Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,43
done, and the verdict was in.
She was as happy to see him as he’d been to see her.
“Hello, Charlotte,” he said warmly.
“Hi to you, too, Mr. Redthorne.”
The sound of his name on her lips stirred his cock, and something inside his chest lurched sideways. The momentary confusion must have shown on his face, because Charlotte offered a smile and said, “Apparently my boss recognized you last night. I didn’t know you were famous.”
“Not quite. But I am curious.”
“About?”
“Come with me.” He led her into a secluded alcove behind the membership desk, desperate to get her alone. It wasn’t exactly private, but Dorian didn’t hesitate to pull her close, dragging his nose up the elegant slope of her neck, inhaling her scent.
“Are you following me, love?” He teased her skin with his lips, leaving a trail of light, fluttery kisses up to her ear. She was so warm and soft, every inch of her begging for his touch.
She smells so fucking good…
“This is…” She trailed off, her eyelids fluttering closed.
“One hell of a coincidence? Also, not too terrible for a Monday.”
She sighed in his arms, but the momentary excitement of their reunion was already fading. He could feel it in the tension of her muscles, see it in the determined set of her jaw as she pulled away from his kisses.
Charlotte cleared her throat and put a hand on his chest, holding him at arm’s length. “This is really not a good idea.”
Liar.
Dorian, who never backed down from a conquest, took a step backward to give her space.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d planned on donating the Whitfield?” she asked.
“It was supposed to be anonymous. And as I recall, you didn’t even want to know my name.”
“I was just surprised to hear about the donation, especially after what you paid for it. It seemed like you really wanted the painting.”
“I did.”
“Just to give it away?”
He shrugged. “That painting never should’ve ended up on the private market. It’s a cultural treasure, and it needed to be returned.”
She considered his words, her brow furrowed.
“You don’t believe me,” he said, the taste of his own lies burning his throat.
She was right to distrust him. Dorian had his reasons for doing what he did, but altruism certainly wasn’t one of them. Atonement came close, but even that word couldn’t encompass the true depth of his motives, nor illuminate the darkness that lived within them.
She adjusted the handbag draped over her shoulder, catching the neckline of her blouse and revealing the pink, lacy edge of her bra. “Most guys wouldn’t give up a trophy like that. Especially without taking credit for it.”
“Is it so hard to believe I’m a nice chap?”
Charlotte laughed—a sound Dorian wasn’t ready to walk away from again. He wanted to hear it in the morning, coming from his shower. In the evening, coming from his bed. At all hours of the night, echoing off the walls of his game room and study and kitchen…
“I don’t know any chaps that nice,” she said.
He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them again. “That doesn’t mean we don’t exist.”
“Even though you’re totally staring at my tits?”
“What can I say? I’m a nice chap who happens to love your tits. Especially with that pink lace number you’ve got going on here.” He traced a line down the center of her breast, her nipple hardening in the wake of his touch.
Charlotte smiled again, a look that felt more like an invitation than a goodbye, but then her eyes darkened, and she pulled her blouse back into place. “I… I should go. It was lovely seeing you again, Mr. Redthorne.”
“Dorian. And just a moment, little prowler.” He grabbed her hand, hoping it was enough to keep her here, at least for a few more seconds. “Is that really why you’re here? To find out what I did with my painting?”
“I’d heard a rumor it was being donated. So yes, I came down to confirm.”
“You came all the way down here,” he said, running his thumb along the palm of her hand, “for something that could’ve been confirmed with a phone call? I don’t think so.”
A blush crept across the woman’s exposed neck and cheeks, setting her copper eyes in sharp contrast. “Enlighten me with your theory, then.”
“I think,” he said, bringing his lips to her ear again and lowering his voice, “you were hoping to run into me.”
“Why would I want to run into you?”
“Unfinished business.”
When she didn’t deny it, Dorian released her hand and