That was the last thing she wanted to hear two weeks before her art show. “Then, what should I do?”
“The right product needs the right buyers.” He motioned for her to stand next to him as he thumbed through the stack of her most recent paintings. She did, very aware of her proximity to him. God, why did he have to wear that cologne again? It was even more intoxicating without the sweat-soaked humidity of Stick’s nightclub clouding it. Erica leaned into it.
No.
What was she doing? She wrenched herself backwards and began straightening the blank canvases that needed filling before her art show. She needed to focus on her showcase. Not get sucked into another self-righteous jerk. Didn’t she just call off her engagement five minutes ago?
She should have been a pile of weeping goo on the floor, not unraveling at the sight of Julius Craul practically worshipping her work and swooning over his cologne. But she didn’t feel the devastation she was expecting. Maybe she hadn’t given it enough time for the hurt to come. Maybe if she thought about the good times with Max, the pit of loss from breaking it off with him would consume her. Erica waited for it to come. It didn’t.
“Erica?”
Erica twisted toward him. Frick, she must have looked like a complete flake. Staring blankly at a stack of empty canvases, thinking about her ex, and wringing her hands together like a loon wasn’t painting a picture of her sanity. Immediately, she loosened her arms.
“Yes?” She cleared her throat and focused her attention back on him. He’d asked her something, but for the life of her she couldn’t remember what he’d said.
“You seem… distracted,” he said, studying her. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine… just a little thirsty. Would you like anything?”
“You’re not offering what I want. So, I’m fine for now.”
Was Julius insinuating that he wanted her? Or was that her hopeful, revenge-filled mind playing tricks on her? She sucked in a long breath and watched him. His face caught the light again in ways that made her heart leap. Her thoughts turned mutinous.
She was already craving a rebound. That must be a record of some kind. Gosh, Max had her so screwed up in the head. First, she didn’t even mourn for the loss of their two years together. Now, as Julius looked at her like she was a milkshake he wanted to slurp down, she couldn’t take her mind off of how wonderful a distraction it would be.
It wouldn’t be so bad if she distracted herself with Julius. Give in to the temptation of just feeling wanted for once in her life. Her thoughts curved from the angry thoughts of Max and on to the welcome ones of Julius. Being around him disorientated her, as if his cologne was some sort of love potion. The way he looked at her made her feel admired again. Wanted. A night of harmless flirting wouldn’t be so bad. Would it?
Erica filled a glass with water from the tap and gulped it down. It went down thick.
My goodness, was she really going to go through with it? Flirt with Julius? Of course she was going to go through with it. Flirting was harmless. She deserved a little bit of flirting.
Julius watched her the entire time. She could feel the heat of his gaze scan her movements, but when she finally looked over, he was rifling through her paintings again.
He paused on a portrait of two kids on a playscape at the park two blocks from her studio. Gently, Julius caressed the corner where she’d signed her name. He seemed to like this one better than the others. After studying it for several moments, he pulled it from the stack.
“It’s clear you have a knack for realism. The textures that you get when painting skin are incredible. It’s almost as if I could reach in and touch it. Your work will attract the kind of clientele that would pay handsomely for it.”
“Well, how do I find them?”
“You said your parents host events?”
She nodded.
“When’s the next one?”
“My father’s 50th birthday party is Saturday.” Erica held back a heavy sigh. “My mother usually throws a party for him and invites his business associates. I was hoping I was scheduled to work that night, that way I’d have an excuse for not going. But I’m guessing my mother got to Stick before I could because he didn’t put me on the schedule.”
“Then, that’s perfect.”
“The misery that’s sure to be the Wallace family party is perfect?” Erica doubted from the brightened look on Julius’s face that he understood how awful those parties were.
Gone were the easygoing parties of her youth, where they were surrounded by family and friends. Erica couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d danced a cheesy line dance with her cousins. Ever since her father found that his rise in his business gained him equal political clout, their entire circle changed. It became more uptight, more exclusive, less friendly. Less real.
“So, we go to that miserable dinner, invite the high rollers out to my showcase. And then what? Hope they show up on a prayer?”
“Do you want to know something I learned as a child?”
Erica was reluctant to hear anything that included why she needed to attend, but nodded anyway.
“The value of something is not intrinsic. Its value is what you make others believe it’s worth.”
“So, what you’re saying is that my paintings are worthless.”
“On the contrary. They are priceless. Art always is.”
“Then, how do I sell it?”
A devilish smirk played on his lips. “By having an ally, that’s how.”
Intrigued, Erica leaned toward him. Julius seemed to like that, as his smirk grew into an appreciative smile. His long fingers drummed on the next painting as he examined it with the same reverence as he did the others. “If someone else shows interest in your work, then others will clamor to get to it. And if there is a story behind it, the value doubles.”
This much Erica already knew. The trouble was getting the first set of buyers in the first place. Then his insinuation dawned on her. Oh... “You’re offering to be my ally.”
“Precisely.”
“What do you get out of it?”
“The businessman in me tells me I should take a commission for every piece I help you sell. The man trying to get to your creamy thighs says I should do it in good faith.”
A spark of desire thumped through her at his words.
“Wow, that was… very honest.”
“We’re being absolutely honest here, aren’t we?”
Erica cleared her throat. “Of course, we are. I just wasn’t expecting—I mean...”
“Erica, do my advances make you uncomfortable? Because I won’t stop until you tell me to.”
Her mouth went dry again. The green of his concerned eyes seemed to darken slightly, drawing her in. The air between them threatened to ignite, and for a millisecond, Erica thought he might kiss her. Erica could think of a thousand things she was right then. Uncomfortable was the furthest thing from her mind. Scared was more like it. Her attraction to him set her pulse throbbing in her ear. No one had ever made her feel that before.
“Are you telling me to stop?”
“Absolute truth?” Her words were small and thin.
It was Julius’s turn to nod.
“N-no. And that terrifies me.”
His eyes softened for a moment as he subtly moved toward the next stack of paintings leaning against the wall beside the first. “I’m apologize if my advances come off the wrong way… I can be a bit forward.”
“It’s not you that I’m afraid of,” Erica interjected quickly, cursing the distance he put between them.
“I see. You are already spoken for.” It wasn’t a question. He cast an accusatory glance at the phone in her pocket. For a split-second Erica wondered if he’d overheard the argument she’d had before he announced himself at the door. She quickly dismissed the thought. Her apartment-turned-studio was built as a safe house during wartime. There was no way her voice had travelled through that much concrete.
Erica
cleared the lump from her throat. “No, not anymore.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.”
Again, his gaze fell on her pocket with a look that told her he wanted to ask about it. She prayed he didn’t. Unfortunately, fate wasn’t in her corner.
“What happened?”
Erica wasn’t ready to talk about Max or their on-again off-again, mostly on the rocks relationship that had been teetering on the brink long before their botched anniversary dinner. If she hadn’t been the one to call him, they probably never would have spoken again. Instead of blurting all of this aloud, Erica settled on, “It’s complicated.”
Julius made a sound of disapproval.
“That is the truth! It’s complicated. Besides, it’s your turn for a secret. Who’s the girl who broke your heart? Then, maybe, I’ll tell you all about the guy who broke mine.”
“All I want to know is his address so I can kill him.”
Erica laughed. “Aggressive much, vampire?”
“What can I say, vampires are known to be territorial.”
“You’re stalling again.” She threw his challenge back at him.
“Guilty.” Julius sighed before he faced her fully. “Her name was Cinda.”
“Go on.”
“You only asked for a name,” A sudden sly smile teased her. “And a name is all you’ll get. Your turn. Tell me about Mr. Complicated.”
“Unfair.” Erica poked her bottom lip out with a playful frown before turning serious. “It seems like we’re both unwilling to talk about our exes.”
“Fair enough. I don’t want to think of you bedding anyone else.”
“Besides you?”
Julius’s sure fingers fumbled over the last painting in the stack. He laid a steady gaze on her, direct and pointed. “Are you offering?”
Her retort knotted in her throat. The scent of him pulled her further in. It wasn’t until that moment that she realized she was inches away from him. She must have unconsciously drifted toward him. He hadn’t moved an inch from looking at her stack of paintings, but there she was, right on top of him. If she so much as exhaled, her lips would brush against his shoulder.
God, you need to calm down girl, Erica reprimanded herself, squeezing her knees together, trying desperately to quell the budding desire ignited by the thought of kissing every inch of him. “If it’s worth my while.”
“Believe me, love, if I got you in my bed, you’d never want to leave.”
“That sure of yourself?” she asked instead of the ‘yes, please’ she was thinking.
“We all have our talents,” Julius said with a confident shrug. From his demeanor and tone, there was no doubt in her mind that his talents were extensive. He pulled one of her paintings out of the stack and set it against the wall behind him. He hadn’t remarked on any of the details, but from the way his entire body seemed to glow, Erica knew this one was his favorite. He pulled out another.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he grabbed a third.
“Taking the best ones for myself,” he said with a grin. “Two weeks from now, they’ll all be sold. I don’t want to miss out on my chance to secure an original.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“Don’t worry love, you will. First, we tackle Saturday. After that, the art will sell itself.”
“You’re really going to help me?” Erica asked and Julius nodded. “And I suppose it’s in good faith?”
“Are you saying I have a chance?”
“I’m not saying you don’t.”
“I’ll take that.” He walked over to the sofa again and sat, staring at her half-covered canvas with curiosity. Erica usually hated when someone glimpsed her art before it was finished. It was… well, personal. Having someone see the bare color-blocked canvas was like displaying her soul. A deep vulnerability usually squeezed its way to the surface when someone got too close. But with Julius, his presence seemed to calm her. He didn’t give off an air of judgement. Only one of curiosity.
“What’s that going to be?” he asked of the portrait sitting on her easel.
It was of him. After she met him, he was all her muse would let her see in her artistic eye. The many blank canvases around the room were testament to her art block. After sitting on her stool for hours, she’d decided to just give in to her muse and let his image flow across the canvas. Thankfully, she’d only gotten to the dark hues of Stick’s nightclub. Color splotches formed the background of the piece, but she layered nothing on top of it yet. She could tell him it was anything, really. Otherwise he’d think she was a lunatic, painting his likeness like a madwoman after only seeing him twice. He’d probably think she was obsessed with him.
“Absolute truth,” he warned, like he could see the lie forming in her mind.
“Okay fine. It’s of you.”
“You’re painting me?” The awe in his tone made her giddy inside. No one, not even Max, looked at her that way. The way a child looked on Christmas morning after getting the exact toy they’d asked for. His admiration floored her. He looked at the painting again.
“How long before its finished?”
“Depends on the paint.” Erica shrugged, trying to hide a blush creeping up on her cheeks. “Best guess, a week or so if I can get the lighting right.”
“I’m in town for a couple of weeks. I’d love to see it once it’s completed. Now, let’s cover our game plan for Saturday night.”
And they did. Dinner was served promptly at 7. He’d pick her up at 6, they’d go to the preceding cocktail hour, glad hand with the rich and powerful, and by the time the dessert course made its way around, invite her high rollers to the show once they were fat, drunk, and merry. Julius’s words, not hers. The plan was sound, even if it made her jittery.
“Now that dinner is squared away. Time for rapid fire truth,” Julius announced.
“What’s that?”
“I’ll ask you a set of questions that you must answer, no thinking it over. Just whatever comes off the top of your head.”
“Turnabout is fair play. We’ll take turns.”
“I’m going to love you in my bed.” He grinned.
“Alright Casanova, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Are we playing or what?”
“We’ll start off easy. Then, the questions will get tougher. Favorite color?”
“Seafoam green. Lately, it’s been more emerald green.”
“Well, you can’t go around answering questions like that and not expect me to have a follow up.”
“Rapid fire, remember?” Erica teased.
“We should amend the rules. Answers require an explanation.”
“Fine.”
“Why the change?”
“You.”
Julius paused again, a burning look in his eyes like he wanted her to explain. But she was already asking a question of her own. “Favorite holiday?”
“New Year’s. New beginnings for new things. Ever have a pet?”
“A chow chow named Dave. You?”
“A Yorkie named Pudding, until my father found it and made me put him down.”
Erica gasped at the horror.
Julius shrugged it off as if it were no big deal. “I had a rough upbringing.”
“I thought you said you came from a powerful family?”
“I do. We never wanted for anything, but that didn’t mean we had everything. Love and gentleness were often lacking in my father’s house. Our mother did dote on us when he wasn’t looking.”
“You have siblings?”
“I do. Six.”
“There are seven of you?”
“That’s right. You mentioned you were an only child.”
Erica shook her head, unable to fathom that many kids around as a child. “What was it like?”
“Chaos. What’s your idea of the best date?”
“Looking for ideas?”
“Maybe.”
“Is it too cliché to say a paint night or go on a midnigh
t paint run? You?”
“It’s not. And, I’m not particular about the date as long as it ends with a pleasurable evening in bed.”
Erica playfully rolled her eyes. “You’re a dirtbag.”
“Excuse me, but I’m an honest dirtbag, thank you very much.”
Erica laughed. Julius had to be the easiest person she’d ever talked to. When he laughed and poked fun at her, it felt as if they’d been the best of friends their entire life. There was a genuine person underneath all that bravado.
He was also interesting, that was for sure. Even more so after he finished telling her about his travels through Europe and how he practically had a bar brawl in each country he stopped in along the way. According to him, fist fights seemed to find him.
He yawned right after she did. “It’s getting late.”
When Erica glanced at the clock on her microwave, her eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. “Wow, I hadn’t realized it was three in the morning.”
“I should get going.”
“I get that vampires are creatures of the night and all, but you don’t want to walk around in this neighborhood alone until sunrise.”
“Are you saying I can spend the night with you?”
“On the couch.”
“Good, we get to sleep together after all.” His hopeful gaze was punctuated by him taking off his shoes and peeling off his suit jacket.
She eyed him when he went for his belt. “With our clothes on.”
“I will tell you, Erica, this has been the most enjoyable date I’ve had in years.”
“This was not a date,” Erica said with a laugh.
Julius shrugged. “It’s ending with a pleasurable night in bed, so it qualifies.”
“Even fully clothed?”
“We have to start somewhere. First on the couch, next in a bed. First clothed, next… unclothed.”
“We have very different ideas of what a date is,” she replied, trying to quell the fluttering in her chest, picturing the man in front of her without his clothes on.
He shrugged as if to say ‘semantics,’ then patted the broken leather of his couch. “Are you getting in?”
She definitely couldn’t trust herself to lie down so close to him right now. Even sleepy, the man was walking sex on a stick. If he so much as breathed on her, she’d probably jump his bones.
Love Bitten (Vampire Blood Royals Book 1) Page 6
