Page 11 of Sold to the Mogul
The rush of excitement I felt earlier seeps out of me, and I stiffen in Roman’s arms, feeling guilty. I can’t believe that for a while I totally forgot the reason I went to the chapel in the first place. Tears of frustration well up in my eyes.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Roman asks in a concerned tone, shifting his head from beneath mine and cupping my jaw.
I muster a smile, but it’s melancholic as I say, “It’s nothing. The painting just reminds me of my late dad.”
“Oh, I’m sorry you lost him. He was a painter too?” he asks in a low tone.
I sigh softly. “Yes, he’s a popular artist. His name is Warren Flint, but everyone in the art world knows him as Donovan,” I explain. I look up to see Roman’s eyes flare with shock and recognition. “You’ve heard of him?” I ask.
Roman nods, seeming to school his expression. “I’ve seen his work, yes,” he answers. Then he asks, “Is that the reason you were at the auction house yesterday?”
“Yes,” I say, then turn to face him with furrowed brows. “I know you’ve heard the news about my father killing himself. Well, I don’t believe he would ever do that. He had a lot to live for, and he was looking forward to his retirement. He had no reason to be suicidal. I suspected foul play since one of his last pieces was missing, but with no evidence, the police ruled it out. And I’d almost given up on ever getting justice when an intruder broke into his studio. I searched the room after that, and found the access card to the chapel. And well…you know what happened after that.”
“What you did was very risky,” Roman says in a chiding tone. “What if it had turned out differently for you?”
“I know, but I couldn’t just sit at home. I had to do something.”
“Alright. But no more investigating on your own,” he says. “I know a very good private investigator—I’ll hire him to find out more about your dad’s death.”
I nod softly, feeling a weightlifting off my shoulders. “Thank you,” I say. Then a thought strikes me. “I need to ask another favor from you.”
“What is it, baby?”
“I went to the auction house with my dad’s truck, and I don’t know if you can find a way to get it out of there?”
“I can do that,” he answers, then eyes me, his eyes flaring with want. “Now, kiss me,” he orders.
Chapter Six
Roman
I can’t fucking believe this…
Bella is Bella Flint, Warren’s daughter.
My friend’s little girl. He used to send me photos of her, though more often photos of the childish art she made while growing up. He was so proud of her when she decided to study art history. It had been a while since I’d received an update on her, and many years since I saw a photo of her. I had no idea.
Oh fuck.
But as she closes her soft lips over mine, my thoughts evaporate and I push my worries aside, savoring the taste of her. I slide one hand into her hair and the other around her waist, holding her close. Her lips move tentatively over mine as if searching and teasing, her hands clutching my shoulders. I nip at her lower lip and gently suck it into my mouth, teasing out a moan. She deepens the kiss, sliding her tongue against mine in an erotic dance.
My hard cock weeps in my shorts as she unconsciously grinds over it, her hands caressing my chest and back. The need to slide into her warm heat fills me, causing my cock to jerk. My breath trembles as I break the kiss, striving for control. My hands frame the back of her head and I draw her close, pressing my forehead against hers, our chests softly heaving from the thorough kiss.
“You’re sore, baby. We can’t do anything,” I whisper, trying to remind myself why I can’t fuck her right now.
“Okay,” she replies, her lips against mine.
I pull my head back, taking in her dilated eyes and swollen lips. “You’re so tempting,” I say, leaning in to kiss her lips, and then I stand, pulling her up with me as she giggles in response.
For a few seconds, I stare at her laughing gaze, mesmerized by her. I don’t know how this happened, but I don’t think I can ever imagine being without her. The overwhelming emotion fills me, and I remember again that she’s Warren’s daughter.
What the hell am I doing?
“Are you alright?” Bella asks, her gaze softening with concern as she takes in my rigid stance and the subtle tightening of my arms around her waist.
“I’m fine. I just remembered some work I need to finish up. I might have to be in my home office for a few minutes,” I say, feeling guilty.
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m going to have a bath while you do that,” she says with a warm smile.
