The Sinful Art of Revenge Page 2

  After making sure they hadn’t broken a priceless heirloom, she signed the cheque, thanked and dismissed the catering crew.

  Slowly retracing her steps, she carefully altered her walk to adjust to the pain shooting through her hips and pelvis. She’d been on her feet for too long in heels far too uncomfortable for her injuries. But, as much as she wanted to trudge her weary body upstairs, stretch through her painful exercises before showering for bed, she couldn’t give in.

  She had to deal with the ex-lover who prowled like a dangerous jungle animal beside her. Straightening her spine, she led him to the living room.

  ‘Right, are you going to resume your ogre impression?’ She glanced over at him and caught the edge of bleakness that shot across his face.

  He gave a grim smile. ‘I’d like to return to London tonight, so I’ll get to the point. My grandfather disposed of a collection of three paintings four years ago, shortly after my grandmother died. I believe you know something about them?’

  Her chest tightened. ‘Maybe.’

  His jaw tightened so hard and for so long she feared it would crack. Then he sighed, and she caught the edge of weariness in the sound. ‘Don’t play games with me, Reiko. I know you were the broker.’

  ‘But games are what we do best—aren’t they, Daniel? Pretending to be one thing when we’re something else?’

  He shoved a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I was surprised when your grandfather didn’t recognise me—’

  ‘He had other things on his mind, like trying to stop you from taking everything away from him.’

  Damion nodded. ‘Once I realised that, I thought it would be better if he didn’t know.’

  ‘And what about me? We were together for six weeks. You could’ve come clean at any time. You chose not to.’ Because she hadn’t been important enough—hadn’t been worthy of his honesty even after he’d taken her to his bed.

  He inhaled sharply. ‘Don’t over-dramatise what happened between us, Reiko. If I recall, you were surprisingly easy to get rid of. But then you had incentive, didn’t you?’

  ‘If you’re talking about the money—’

  ‘The money and the lover who replaced me before the bed was cold!’

  His teeth visibly clenched over the words and a flash of ice washed over her.

  Amid the dark panic and unwanted feelings flooding her, shame threaded its way through. It was no use telling herself she had nothing to be ashamed of. She’d let herself down, and it was yet another thing the demons never let her forget.

  As she watched, Damion reined his emotions in. But even from across the room she could feel the pulse of his anger and contempt.

  ‘Now that we’ve relived fond memories, let’s move on, shall we?’ he said. ‘I’ve retrieved the Femme de la Voile. I haven’t been able to trace the Femme en Mer or the Femme sur Plage. It’s imperative that I find them both, but Sur Plage is the one I want found soonest.’

  She forced herself back to the present. ‘You want the Femme en Mer, too?’ she murmured. ‘I thought—’

  ‘You thought what?’

  Somehow she’d expected Damion Fortier would want to reclaim the largest, most spectacular of the three paintings, not the smallest, the one only a handful of people had been allowed to see in its fifty years in existence.

  ‘Never mind. Why do you want them back?’

  He shoved a hand deep into one trouser pocket, a look passing through his eyes that intrigued her.

  ‘That is not your concern.’

  He didn’t know how wrong he was. ‘But it is. You want it for your VIP-only exhibition at Gallerie Fortier in Paris next week. That’s why you’ve been hunting the paintings these past months, isn’t it?’

  He stilled. ‘Only six people are aware of my exhibition. The invitations haven’t even gone out yet. How did you come by this information?’

  Reiko shrugged. ‘I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you. And all that blood would ruin my dress. Pointless, really.’

  He sucked in an inflamed breath, then moved so quickly and silently she barely had time to register his intention before he’d caught her shoulders in a firm grip. ‘Who told you about the exhibition?’ he demanded.

  She held her ground, despite the fire burning through her veins. ‘You don’t have to worry that I’ll leak the information. I never reveal my sources. In my line of business it’s suicide.’

  ‘It’ll be first degree murder if you don’t tell me.’

  Reiko held very still, acutely aware that if his left hand dropped one inch lower he’d feel the rough edge of the scar on her arm. ‘Wouldn’t murder taint your precious family history? Did you know there’s a blog dedicated to tracing and recording every good deed your family has performed in the last five hundred years? If it’s to be believed, no Fortier has so much as stolen a sip of water throughout your glorious generations. Now here you are, threatening murder. Aren’t you afraid your ancestors will return to haunt you if you break tradition?’

  His grip tightened. ‘I’m prepared to make an exception this once.’

  The rigidity in his body, the cold bite of anger in his voice made her think he probably would, too.

  ‘Ah, but with me dead you’d never see your precious paintings again.’

  A frown gradually darkened his face as his eyes bored into hers. ‘I don’t remember you being this bitter or twisted five years ago. What the hell has happened to you?’

  The observation, coming out of nowhere, sent a thunderbolt of panic coursing through her.

  What the hell has happened to you?

  Only Trevor and her mother knew what had happened. Trevor would never betray her trust, and her mother was too self-centred to dwell for too long on her daughter’s emotional state.

  With a forceful wrench, she freed herself from Damion’s grasp and gathered every last ounce of willpower to cling to the outward composure she’d battled so damned hard for this past year. The demons she battled in private were another matter.

  After taking a few control-installing breaths, she faced him.

  ‘I’m no longer the wide-eyed, gullible puppy you knew five years ago, Baron. So if you’ve come here hoping I’ll happily wag my tail and pant with yearning for you, you’re sorely mistaken.’

  Damion stared into her perfectly made-up face. Two emotions—surprise and an unacceptable degree of surrealism—twisted through him. His gaze dropped to her lips, to the tiny dark mole above her upper lip. For a single uncontrolled moment he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss her or to shake her—another alien concept that added to the absurdity of the situation.

  The Reiko he’d known five years ago would have seen her effect on him. She’d have smiled the smile of a shameless temptress then proceeded to taunt him with her body, confident of the inevitable outcome.

  This Reiko stared stonily back at him, her gaze dark and hostile, as if she were counting the minutes until he removed himself from her presence.

  Damion wasn’t prepared for the hollow feeling the observation left inside him.

  ‘I never thought of you as a puppy. Feline and exceptionally cunning with it is a far more accurate description. Knowing what I do about your shady dealings, I suspect that trait has come in handy in your profession.’

  ‘There’s nothing underhand about what I do—’

  ‘What about your penchant for handling stolen goods? Goods that more often than not disappear before the authorities are notified of their whereabouts?’

  Her pert nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read in your fancy art journals.’

  ‘My sources are completely trustworthy.’

  ‘If they were, you wouldn’t have wasted your time coming here today. They’d have told you I’m no longer actively involved in the art-retrieval business. I haven’t been for the past eighteen months.’

  Her brittle tone, the way she hugged her elbows and held herself rigidly, told him there was something more going on here. But wearine
ss dug behind his eyes, bit into his soul, dulled his senses.

  For a single heartbeat Damion contemplated walking away, finding another way to appease his grandfather. The thought dissolved before it was fully formed.

  Fortier curse or not, he would honour his grandfather’s wish—even if it meant dallying with the woman who stared at him with eyes that dared and detested him at the same time. A woman who’d proved herself as faithless as his mother and grandmother.

  He gritted his teeth as a flash of guilt seared his mind.

  He was here today because he’d walked away from his family, from his duty, for a whole year. In his attempt to escape the stark reality of the obsessive compulsion that dogged his family, he’d walked straight into the arms of the very chaos he’d been trying to escape—and destroyed lives in the process. Never again.

  Resolve firmed. ‘You’ll find the paintings for me.’

  Hazel eyes snapped fire at him. ‘You order me about as if you own me. You don’t, so drop the attitude.’

  He allowed himself a whisper of a smile. He now understood why, for such a diminutive figure, her reputation seemed larger than life. She’d obviously developed a blatant disregard for sense or self-preservation.

  ‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding, ma belle,’ he said in a softer, more conversational tone. ‘You seem to be labouring under the impression that you can bargain with me. But understand this—you’ll use all your resources to find the paintings for me or I will hand my dossier over to Interpol. Let them decide what to do with you. As for your connection with the man who owns this house …’

  A trace of colour left her smooth features. ‘What about Trevor?’

  ‘He knew your whereabouts when I contacted him last week and he lied to me. I’m prepared to let that affront slide if you help me.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘I can easily make life difficult for him if you don’t co-operate. Given the state of his finances …’ He let his shrug finish his sentence.

  What little colour there was left her face. ‘He’ll fight you. We both will.’

  ‘With what? He’s nearly bankrupt. And you recently liquidated ninety percent of your assets. The reason behind that isn’t yet known to me, but it’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘How—?’

  Reiko stopped and sucked in a desperate breath. It wasn’t worth asking how he knew all this about her. The man she’d known five years ago had possessed the same single-minded intensity in his pursuits.

  Only then that pursuit had been his unrelenting desire. For her. Not her talent.

  Looking into his eyes, she knew he meant every word. And if Damion succeeded in finding out why she’d liquidated her assets …

  Renewed panic clawed at her insides. The feeling of being cornered, of being exposed, threatened to fling her into the familiar dark void.

  Fighting to keep her fraying emotions under control, she moved away from him, but Damion Fortier’s gaze tracked her, setting her on edge. ‘I never thought you’d resort to blackmail to achieve your goals, Damion,’ she bit out.

  ‘And I never thought you’d take a lover three weeks after leaving my bed. Let’s agree to be deeply disappointed in each other, cherie, and move on.’

  The ice in his tone froze her spine.

  ‘To sweeten the deal, I’ll even pay you handsomely. Two million dollars for locating both paintings.’

  Her mouth dropped open at the astounding figure.

  A mocking smile touched his lips. ‘I thought that might get your attention. Listen to your instinct. Take the deal.’

  A sense of inevitability settled on her shoulders. Damion was going nowhere. She could fight, or she could take the money. That sort of money could make a huge difference—change the lives of so many. ‘I’ll do it. For the two million. But I want something else.’

  Grey eyes darkened with thinly veiled contempt. ‘Of course you do. What?’

  ‘Invite me to your exhibition.’

  ‘Non,’ he negated immediately.

  Her lips tightened. ‘My talents are good enough for tracking paintings but not good enough for your crowd?’

  ‘Precisely,’ he parried without blinking.

  His insult bounced off her. He wasn’t the first to call her character into question and he wouldn’t be the last. Reiko liked it that way. With people busy examining the glossy, showy shell of her carefully honed character, they weren’t looking underneath to the scars, the pain of loss and the constant fear that lurked there; they couldn’t see the empty darkness in her soul that she battled every waking moment to hide.

  She needed the camouflage just as she needed every wit to keep Damion Fortier from finding out just how damaged she’d become.

  ‘I’ve been out of circulation for a while. If you want me to find your paintings quickly, don’t deny me this lead.’

  The lead would also give her the chance to find the final Japanese jade statue she’d been attempting to retrieve. Her client’s last desperate call rang in her ears—one she hadn’t been able to ignore. The digging Reiko had done this past week had pointed her in the direction of a prominent French politician who’d be attending Damion’s exclusive exhibition.

  When Damion’s face remained impassive, she changed tactic. ‘Your guest list reads like something out of an art collector’s fantasy. I don’t think I’ll ever get another chance to mingle with people so influential in art or come within a whisper of the famous St Valoire Ingénue collection.’

  ‘Your presence anywhere near my exhibition is not something I’d term a fantasy. In fact I’d call it more of a nightmare.’

  Despite knowing he wouldn’t believe her, she said, ‘I’m not a thief, Baron.’

  ‘All evidence points otherwise.’

  ‘I’m an art connoisseur, like you. Just because we took different paths in our pursuit of art doesn’t make us any different from each other.’

  His haughty expression added insult to injury. ‘I highly doubt we’re anything alike. You deal underneath the black market—’

  ‘I retrieve art no one else can and return it to where it belongs. Isn’t that why you’re here?’

  One silky eyebrow shot up. ‘So you’re the Robin Hood of the art world?’

  She grimaced. ‘Green tights aren’t my style. Besides, I don’t really like labels. Invite me to your exhibition. Who knows? Your squeaky-clean patrons might rub off on me and I’ll transform into a model citizen and find your precious paintings.’

  His eyes narrowed.

  Reiko held her breath, fought the urge to speak. Sometimes silence was a better weapon.

  ‘You can work on your transformation in your own time. First you’ll agree to use your every resource to find the paintings.’

  The gravity and raw need behind his words caught her attention. Glancing at him, she saw something in his face she couldn’t give a name to—although she felt his near-hypnotic eyes pin her to the spot. In that moment she was almost ready to forget everything she knew about this man and believe the paintings meant something significant to him.

  Almost … if she didn’t know for a fact that Damion Fortier was a heartless bastard. He’d said it himself—anything that didn’t earn him cold hard cash was sentimental and messy.

  His bloodline might be pure but the man was anything but. In the past five years, the broken hearts he’d left scattered around Europe alone—publicly denied in return for jaw-droppingly extravagant parting gifts but privately mourned—put his status as heartless in direct conflict with his family’s sanctimonious image.

  As for his year-long affair with Isadora Baptiste …

  ‘Why do you want the paintings so badly?’ she asked.

  For several minutes she thought he wouldn’t answer. A very real emotion that looked oddly like pain settled in his eyes. Her breath caught. Pain was a familiar emotion to her, along with guilt, and panic-inducing demons that haunted her nights. Suddenly the need to know clawed at her, and her heart was thun
dering wildly as she waited for his answer.

  ‘Why, Damion?’

  ‘I want … I need to have them back. My grandfather is dying. The doctors have given him less than two months to live. I have to find the paintings for him.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  DESPITE THE INDIRECT devastation Sylvain Fortier had caused her, the raw pain behind Damion’s words made her insides clench.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she fought the sudden automatic need to offer comfort, but the words spilled out anyway. ‘I’m sorry for …’ She stopped. What could she say in such a circumstance?

  When she’d been contacted to broker the sale four years ago, she’d known immediately what the Femme paintings meant to Damion’s grandfather. Her grandfather had told her the history behind them. At the time her first instinct had been to refuse the commission. But she’d convinced herself she’d moved on from Damion’s betrayal—that it was merely another business deal. Now, looking into Damion’s darkened eyes, she wondered if she’d inadvertently set herself up for this meeting, and for his displeasure when he found out just what she’d done with his paintings.

  ‘Damion, I need to—’

  Reiko heard footsteps at the door and her heart sank. A second later, Trevor walked in.

  ‘Sweetheart, what’s going on? I thought I heard the guests leave—’ Catching sight of Damion, he froze inside the doorway. ‘What are you doing here, Fortier?’ he demanded, his hands leaving his dressing-gown pockets to clench at his sides.

  Damion’s set jaw tightened. ‘My business is with her, Ashton, not you. And I’d think carefully before lying to me again in future.’

  ‘You should’ve fetched me the moment he got here, Reiko. After what he did—’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you,’ she rushed to interrupt before he could finish. He was acting out of concern for her. His guardian role was one he refused to relinquish despite her insistence that at twenty-seven she was old enough to take care of herself. What she’d been through made it difficult for him to let go.