michael. What’s up?”

  “Is that Michael?” called Miles from around the corner. “If I’d known having you here would bring Michael around more often, I would have hired you sooner.” Miles winked at me as he walked over, then gave Michael a hug. “What brings you in?”

  “It’s good to see you, Miles. I just needed to have a word with Sofia, if you aren’t too busy.”

  “Not at all! We were getting some housekeeping stuff done—nothing super important. You two need me, I’ll be back here buried in the storage closet. If I’m not back in half an hour, send help.” He grabbed a clipboard and disappeared around the corner.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked quietly.

  “Yeah, don’t worry. I wanted you to know I did some digging on that detective you talked to, and it looks like he wasn’t a cop. My sources at the city had no record of a James Breechner—nor could I find anything at the state or fed level. Did he show you a badge or any form of identification?”

  “No, I can’t believe I didn’t ask for that. Who the hell do you think he is?”

  “No idea. If you see him again, call me immediately. I have eyes out for him, but you be extra cautious, okay?”

  I nodded distractedly, still trying to imagine who Breechner worked for and why he’d sought me out.

  “Hey, look at me,” Michael called to me softly, drawing my eyes back to his. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with you. He was probably just questioning you because he saw us together.”

  “That’s supposed to make me feel better?” I teased with a hint of sarcasm. “I don’t want someone after you any more than I do me.”

  “It should make you feel better. I can take care of myself—promise. I figured you knew that by now.” He gave me a smirk, but it didn’t lighten my mood as intended.

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry about you.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not exactly the type to sit at home and worry. You sure there isn’t something else bothering you?”

  I let out a deep breath, my shoulders sagging. “Nico showed up last week.”

  Michael’s eyebrows nearly touched his hairline. “No shit! How’d that go?”

  “Well …”

  Muttering from the other room interrupted me just as I started to speak.

  “Can we talk about it over breakfast tomorrow? It’s complicated, and I’d rather not share with the world.”

  “Of course. How about Sarabeth’s at eight?”

  “Perfect. I appreciate you stopping by to let me know what you found.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll see you in the morning.” He tapped my nose with his knuckle and breezed out of the gallery.

  I tried not to spend the rest of the day worrying about the fake cop or Nico, but it was exhausting. By the time I ran a few errands and got back to my parents’ house that evening, the only thing I wanted to do was paint. I tossed my keys on the bench, ran upstairs to change into sweats, and then headed for my sanctuary.

  Flipping on the light in my studio, I screeched when I found Nico leaning against the far wall. “What the hell? Just because you work for my dad doesn’t mean you can just let yourself in whenever.”

  “Is that what I am to you? Just some guy who works for your dad?” His voice was eerily quiet and deadly calm. “Close the door. We need to talk.”

  An entire brigade of alarm bells began to sound in my head. I knew Nico would not be happy about me avoiding him, but I hadn’t expected him to be so upset. What had he expected? I’d made him no promises. He couldn’t just waltz in after seven years away and expect that one night together would fix everything.

  I tried to keep my growing agitation under wraps, knowing it wasn’t going to help matters. Instead, I closed the door and told myself I’d listen to whatever he had to say before overreacting. “What do we
need to talk about?” I asked as I folded my arms across my chest, mirroring his own stance.

  “Aside from the obvious?” He lifted a brow to indicate the hot mess of our relationship. “We need to discuss a certain painting I saw at one of the bratva offices today.”

  Ideally, this was where I would have scrunched up my brow and feigned complete ignorance. However, his words were so unexpected, all I could do was struggle to keep my desperate panic from showing on my face. My heart rate doubled almost instantly, but I refused to let my breathing reflect its extra exertion. I kept my face impassive and my body totally motionless aside from perfectly controlled breathing. “I’m not well versed at Russian art but go ahead.” The retort wasn’t half bad, and I gave myself a mental high five. Not that it mattered. In every other respect, I was a deer sighted by the hungry wolf, and my chances were slim to none.

  “I assume since the artwork was yours, you’d be very familiar with it.”

  “And what makes you think the piece was mine?”

  “It was a painting of a pile of skulls. The same pile of skulls I watched you working on that night I came to talk to your father. The same skulls you were so worried about me seeing when I told you I’d watched you paint.” His detached air heated with accusation as he laid the groundwork for his claims.

  I shook my head and pulled out my phone. “Is this what you saw?” I thrust my phone forward, showing him an image of a painting. “It’s called Pyramid of Skulls by Paul Cézanne. Yes, I was painting a lookalike, but people do that stuff all the time! It’s like seeing a Monet or van Gogh knockoff at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I don’t know why you’d think my painting would be with the Russians. Just because you’ve got an active imagination doesn’t mean I’ve done anything wrong.”

  His eyes perused the image, then narrowed as I attempted to argue my way out of the conversation, but he never made a move for the phone. He eased off the wall and slowly stalked toward me, causing me to retreat backward.

  “For the past seven years, it’s been crucial for me to hone my instincts and listen to my gut. You know what my gut is telling me right now?” he asked in a rumbling, seductive tone.

  My back pressed against the opposite wall as I shook my head, unable to form a response.

  “It’s telling me you’re full of shit.”

  My nostrils flared as I attempted not to act outraged. “I suppose it’s your word against mine.”

  A wicked glint sparked in his eyes as the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not exactly, Sofia, baby. If you don’t want to tell me the truth the easy way, we’ll just have to do it the hard way.”

  The hard way? What did he mean?

  Nico would never hurt me.

  At least, I didn’t think he would. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure. “What are you talking about?”

  Nico pressed his chest forward, caging me between him and the wall with his hands planted firmly on either side of me. “I’m talking about this beautiful body of yours.” He eased in, placing sensual kisses down the column of my neck.

  My head rolled to the side, unable to reject the delicious sensation of his touch. As his hands came up between us and massaged my breasts, a wanton moan escaped my lips. “Nico…” A breathless plea, but for more or to stop, I wasn’t sure.

  Suddenly, he lifted me, then turned to lay my back on the tile floor with his body stretched over mine. He kissed me long and hard until I was drunk on the taste of him, only breaking free of the fog when he lifted my shirt up over my head. He stretched my arms above me, wrapping my shirt around my wrists, then leaned in to kiss me again. When I made to pull my hands back down, I discovered he had used the strings on one of my aprons to secure my wrists together.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Shhhh, just trust me,” he soothed, tugging at my wrists again.

  I reluctantly allowed him to place my hands far above my head, only to realize he was tying them to the heavy wooden leg of my supply table.

  Before I could argue, it was too late. My wrists were bound, and he was lowering to kiss my neck and chest. His hands tugged at my sweatpants, which gave easily, as they had only been held up by a loose drawstring.

  “Nico, my parents! We can’t do this in here,” I whisper-yelled, starting to panic.

  “Your parents went into the city until late tonight. No one’s here but you and me.” He sat back on his heels, admiring my prone form before him. “I should spank your ass for running from me.”

  My core practically dripped with moisture at his words. I’d never been interested in BDSM or kink, but something about Nico made everything sound good.

  “My girl likes that, does she? I’ll remember that. These nipples pebbled up so tight, they look like little pink candies I want to suck on all night long.” His eyes lifted for a second before he rose to his feet.

  A sliver of fear trickled down my spine. He wouldn’t leave me like this as punishment, would he?

  Before I went too far with that train of thought, he made a quick trip to my bookshelf and returned to my side. I had several strings hung in the room where I clipped inspiration photos. In his hand were some of the tiny clothespins I used to hang the pictures. He straddled my waist, and I watched in an intoxicating mix of trepidation and desire as he clipped one of the pins onto my nipple.

  I gasped, arching at the intense sensation. It was fascinating—not entirely pleasure or pain, but a heady mix of both. He secured a second clip onto my other nipple, then tied a lose string between them. When he gave a gentle tug, it ignited sensation in both breasts at the same time. My mind felt like it might fracture. “Oh, Jesus, Nico …”

  “I told you this body was mine,” he purred. “Never doubt that I know exactly how to use it.” He pushed my knees back, opening me to him, then kissed a path from the inside of my knee to my core. I was already so aroused, and my sensitive flesh pulsed for his touch. When his tongue thrust inside me, then rounded up over my swollen clit at the same time as his hand tugged on the string, I thought I was going to pass out.

  Over and over he worked me, building an inferno of desire in every cell of my being, but withholding the spark that would rocket me into flames.

  “Nico, please …” I sobbed, over sensitized and desperate for release.

  “I need the truth, Sofia,” he whispered against my core, his warm breath its own brand of torture.

  “You can’t do this. It isn’t fair.”

  “You had a choice, Ladybug. You chose this.” His tongue slowly lapped from my opening up my slit.

  “I can’t,” I panted. “I can’t tell you everything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll make me stop.”

  “Who says?”

  “Me.”

  “And if I promise not to?”

  “You’ll do it anyway.”

  “Then tell me what you can. You can trust me, Sofia.” His fingers eased inside me and curved up, stimulating that perfect spot inside me.

  “It was mine,” I moaned the confession. “The painting’s mine.” I was unable to think straight or care about anything but finding my release.

  He knew I had lied.

  He knew it was my painting—so why fight it?

  “And why was it with the bratva?” he pushed.

  “I make forgeries, and they find buyers for me.” There, I’d told him. The secret was out, and it felt amazing to free myself of the burden. “Please, Nico.”

  “That’s my girl …” His mouth covered my pussy just as his fingers pounded inside me, and his other hand yanked the clips off my tender nipples.

  I screamed out my orgasm, erupting in a maelstrom of pleasure that radiated across my body. In that instant, I couldn’t have cared if I’d given the devil my very soul. I was the embodiment of peace and light and everything good. But all good things must come to an end, and eventually, my consciousness slowly found its way back into my body.

  Nico freed my hands, then sat next to me on the ground, lifting me i
nto his lap to cradle me close. “Who are you working with in the bratva?”

  I shook my head just a fraction. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Yes, you can. It has something to do with your friend Michael, doesn’t it?”

  As if he’d waved a smelling salt under my nose, I was instantly alert. Shooting out of Nico’s lap, I grabbed my pants and began to dress. “What do you know about Michael?” I was clearly freaking out, but I couldn’t help myself. If Nico knew about Michael, I was screwed. He would tell my father, and they’d both insist I stay away from him. That wasn’t an option. Michael had become one of the best parts of my life, and I refused to give him up.

  Nico stood and angled himself in front of the door, his features hardening. “What I know is the man doesn’t exist. I couldn’t find a goddamn thing on him, and that means he’s not someone you should be hanging around.”

  “Stop!” I spat at him, shoving my finger in his chest. “You stop right there before you go any farther. Michael was the one who picked me up off the ground and brought me back to life after you left. So don’t you dare tell me to stay away from him. If you didn’t want him in my life, you never should have left.” I squeezed past him, opening the door and thundering down the hall.

  I went straight to my room and slammed the door. Nico could find his own damn way out, and he’d have one hell of a fight on his hands if he tried to follow me up here. I’d gone from blissed out to furious in two minutes flat.

  He wanted answers, and he got them. What he wouldn’t get was control over my life.

  I wanted to be with Nico, but I wasn’t willing to compromise certain things in the process. I didn’t know where that left us, but the choice was up to him. I’d told him where I stood. He would have to decide if he would concede to my terms or if he was going to risk losing me for good.

  Chapter 20

  Nico

  Now

  What the hell just happened?

  I stood alone in the quiet of Sofia’s studio, her taste still on my tongue, wondering how the small progress we’d made had devolved so quickly. She had been pliant in my arms, finally confessing her sins to me when the mention of Michael made her more defensive than an injured animal.