Untrue Colors (Entangled Select Suspense) (15 page)

“I hope so, but you look so hot in those jeans. I’m hesitant to take them off.”

Henry chuckled and stripped Alex of her one remaining clothing item, and then he sat on the bed waiting for her next move. She loved how he gave her control when she needed it. She felt stronger and less vulnerable with him than with anyone else.

When she finished removing his clothes, his erection demanded attention. She hesitated, and then knelt in front of him. From the heated look in his eyes, her gift was unexpected, but appreciated. She licked him from base to tip and then took his entire length in her mouth.

“You don’t have to do this,” he moaned.

Releasing him from her throat, she peered up at him. A slight smile curved her mouth. “Should I stop?”

His breathing was getting ragged. “I don’t want you to, but if you’re not comfortable—”

“I want to.” After giving him a smile that told him not to argue, she returned to her exquisite form of torture.

Her hands slid up his legs, and she caressed him with feather-soft touches. Sex was amazing with the right person—empowering, comforting, exhilarating. And dominance could shift from one partner to the other at any time. His long aristocratic fingers wove through her hair and held her close. Not controlling, but comforting, encouraging. And she drew him in further and massaged him with her lips and her tongue from the base to the tip and back again. His low moan encouraged her to go deeper. He dropped his hands to her breasts, stroking her, motivating her, and leading her further into her own arousal and sexual satisfaction.

He pulled her up onto his lap and kissed her until she melted into a state of helpless surrender.

“I need you, Sunshine.” His voice strained between heavy breaths and long kisses.

“I need you, too.” And she did. She needed the strength, and his acceptance of her flaws and imperfections, and she needed him physically in her and near her and by her side.

They tumbled back onto the bed, and she rolled onto her back. He pushed off her and returned with a condom. He hesitated before sitting next to her and brushed his fingers through her hair.

“Nervous?” she asked.

“Terrified. You’re tying my heart into knots. Be gentle with me.” He kissed her on the lips with such sweet intentions, tears formed in her eyes.

“Relax, Lord Henry. I promise not to hurt you.”

He grinned at her comment with the confidence of a man born to wealth and power. And yet he didn’t scare her at all, not like Luc had. Henry somehow uncovered all of her weaknesses and twisted them into strengths. He gave her a quick kiss, and then they fumbled with the condom until any remaining awkwardness floated away with their laughter. His touch changed this once-brutal position into something tender and empowering. She felt both completely controlled and completely in control.

His lips grazed under her ear, and his moans reverberated into the deepest regions of her chest. The sensations shot lightning bolts of hot electricity through her system and sent her over the edge and into oblivion.

Chapter Nineteen

Henry had spent the entire afternoon intoxicated on Gabe’s unique brand of sensuality. Her previous inhibitions created by a lowlife seemed to have evaporated. Playful, sexy, and adventurous in and out of bed, Gabe could satisfy a man for a lifetime. By the time they finally moved to the large bathtub to play some more and prepare for the auction, Henry’s time with Gabe had permanently altered his heart. No one would take her place. Another woman could fill certain roles in his life, but this intelligent, gorgeous seductress had managed to wipe out the competition and make him unable to consider anyone else in her place.

Reluctant to separate, they forced themselves to prepare for the night’s big event, finding Lady Elizabeth. Henry wore his tuxedo. The gun Simon sent to him was secure in a holster at his waist. He didn’t want trouble, but he’d protect Gabe from any threats that came her way. No matter what.

Gabe donned a shimmering gold gown. Her short brown hair, which must be close to her natural color, fell over one of Danielle’s beguiling green eyes. This woman didn’t look anything like Simon’s date in Edinburgh. He hoped. Despite Gabe’s penchant for bacon and high-fat breakfasts, her body showed not the slightest bit of extra body fat. A lean warrior with the face of a fairy, she bewitched him.

She strode over to him and straightened his bow tie, which didn’t need straightening. Henry had been wearing tuxedos all his life and would never create a crooked tie. Her proximity was a wonderful excuse to smooth down the lines of her dress, which didn’t need smoothing. His hands glided over the silky material. He felt nothing underneath her dress from the bodice to the top of her thighs. Too bad they were late. He’d never get his fill of her.

They hired a car to drive them to the Mandarin Oriental exactly two blocks away from the W. The invitees to this soiree would never walk the streets to their destination.

A uniformed doorman helped Gabe out of the car. Henry tipped the driver and told him to return when he received a text. They may wish to depart in thirty minutes or be gone all night. Hopefully, the former.

“Ready?” Gabe wrapped her arm around his.

Henry clasped her elbow and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Absolutely. The gallery is on the forty-fifth floor. This card will gain us entry.” He showed her a business card that had one word on it, “Lakshmi
.
”

“Hindu goddess of wealth. Very appropriate,” Gabe stated.

“How did you know that?” He’d always believed himself to be highly intelligent, but Alex’s depth of knowledge eclipsed everything he’d learned in a lifetime of university classes and reading books.

“Henry, information is readily available on the internet. I could have Googled it.”

“If you had access to my computer, or you saw the card before this minute, I would believe you.”

She sighed. “Doesn’t everyone know goddesses and gods?”

“Maybe Greek and Roman mythology, not necessarily Hindu.”

She shrugged her shoulders as though it was no big deal that she’d amassed so much information in that pretty head of hers.

Another uniformed guard asked their destination.

“Floor forty-five.” Henry handed the man the card and was led to a private lift.

Once inside, he pressed up against her and drank in her enthusiastic response. Their kiss lasted forty-four floors. Hopefully, they’d find the painting tonight, so he could channel all of his energy into keeping her by his side for longer than three weeks.

When the doors opened, they stepped out into a huge foyer decorated with large vases of orange, yellow, and red roses. Henry handed Gabe a champagne flute, and they meandered around the gallery looking at the art. She perused a few of the works for sale, keeping her expression neutral. The displayed, mostly stolen, pieces of art all had good provenance, ownership papers obtained by skirting the law, so legitimate buyers wandered the rooms with confidence in their potential purchases. Most of the buyers had no idea they were walking through the gray market for art. The more knowledgeable collectors understood that sculptures and paintings were never priced this low in the real world, but they didn’t care about the art’s origins. They looked at it as an investment. Not one work of art in this gallery had the cachet of the stolen masterpieces they’d viewed in Edinburgh, allowing buyers to display them without fear of prosecution.

“What do you think of this one?” Henry pointed to a painting called
Woman With a Pigeon
.

“I don’t think your clients will like it. It’s too dark.” Which meant, she wouldn’t buy it.

She took a tentative sip of the champagne and glanced around with a vapid expression directed at the people more than the art. Henry could sense her mind taking in information from the pretty boys showing off for their dates to the crowds forming around certain works of art and not others. Although Gabe had been sipping her champagne for thirty minutes, the liquid remained near the same level. Smart woman.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“No. I’m more partial to romanticism. It sounds prettier.” She giggled as though her whole purpose was to please the man in her life. As fascinating a prospect as that was, he loved standing beside a genius. He’d prefer to have a companion by his side who would challenge him, not just decorate him. Perhaps he’d have the opportunity to accompany Gabe to a museum after all of this subterfuge to listen to her unrestrained opinion of the art around her.

They continued to chat about the many paintings, icons, and statues that surrounded them. Her eyes revealed a nuanced understanding of every work of art in the room, but she divulged only a mere hint of her intelligence. Turning the corner into one of the many secondary spaces, Henry stalled in front of the other woman in his life, Lady Elizabeth Gillett. He bit back the grin threatening to emerge as the weight of losing her lifted up and left him practically hovering off the ground. Larger than most of the art offered for sale, she had a new gilded frame, but otherwise appeared exactly as she had been before being replaced by the new version.

“She’s beautiful.” The clouds in Gabe’s eyes dissipated as the discerning art appraiser analyzed Henry’s most precious asset. “The frame appears in good condition, but the other one is authentic, so I’d probably return it to the original.” Her voice stayed low, beneath the hearing range of the others in the room.

“I agree,” Henry whispered in her ear. He couldn’t resist nuzzling her neck while he was there. He had the woman of his dreams next to him and Lady Elizabeth in front of him. Life was near perfect.

Alex stared up at the painting and then turned back to him. “The colors in her face and in the background are more suitable to the time period. Her eyes have a softer sheen and the entire picture encapsulates the movement of her balancing on the horse. In my opinion, this is one of Lawrence’s finest pieces. If…no,
when
you buy it, leave it up in Ripon. She’ll grace the halls of that old castle, displaying something amazing for the women and children to enjoy.”

A few others gathered in front of the painting to view it. Gabe moved closer to his side, but Henry acted bored with his date and his painting. Being possessive of anything in this room could lead to trouble. He only had so much money to fend off competitors.

“There’s nothing here worth buying. Can we find some food?” Gabe asked.

“Maybe there’s something in the next room.” Henry led her away from their potential competitors and perused several more items.

A gentleman in a very expensive suit strolled over to them. He held out his hand to Henry. “Richard Quinn.”

Simon had mentioned that Mr. Quinn was a part owner of the gallery and might introduce himself.

“Colin Fisher.”

“Nice to meet you.” He turned his attention to Gabe. “Enjoying yourselves?”

“Yes. This is the best champagne I’ve had in forever.” Gabe lifted her glass in a toast and took a sip.

Richard smiled at her, approving of her comment and her appearance. She had to be careful. She didn’t realize the potent reaction her flirtations were causing with the men around her. For someone who didn’t wish to be noticed, she created a stunning vision in gold.

Richard waved over a server to provide Gabe with another glass. “I’m glad you approve.” He turned to Henry. “Mr. Fisher, have you found anything you wish to take home for your clients?”

Henry gave him a slow nod. “Perhaps. What time will the lot in room eight be auctioned?”

“We’re planning on having those five paintings and the two statues moved to the main gallery in about half an hour. Are you interested in anything in particular?”

“The statue by Edvard Eriksen, the Emile Claus painting, and perhaps the portrait by Thomas Lawrence.”

“Good choices. We look forward to seeing your bids.” He nodded to them and walked away.

Henry placed an arm around Gabe’s waist to protect her from the onslaught of admirers. The muscles in her arm stiffened. He glanced in the direction of her gaze. A group of unknown men stood by the bar discussing something serious.

“Colin, do you mind if I run to the restroom?” she whispered in his ear.

“By all means, go. I’ll wait here.”

Instead of turning away, the golden goddess embraced him. Her arms encircled his shoulders, floated down his arms, and rested on his waist. The woman was pure sexual energy. Her hand brushed over the gun, but he shifted her away from it. He didn’t need her accidentally discharging it.

Nuzzling her lips against his neck, she molded her body into his. He tried not to physically react, but she raised his temperature just being in his line of sight. When she touched him, he became insane with the need to scoop her up and rush her back to the hotel.

Not yet.

First, they needed the painting. She brushed her lips over his mouth and then ended the kiss with a sigh. As she walked away, her hips swayed with an invitation to Henry for later.

…

Alex didn’t want to run away, but what choice did she have? When her eyes locked onto Luc, standing in the corner of the gallery speaking to a bunch of men, including Brian Fouchet, she knew her fairy tale had ended. Henry didn’t deserve to be caught in her nightmare. After everything he’d given to her including a piece of his heart, she needed to protect him as well as her family. And now that he’d found the painting, the Ripon Women’s Group would thrive.

Luc stood out in a crowd of wannabes with his jet-black hair, dark eyes, and a scruffy elegance that women lusted after and men envied.

Did he see me?

Even if he hadn’t, she needed to get out of there. She clasped her hands together to keep the tremors from being too evident and forced her legs to walk in a confident, quick step.

The ladies’ restroom was near the elevator. She could hide in there for a few minutes and take the next available car down. Her only choice. Henry’s gun had been her best means of killing Luc, but he’d pushed her hand away from it, probably thinking he was protecting her. But she was kidding herself; she didn’t have had the guts to kill Luc in cold blood.

At least she’d left Henry behind. Her heart, however, deflated in her chest as she stepped through the crowd farther and farther away from the only person outside of her family she’d willingly die for. Wearing a plastic smile, she wandered between small groups of men and women and arrived in the foyer. Some of her tension lifted as the restroom came into view.

“Alexandra Northrop, as I live and breathe,” the female voice rang out, sounding cloyingly familiar.

Alex ignored it and tried to continue forward. A woman’s hand grasped her elbow.
Crap
. She gazed over her shoulder, trying to keep her face as covered as possible. “I think you have the wrong person.”

“No, I don’t. We went to the Winsor School together. Holly Knight. Remember? You were on academic probation eight times during one year. It was a school record.”

Holly Knight was the bitchy daughter of an oil commodity brokerage firm executive. No surprise she’d buy stolen art at discount prices. The pieces would probably be donated to a museum for a juicy tax write-off. Dishonest to the end. Alex had hated watching Holly and her friends torment many of the less fortunate students. They stayed away from Alex because her father’s power and her mother’s social connections had few rivals.

Perhaps if she acknowledged Holly, she could get out quicker. “Holly? What a surprise. What have you been up to all these years?” She kept her voice low and her actions subtle.

“I’ve done it all. In fact, I married one of Ted Turner’s right hand men, Sam Porter. We have a beautiful son and an amazing property in Palm Beach. I have to introduce you to Sam. Are you married?”

“No. Not so lucky.”

“You’ll find someone. You’re adorable. How are your parents? Still have that gorgeous house on Martha’s Vineyard? You were the envy of everyone when the Kennedy boys decided to crash your sixteenth birthday. What a group of hunky guys. Remember?”

“Fun times. Are you staying for the auction? I’d love to catch up, but I need a minute in the ladies’ room.”

“Absolutely. I’ll be with Sam by the blue boxy painting two rooms over.”

“The one by Georges Braque?”

“Yes, that one.” The style was cubism, not boxy. Holly may have inherited a trust fund, but she’d never acquired the brains to go along with her wealth.

“See you soon.” Alex waved and started toward the bathroom.

Three steps away from Holly, she saw Luc coming toward her. Like a predator stalking his prey into a corner, all of his attention focused on her. He had to have heard her conversation.
Shit.

He strode with a confidence that had once controlled Alex’s thoughts and actions. His eyes penetrated her calm facade, and a tsunami of terror almost knocked her off her feet.

A crowd of thirty people separated her from him. He was closing the gap. The doorman would never let her pass now, especially if Luc told him to detain her. Pushing off panic, she searched for another way out.

One chance. That’s all she had. Throngs of people crowded into the foyer waiting as the gallery staff brought two new groups of auction items into the next room. The chaos of the crowd and the servers and the men moving the art seemed like an accident waiting to happen. When she brushed against one of the waitresses carrying the trays of champagne, a plan formed in her mind.