The Uber takes me straight to Victor’s house where I don’t even wait to be announced. I don’t know if he’s home, but I walk into his house like I own it. My feet slap on the marble floors as I pass his study and go straight to his living room where I find him with his arms crossed over his chest standing next to the Sister of Mourning forgery stolen from the museum. I’m livid. I knew it was him!
‘Do you often barge into other people’s homes?’ he asks with his eyebrows raised.
‘Oh, cut the crap, Costa. You have some nerve.’ I march into his living room over the Persian rugs, past the paintings on the wall I know are stolen works, and stalk right up to him. My head is spinning in fury and it’s all directed at him in spite of the fact that it’s all my fault.
‘You seem perturbed.’ Victor uncrosses his arms, slides his hands into his pockets, and I glare at him, ready to smack him across the face.
‘How could you? You know this is going to affect me, Victor. I’m not stupid enough to think you care about me simply because we fucked, but this? My whole world could come collapsing down around me and you don’t seem to mind.’ This whole thing is only happening because I directly defied Mr. Giani’s instructions to keep the authentic Raphael on display. I forged it, and now I can’t admit that or that crooked Interpol agent will hang me out to dry.
I could still confess, tell them I did it to protect the authentic painting, and maybe Mr. Giani will fire me and cut his losses, but he’ll have the real painting. Still, if Victor fences the forgery and people find out it was me, I’ll lose all credibility. I can’t have that.
His hand reaches out and wraps around my shoulders. I shudder, but I don’t back away. As angry as I am with him, his move is still comforting. It anchors me in the moment and tempers the rage I have coursing through my body. He has the painting. It hasn’t been fenced yet, and there is still time to undo this wrong we’ve both been complicit in.
‘Look how beautiful it is, Bella,’ Victor says, his voice so smooth I almost fall into the trap. The way he looks at me in earnest, as if imploring me to see things the way he sees them, I can hardly resist it. My eyes shift to the painting and I admire the handiwork. It’s my masterpiece, though it’s just a copy of someone else’s work. It’s not like I can sell it. It’s not like I’ll ever be recognized for that.
‘Victor,’ I say in protest, but he shakes me gently and turns me around then stands me directly in front of the painting.
‘Look at the amazing talent you have. You could do this for millions of dollars, Bella. Think of all the lost paintings you could retrieve with your artwork. They’d be displayed in the most prominent galleries around the world and—’
‘No,’ I tell him firmly, turning around to lock eyes with him. ‘I’m not the woman you think I am or want me to be. I forged that painting because I knew you would try to steal it. The authentic Sister is safe in the vault, and you are a thief, just like I knew you were.’ I’m heaving for air, chest rising and falling so hard I must appear like I’ve just finished a footrace.
‘Bella,’ he coos.
‘Stop it. Just stop.’ I try to step away but he pins me in, holding me back with an arm across my middle, and I reach up and smack him the way I wanted to a few minutes ago. Victor catches my hand and twists me around, folding my arm up behind my back. He is so strong and it happens so fast, I’m not sure what to think.
‘You’d give up a future of ease, no pressure to be anything other than what you know you are? I can secure it for you, Bella. Make sure it’s solid, that you’ll never fear anything or lack anything again.’ His breath vibrates across my cheek, his face so close I can almost feel his stubble on my cheek.
‘Let me go,’ I tell him, but the truth is, I don’t want him to let me go. What he’s saying is ludicrous. I will never stoop to being an art forger for money, not even if I’m down to my last dime. I am, however, drawn to this man in ways I will never understand. I can’t make myself stop responding. My body tenses against his manhandling of me, but my core pools with warmth.
‘But you like it when I do this,’ he whispers, pulling me backward away from the painting. His body stays firmly pressed against mine, leaving not even an inch of space between us.
‘I mean it, Victor. Let me go.’ I don’t really mean it. Something inside me wants him to take control because when he is in control, at least I feel safe. Ever since that Raphael came into my life, it’s been nothing but chaos and adrenaline, and I’d like to feel something other than fear or panic.
‘I don’t think you mean that, so I’m going to give you a safe word, Bella. If you say the name Mona Lisa, I will stop what I’m doing. Until then, you are my toy, and I will do with you as I please.’ Victor’s teeth sink into the side of my neck, and I hiss in pain, but I arch my head to the side, allowing him more freedom to devour me.
Victor’s hand slides from my wrist and wraps around my waist a moment later, his fingers caressing my skin which results in goosebumps racing along my arms. I moan as his other hand cups the side of my breast, squeezing and kneading roughly, as if he’s testing my limits. I want to slap him away, I really do, but before I can do anything, Victor has his hand inside my bra and is palming my bare breast.
‘I am going to enjoy fucking you into submission, Bella,’ he whispers hoarsely in my ear.
In that moment, I find I can’t quite find it in me to object anymore. A part of me—the part that thrives on danger and thrill—revels in the situation I’ve gotten myself into. Victor’s grip on my breast tightens, and instead of eliciting pain, it sends a flood of warmth straight to my core. His fingertips pinch my nipple and roll it back and forth, and I gasp, unable to contain the moan building in my chest.
‘Victor, I…’ I start to speak, but he silences me with a searing kiss, his tongue invading my mouth in a way that leaves no space for objection. His hand slides down to my waistband, his fingertips questing, searching for the true prize.
‘I don’t care whether you’re wet for me or not, Bella,’ he growls into my ear, his voice hot and possessive. ‘I’m going to have you now. Here.”
“You’re a vile man…” His fingertips rub my clit, rubbing and working me up. Vile or not, he’s got me where he wants me. I’m no hapless victim, though, and he knows it. He knows I’m enjoying this.
“Oh, Bella, there’s a fire in you. A fire I intend to extinguish and resurrect as many times as I’d like tonight.”
I’m whimpering, weak in the knees as he pushes his fingers into my slit. My tight waistband makes it difficult for him to do much, and he remedies that by loosing my breast and yanking my pants down so quickly I gasp.
“Victor…”
“Don’t you dare tell me no, darling, because I can see how wet you are for me. It’s all over your thighs.”
My face heats with embarrassment, but I can’t deny it. He dips his finger in my wetness and then slowly drags it across my lips. “Taste yourself, then let me taste you.”
I do the only thing I can think to do in this moment. I take his finger into my mouth, sucking on it languidly as if it’s his cock. I tease him the same way he’s been teasing me, and Victor’s grip around my waist tightens so hard I’m sure he’ll leave bruises tomorrow.
“That’s my good girl,” he coos before abruptly sealing his lips back to mine.
I unbutton his pants in a frenzy, desperate to feel him between my legs. His cock is rock hard against the inside of his pants, and I help him shuck them down along with his boxers so his dick is free for me to stroke. He steps out of his pants then stands on mine as he pushes me backward. I stumble as I untangle my feet from the mess of clothing, and Victor grabs me by my hair, knotting his fist in it to keep me balanced. I whimper, and as my head arches back, he steps forward and bites at my pulse point.
He continues backing me across the room as he unbuttons my shirt and slides it off me. I unhook my bra and let the material fall away, and I can’t resist splitting the front of his button-down open, tearing his shirt off him until my fingers splay across his hot, corded chest.
He growls low in his throat, grabbing my wrists, and pins them over my head against the wall. His other hand goes between my thighs, guiding himself to my entrance, and I spread my legs apart for him. No words are exchanged as he pushes into me, and I bite my bottom lip to keep from screaming out. It’s so very wrong, but it’s also so deliciously right, this dance of power between us.
Victor slams into me, his hips snapping against mine with enough force to bruise as he pistons into me with fervor. My back arcs against the wall, and I moan wantonly at the rush of pleasure-pain as he fucks me.
‘You like it rough, don’t you, Bella?’ he grunts in my ear. ‘You like being manhandled and told what to do,’ he growls out as he bites my shoulder and sucks on my neck lewdly before releasing me from his grip.
I don’t respond, enjoying this too much to ruin it. When his hand wraps around my throat and he forces me to look him in the eye, I’m tempted to squeak out the safe word he gave me when he started this. But the look in his eye is so intense, the way his dick drives into me so pleasurable, I can only gasp. His cock rubs that sweet spot so well, I’m coming undone, and the eye contact only intensifies that.
The grip he has on my neck tightens. I feel the pressure in my head increase. I want to breathe, to suck in air and fill my lungs, but I can’t. My vision blurs, and all that’s left is him in this moment.
“Victor…” I mouth as the orgasm rips through me. I arch my back against the wall and push myself onto him harder. My entire body is on fire, every nerve ending in overdrive as he continues to pound into me. He grunts through gritted teeth, his hips stuttering against mine before pulling almost all the way out. In one smooth stroke, he slams back into me, and I scream, my knees almost giving out were it not for the wall propping me up.
Victor’s grip loosens just enough to allow me air, and I suck in oxygen as the first wave of climax hits me. The sensation of relief is exhilarating, only intensifying the orgasm. My body shudders and convulses, my pussy pulsing around him. I feel his heat flood me and I know he’s come too.
He releases my wrists and his grip on my neck, but he doesn’t remove himself yet. He breathes heavily against my ear, and I can feel the vibrations in my body where his chest is pressed to mine. We both catch our breath before he finally pulls out of me, but he lingers, hands on my hips, lips placing gentle kisses on the top of my shoulder.
‘Come,’ he orders, taking hold of my hand. I follow as he leads me across the room to the leather sofa. His cum drains down the inside of my thigh, and I feel uneasy with how calm I am when I was so upset walking into this place. Maybe he’s not getting the message that I’m not like him, that I’ve done what I had to do to survive and nothing more. I’m not a criminal.
Victor lounges, pulling me down alongside him. I stretch the full length of the couch, allowing him to hold me, and he kisses me softly again. After sex like that, I’m not sure I even know what to say, but I start with something personal—a reason I believe he will finally start to understand me.
‘I saw something… on the frames…’ My fingers dance over his chest, gently touching the outline of his tattoo. ‘Under black light, there is an arrangement which appears to be a pattern.’
Victor’s hand clenches my fingers then loosens as he weaves his between mine. For a moment, I think he will interrupt me, tell me not to talk about this, that it’s forbidden or something. But he says nothing so I keep going.
‘My father is the reason I’m so interested in Raphael…’ I remember hearing my Papà’s stories. He was so adamant that there was some hidden treasure map, something I fully dismissed, much like the legend of the hidden diamonds. But I’m learning more that maybe I was wrong. ‘He thought the two paintings aligned would lead him somewhere, to a treasure.’
I can’t continue. Emotion chokes me up. I want Victor to understand everything, but thinking about this topic is too painful. How do I say the words?
He pinches my chin, forces me to look up at him as he tangles his legs between mine. His dick is still semi-swollen, damp from our sex, pressing into my thigh. The moment couldn’t possibly be more vulnerable.
‘Tell me, Bella,’ he whispers.
‘My father believed one of your ancestors buried something somewhere, that the map to that wealth is hidden in the frames. He lost his life trying to solve that mystery, Victor. I won’t follow his footsteps. I am not going to dive into the world of crime. I just want to protect the art.’ He studies me intently, holding my chin so I can’t look away. I know my father’s death was ruled accidental, but very powerful men like to keep their secrets hidden. I’m not convinced it was an accident.
‘My mother found a similar fate…’ he says softly, but he doesn’t elaborate. But he does take his hand off my face and slide it to the small of my back where he pulls me closer.
‘This is a mess, Victor. How are you getting me out of this? I never wanted to be a part of it. I just wanted to enjoy the art.’ My lip quivers. I can feel it, and I’m glad he isn’t looking at me for that. I don’t want him to see how scared I am.
Victor sucks in a deep breath and turns back to me. He blinks a few times and presses a kiss to my forehead as he tucks me into his chest. I can’t see him, but I feel the rumble of his baritone voice as he speaks.
‘I’ll return the Sister forgery. We’ll leave it in a padlocked locker at the airport and call in an anonymous tip. They’ll return it to the gallery and you can destroy it. I would never jeopardize your career.’ He stops short of apologizing, but I get the sense he would if he weren’t trying to be so macho about things.
‘And the men who are after me? Someone tried to kill me…’ Remembering that makes my body go rigid. It’s not going to stop unless he fixes what he started.
‘You don’t have to worry about Vitale. Word on the street is he’s been recompensed for his crimes…’ I don’t like his dark tone, but I do think he’s telling the truth. ‘As for the other players, the man who says he’s from Interpol really is. I’m not sure his angle, but you can ignore that too. Just put the Raphael on display and we’ll work it out.’
His hand slides up and down my back, caressing my skin. I feel a bit calmer now but still on edge. Marco Gallo isn’t going to go away just because of Victor’s dreaming. I’m not sure how he thinks things will just work themselves out. I have to get back to the gallery and get the real Last Supper of St Francis out of that locker and find a way to get it to Matthias or someone he trusts, though the thought of that now makes me feel guilty too. Victor brought it to me, and somehow, even though I know it’s the right thing, it feels like betrayal.
‘I should go…’ I start to pull away, but he tightens his arm around me, holding me down.
‘Stay with me?’ he asks, and this time, I’m not as vehemently opposed to it. His eyes search mine. I see the way he wants me, not just to control me or manipulate me, but because I’m the object he desires. Somehow, my presence here does as much for him as his does for me.
‘Okay,’ I respond, and I relax against his chest. For the night…
Then tomorrow, I have to make this situation go away. Because I don’t think anyone is safe until the real paintings are as far away from me as possible.
