The Sinful Art of Revenge

After brushing her fringe over the scar that slid down from her temple to her ear, she arranged her hair carefully over her shoulders and slipped her feet into black patent platforms. To complete the look, she secured small diamond studs to her ears.

The heels were a bad idea after the hours she’d spent in another pair yesterday, but there was no way she was putting herself at a disadvantage by wearing flats in Damion Fortier’s presence.

She’d pay the price later, with painful stretching techniques and long hours of hydrotherapy, but the idea of going toe to toe with the Baron made it worth it.

Half an hour later, Reiko brushed imaginary lint from her sleeve to avoid Trevor’s probing gaze.

‘Tell me again why you’re doing this, Reiko?’ he asked, concern etched into his face.

Reiko contemplated telling him about her bargain with Damion and immediately discarded it. ‘Because he’s paying me a shedload of money.’ She attempted a smile.

He frowned. ‘Money has never been your motivation.’

Her smile dimmed. ‘Sylvain Fortier is dying, and Damion’s asked me to help find his painting.’ The partial truth was better than nothing.

Trevor’s lips compressed. ‘That’s just it, Reiko. After what they did to your grandfather, and to you, they have no right!’

Reiko’s heart performed a painful flip but she kept the smile fixed in place. ‘That’s in the past. I’m over it. Besides, I wasn’t joking. He is paying me a shedload—some of which can help you—’

He shook his head firmly. ‘I can take care of my own financial mess.’

‘You took care of me when I needed you. Now it’s my turn.’

The lines of worry faded but didn’t disappear. ‘Did you sleep last night?’

She shrugged. ‘A little. Don’t worry about me, Trevor. That’s an order.’

He laughed, his worry abating to reveal the vibrant fifty-five-year-old man he was, despite his greying hair. Whatever answer he intended to give was curtailed by the sound of a throaty engine in the morning air.

Reiko’s heartbeat escalated as she watched the black sports car roar its way down the long lane.

Damion didn’t stop in the front drive like any other visitor. He kept coming, his ease behind the powerful car evident in the way his wrist rested on the steering wheel.

His gaze locked on hers, he drove forward until the hood of his car was directly in front of the conservatory. Even with a thick layer of glass between them, Reiko felt the force of his presence, the sheer magnetism of the man, like a crackle of electricity in the air.

Still trapping her with his gaze, he killed the engine and stepped from the car. He’d always had the ability to hold her captive like this, so her every sense was heightened, quaking with awareness.

This morning he’d discarded the designer suit in favour of designer casuals. Dark brown chinos encased his slim hips and ended precisely atop his high-gloss black boots. A slate-grey cashmere jumper worn over a sky-blue shirt did incredibly wonderful things to his eyes.

Watching him mount the shallow steps, she recalled with way too much clarity how his long legs had felt wrapped around her five years ago—and last night in her dreams.

Reeling herself in, she pulled on her cuffs. ‘Good morning. I trust today finds you in a less homicidal mood?’

‘To see you didn’t make a run for it in the middle of night is a good start, certainement.’

‘You need to have more faith, Baron.’

‘I prefer to rely on performance-backed talent.’

‘Then it’s a good thing I have that in abundance.’

His gaze flicked over her suit. ‘Why are you dressed like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘We’re visiting a dusty vault, not attending a state funeral.’

Her belly tightened at his probing look and she forced a careless shrug. ‘This is England, Damion. The weather turns at the drop of a hat and I hate being cold.’

She turned with relief as Simpson walked in with her small suitcase. She went to take it but Damion beat her to it. His fingers brushed over hers, making her heightened senses shriek in hysterical warning. But he seemed totally oblivious as he thumbed the electronic key and stowed the case in the boot.

He glanced at the disappearing Simpson and frowned.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘Is this all you’re taking with you?’

‘Yep, I have a PhD in travelling light.’

His upper lip curled ever so slightly, making Reiko’s hackles rise in response. ‘I suspect you’d need to, in your profession.’

She felt her smile slip and struggled to keep control. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d prefer the insults to start after I’ve digested my breakfast. Now, can I have a minute to say goodbye?’

His eyes cooled as they flicked to Trevor. ‘Make it quick. I don’t have all day.’

She went to Trevor and brushed her lips over his bearded cheek. ‘I know you want to clobber him, but try and rise above it, okay?’

Trevor’s lips twisted. ‘I want to do more than clobber him. But I have to trust you know what you’re doing.’

She smiled, despite knowing Trevor would be no match for Damion. The whipcord strength in the Frenchman’s broad shoulders and that aura of power that radiated off him meant Damion Fortier need never lift a finger in a show of force.

Straightening, she stepped outside and encountered a stony-faced Damion. A dangerous edge of something she couldn’t quite name vibrated off him as he held the passenger door open. The hard slam of the car door rattled her teeth, but she kept the smile on her face for Trevor’s sake.

The moment Damion slid in beside her, Reiko found breathing difficult. The already cramped space diminished even further, the mixture of his scent and the smell of the soft black leather of the luxury car made the air intoxicating in the extreme.

Her trembling fingers had barely secured her seatbelt before he was accelerating down the lane.

‘You do realise you’re not coming back here until after I have my painting?’

She frowned. ‘Yes.’

His gaze left the road for a second. ‘The size of your case seems to indicate otherwise. If you have any thoughts of returning here any time soon, kill them now.’

‘Our agreement still stands. I packed a small case because I didn’t want Trevor to worry. Whatever else I need I can get later.’

His lips tightened. ‘Does he know of our past?’

‘What past?’ she taunted and watched his nostrils flare in irritation.