Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,17
never come so close to blowing her cover. Yet something about his intensity, his persistence, his very existence made her want to push past every boundary, to unlatch every safety mechanism, to risk it all.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” the man said.
Charley wondered how much longer he’d play along—how much longer she could string him along until he finally turned her over to the security guard.
Or worse—the police.
God, she hated herself in this moment, but if she didn’t make a move—the only move she had left—this could become a bona fide, five-alarm emergency worse than any punishment Rudy could ever dish out.
She cringed to think what Sasha’s feminist theory textbooks would say about this scenario—about her whole life, really—but fuck it, survival instinct was a hell of a drug. And right now, Charley was hooked.
Use what you’ve got, girl.
Hoping she’d read his earlier signals right, Charley placed her hand against his broad, firm chest, letting her fingertips brush the exposed skin beneath his collarbone, grateful he’d left the top button undone.
His breath hitched, pupils dilating a fraction.
They were tiny tells, almost imperceptible behind the facade of his teasing, but all the confirmation she needed.
This man was totally turned on.
A seductive smile slid across her face, and she stretched up on her toes, bringing her lips close to his ear. “Can you keep another secret?”
Chapter Seven
“I’ll keep all your secrets, love.” Dorian covered the woman’s delicate fingers, holding her hand firmly against his chest. “Though I strongly caution you against deceiving me.”
She gazed up at him through dark, feathery lashes and bit her lower lip, likely buying more time to invent her excuse. The woman was no louse in the fine art of seduction, and she was clearly up to no good. But what kind of no good, Dorian could only speculate. Robbery was top of mind, but if that were the case, she had very few options for hiding her treasure; that hot little dress was definitely not made for smuggling.
“I have reason to believe the family is on the verge of bankruptcy,” she finally said. “I heard they might consider offers for pieces not officially on the block.”
Dorian laughed. “Considering what I paid for that painting, it’s likely they’re back in the black.”
“Three million dollars? Doubtful. That’s a drop in the bucket for these people.”
“These people?” He raised an eyebrow, gaze sweeping up from her designer shoes to the tasteful but nevertheless authentic diamonds studding her earlobes. The woman even smelled rich—a combination of scents so firmly embedded in his mind it would follow him through eternity.
Who did she think she was fooling?
“I just meant…” She closed her mouth and pulled away from his grasp, doing her best to mask her irritation. When she spoke again, her voice had softened considerably. “It’s a terrible situation. They have a lot of debt. The penthouse is in foreclosure. They’re actually moving overseas.”
Trading gossip about other people’s misfortunes was beneath him, but he suspected her theory was true. He’d been gouged on the painting, but they would’ve settled for a lot less if she and Duchanes hadn’t run up the bidding.
“I fail to see what their financial situation has to do with your sneaking around.”
“It has everything to do with it,” she snapped, her cheeks blushing with frustration and more than a little arousal. “But nothing to do with you. So if you don’t mind, please show yourself out.”
“You expect me to turn my back on a potential crime in progress?”
“I expect you to… Look, I totally appreciate the earlier save. Who knows what that creep would’ve done if you hadn’t ridden in on your white horse? And thanks for the drinks, and the fun conversation, and…” She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, shaking her head as if she were having an argument with her own mind.
Dorian wasn’t sure who won, but when she looked at him again, her eyes blazed with fresh anger.
“But seriously,” she said. “It doesn’t concern you.”
“I see.” Dorian offered a wry smile. Trouble or not, her feistiness turned him on beyond reason. The attitude, the taser, the spark of disobedience in her eyes…
You need to be tied up and spanked, little prowler.
Blood and power hummed through his veins, the image of his handprint on her bare flesh igniting a different sort of hunger inside.
This long into an immortal life, there were few things Dorian still enjoyed. The company of a beautiful woman was, on occasion, one