Alexander

 

 

I had seen that look before on a woman—my mother. The shock. The hurt.

I should have been honest with Aria from the beginning, but Bradley insisted we tell them nothing. He didn’t know the women and, therefore, he didn’t trust them. He believed it a security risk if we let them know who I was.

What Bradley really meant was my mother would be upset if anyone, especially women she hadn’t vetted, came near me. As much as I considered my security guard, Bradley Gibson, a friend who happened to be my cousin, he still worked for my mother.

“Please, Aria, come in and take a seat. I promise these chairs are much more comfortable than the plastic ones in the basement.”

Her eyes still wide, stared at me. An ache radiated through my chest and down my arms. My hand slid over the supple surface of the chair back. I lowered my eyes as thoughts of her caused my cheeks to warm.

Her beauty was addictive and painful.

“You’re A. Hawthorne? But . . . uh, but—” She pointed back down the hall to where Bradley was keeping an eye on her friends.

I walked over to her and placed my hand on her back. A jolt shot up my arm. It wasn’t static, just my heart seizing from fear, from heat, from the wild thoughts my mind threw at it. And it was like nothing I had felt before.

I had become accustomed to hiding my emotions, especially fear. To survive in my family, it was essential. But this was new. This was wonderful and challenging to hide.

“We had to make sure you weren’t with the paparazzi or a weird art groupie,” I said after guiding Aria to a chair and crouching down to face her.

Her deep brown eyes searched my face as she frowned. I wondered if I pushed her too far tonight. Trapping her and her friends in that basement was wrong. I might have to kill Bradley if he helped ruin the one chance I got with the woman I had lusted after for three years.

Her brow wrinkled in the most delectable way. “You have art groupies? I have been in the art world for over ten years and I never had any art groupies.”

“They tend to go after famous artists and collectors or the talented.” Instant regret caused me to frown.

I shook my head and tried to open my mouth to explain my poor choice of words, but it was too late. Aria jerked away and up out of the chair.

“Oh, well, if I’m not talented then why did you buy my paintings, Mr. Hawthorne?” Aria asked as if the words left a dreadful taste in her mouth.

She moved backward toward the door before her eye caught the small Picasso drawing on the wall. With abrupt flare, she stopped.

“I didn’t mean you weren’t talented. Of course you are or I wouldn’t have been fascinated by your work. I just meant artists and collectors who they deem talented,” I said cringing at my even worse explanation.

Usually I could hold my own in just about any conversation. Even philosophical or political debates, while challenging, were enjoyable to me. But everything I said around Aria seemed wrong, felt wrong.

It was as if my penis told my brain to take a vacation. She challenged me in ways that I wasn’t at all prepared for. It propelled me forward. I stood and walked toward her.

Aria turned to face me, her arms folded and eyes narrowed for what I knew would be a verbal attack. “I get that you are a little out of touch with us common folk with all your wealth to pad you from getting near us, but we don’t really like to be insulted.”

She smirked as she took a moment to gaze about the room. “Did you think you could dazzle me with your amazing art and killer body and hypnotic eyes and I would succumb to a giggle fit when you put down my work?”

Killer body? Blood raced through my veins the more she spoke. Her complimentary words, meant to disguise an insult, were all too familiar to me. It was a tactic my mother gave out like lollipops.

“Excuse me?” I said as I folded my arms over my chest.

“I’ll make this real clear for you, Mr. Hawthorne. I don’t like to be lied to or disrespected. Maybe in your fancy pants world, everyone lies all the time. Maybe it’s a favorite game among the wealthy, who can conjure up the biggest fib while putting people down. Do you win a prize? A golden statue with the biggest dick?”

Aria stepped a little closer to me, her hands moved to her hips. I took a deep breath inhaling what I imagined a wild bed of flowers in a summer meadow would smell like.

My nose flared for more and I had to restrain my hand that only wanted to sink deep into her silky hair. I battled my senses to stay present and defend myself.

“You think this is a game? Some out of touch recluse that plays horrible tricks on people? Wow. This from a woman who hid in a delivery truck so she could sneak into someone’s home.”

Aria’s eyes widened and her mouth opened at my accusation but I wasn’t finished.

“Don’t pretend you just wanted to shake my hand, Ms. Dixon. I’m well aware that there are lots of people who would do anything to meet me. Even a small-time artist looking to further her career,” I said as the corner of my lips hitched.

She didn’t like that. I believe I discovered what Aria actually looked like when she was mad and damn it, if it wasn’t sexy. Her cheeks rosy as her chin tilted up. “You are so full of yourself, you know that, Mr. Hawthorne? Oh, look at me, I’m someone who was born rich and never had to work a day in my life. I can make fun of anyone and they have to take it. La de da!” Aria waved her hands in the air and started to hop about as she tried to mimic me.

I wanted to laugh but something about her, how she flushed at my words and her body came alive with reaction, kept me pushing her.

“Was that supposed to be me, Ms. Dixon? Because I have to say I have seen a better imitation from my five-year-old cousin when he tried to paint my Jackson Pollack painting.” I gestured toward the door where on the hallway wall was, in fact, a Pollack that my cousin once said he could paint something just like that.

“Maybe you should stick with your day job,” just before the word fell out of my mouth I knew I would regret it but I couldn’t seem to stop myself, “bartending.”

She gasped and something ghosted across her face for only a second but I knew it wasn’t good.

Aria moved closer to me. Just an inch stood between us and I had to bend my head to look at her. My eyes dipped to her lips, thick and red and waiting to be tasted. Then to her long, creamy neck for a moment before returning to her eyes. She was petite, but I knew that even the slightest creatures could carry the biggest punch.

Her blow wasn’t swift, and at first, I didn’t realize she hurt me, but then it sunk in. It was deep enough that I knew the pain would linger.

She patted my arm and smiled. “You are so pretty. Tell me, is that why people want to know you,” she tilted her head to the side, as if to really inspect me, “or is it just about the money?”

Memories of a dark time flickered in my head at her words. I took a breath and instead of telling her to get out, removing myself from her presence, I did the opposite.

As my arm burned from her touch, fire filled my veins. I stared back at her lips, the same color as her top. I could feel that red crawl up my neck and cover my ears. Every word that came out of her mouth reached into my chest and ripped it apart.

The more she spoke, the more I wanted to bite her. My fuel was her fire.

I pushed her arm from mine and turned my head. Trying to breathe, I focused on the Picasso. Art had always soothed me but for some reason as I closed my eyes, lines in the drawing seemed to morph into the curves of her body.

This game we were playing was petty, and I wanted it to end. How I wanted it to end was a problem. I kept picturing the solution. The beautiful resolution that only her thighs spread wide could solve.

But that was never going to happen.

“You see this line right here, Aria?” Opening my eyes, I pointed to the Picasso.

I glanced back for a second to find her brow wrinkled as she turned to gaze at the picture. “Yeah.”

“Do you know why Pablo Picasso made that line?” I stared into her mocha eyes. They flickered between me and the line as her body stiffened in preparation for some impending attack from me.

“I know it’s one of his lovers. I think she gave birth to two of his children.”

“That’s a fact, Aria. What I want was his heart when he drew that. There was a reason for every line he drew, and it had to do with what he felt for her. Why that line?”

Her hesitation melted from her face and she leaned closer. “It’s where her hand meets her cheek. The line is clean, sharp, unlike the others that are messy.”

I leaned closer to her ear and took a breath. My eyes closed as her sweet scent filled my lungs. “Perhaps there was a reason that line was different than the others.”

She moved slightly, tilting her head to expose her neck causing me to weaken.

“I, uh . . . I don’t know,” she whispered.

“Because that’s where he liked to touch her. Maybe to kiss her or bite her.”

Aria turned her head, her eyes widened. “But what about her lips?” Aria’s gaze dropped to my mouth. “Wouldn’t he focus on that if he wanted to do those things?”

I brought my thumb up to her bottom lip and gently brushed it as I spoke, “He did focus on her mouth, but the lines are light, not heavily drawn. Maybe he was gentle there but savage everywhere else.”

Her nostrils flared and I couldn’t help myself. I had to take a bite. I moved closer but as I was an inch from her lips, the door to my office opened. We raised our heads to find Aria’s friend, Evaleen, standing there with Morgana directly behind her. I could hear Bradley’s voice growing louder as it came closer, about how they aren’t allowed back here.

Before I could stop what was happening, Aria was pulled away, disappearing with Morgana down the hall. My eyes stayed on her until the last strand of platinum hair disappeared around the corner. I drew a heavy breath, finding it difficult to grasp that once again, she was disappearing from my life.

“Nothing better have happened to my friend. Your boss, Mr. Hawthorne, may know people. You may have money, but I have resources,” Evaleen said as she poked her finger into my chest.

She turned and left with the other women. Bradley finally showed up. “I went to get Evaleen a glass of water because she started to cough and when I came back, they had sneaked down the hall.

I nodded. “Yes. And I want her to do it again.”