“How’d it go?”Sante asks when I return home. He’s on his laptop in the living room by himself, and the place is quiet.
“I won’t know until I ask her some questions, but it’s not looking good.” I speak quietly since I’m not sure where she is. “The girls in her bedroom?”
“Amelie’s gone. One of the others picked her up to go see Pippa and the twins in the hospital. She had them early this morning.” Sante closes the laptop screen and stands. “Good luck, man. And call me later. I want to know what’s happening.”
He lets himself out, and I go in search of the little thief. Her bedroom door is open, allowing me to watch her for a moment before she notices my presence. She’s sitting on the bed with her knees up, supporting her tablet while she holds a pen to the screen. Her hair is piled in a messy clump on her head, stray tendrils lending her an innocence that I fear she doesn’t deserve.
Maybe not, but there’s no denying her beauty. Something about the white sheets around her makes me think of a Grecian goddess—like she should have a lyre in her hands rather than a computer. It doesn’t seem right that she should be so disarming yet so deceitful at the same time.
I could get the truth from her. I wouldn’t enjoy it, but I could do it. Everyone caves eventually with the proper motivation.
I set that thought aside and walk to the bedside to see what she’s working on.
“Oh! I didn’t realize you were back.”
I ignore her comment and motion for her to hand over the device. I can already see the image, but it’s so unexpectedly poignant that I need to take a closer look.
“You did this?”
“Yes, I’ve been working on it for a few weeks.”
Her gift is exceptional. And I appreciate the realism of the piece. Everything she’s depicted is drawn in perfect detail so there can be no question about what it is. A city street so busy with detail I can feel the energy, every bit in black and white save for a small brown teddy bear abandoned on the curb. The most striking part of all is the sadness it elicits without even knowing why. She’s making some sort of statement. As usual, I’m clueless, but I don’t have to understand the specific message to be affected by it. Such loneliness and despair—sentiments I know well.
“That’s impressive.”
“Thank you. I—”
“Stand up,” I interrupt, dropping the tablet on the bed.
She follows my orders despite the worry that creases her brow. Her gaze drifts to my right hand and the bloody knuckles she likely noticed when I took the tablet from her.
“You make people see what you want them to see when they look at your artwork. Does that gift extend to other aspects of your life?”
“What do you mean?” Her attempt to scoot backward is thwarted by the nightstand. “What’s this about? You’re scaring me, Tommy.”
It’s the first time she’s spoken my name. I hate how perfect it sounds on her lips. Her lying, deceitful lips.
I bring my hand to her throat, slowly wrapping my fingers around her. “I spoke with a Russian man today. A man who knows Biba well.”
Her face blanches, and I could swear she sways in my hold. “Please, stop,” she whispers, sparking my fury.
“No,youstop. Stop fucking lying andtell me the truth.” I need to know what’s really going on, and I need her to trust me. I know this isn’t the way to gain that trust, but fuck if I know how else to do it.
“I told you—” Again, I cut her off, but this time it’s with a kiss.
No, not a kiss.
There’s nothing romantic about my desperation. My demands. I use my lips to beg in the only way I know how. I devour her. I worship and plead and rage with the sweep of my tongue and the graze of my teeth. I give her a window into the crippling desire I feel for her—an admission I do not take lightly—in the hope that she might allow me past her defenses. Because if she doesn’t find a way to trust me, the consequences may kill us both.
CHAPTER 10
DANIKA
Tommy’s kissis brutally savage yet infinitely tender because while his mouth claims me, the hand he keeps wrapped around my throat stays perfectly still, not once threatening to harm me. The duality is intoxicating. The cuff around my throat a kindness, coupled with a kiss meant to consume.
It’s a hypnotic storm I’m helpless to resist.
I’ve never been a part of an exchange of such intense emotions with another person—not like this. I swear I can see down into the black velvet cave of Tommy’s soul, and it’s filled with sparkling diamonds. The beauty is breathtaking, and I never want to leave.
