The Sculptor's Seduction (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 2) Read online

  “Cynthia,” she answered, a vibrant smile spreading over her face, “but you can call me Cyn.” She reached up and placed her hand on Pierce’s shoulder, welcoming his attentions.

  Sin… She was an angel named Cyn. Ahh, hell.

  And he might as well have been there because Sloane felt like he’d been set on fire; anger and jealousy burned through him. He didn’t want this woman, Cyn, touching Pierce, but he had no idea why.

  “And this,” Cyn continued, motioning to the other woman who was with her, “is my friend Tash.” The other woman was a very buxom blond. Her short curls framing her heart-shaped face, her low-cut top accentuating her very generous breasts while her very short skirt showed off her shapely legs. She extended her hand over the table, in front of Cyn, and waited for Pierce to take it.

  Not one to pass up the opportunity, Sloane watched as Pierce took the woman’s hand and kissed the back of it. The corresponding look Tash sent Pierce was one of pure lust.

  She was Pierce’s type.

  Not physically. Sloane didn’t think the man had a type physically; no, his type was the ‘I’m down for anything’ woman and this blond fit the bill.

  “Hey there, sugar,” Tash said seductively.

  The whole interaction would have made Sloane nauseous except for the fact that his body was overwhelmed with his inexplicable desire for the dark vixen who was still watching him intently.

  “Ladies, these are my very good friends, Tristan and Sloane.” Pierce finally paused to introduce them.

  “It’s lovely meeting you,” Tristan began, not even extending his hand. “But, I think I’m due to get back to my fiancée. Enjoy your evening.” And with a cordial smile, Tristan left Sloane to fend for himself.

  Dick.

  “Oh, they will,” Pierce yelled after Tristan, taking the opportunity to put his hand around Cyn’s waist and pull her to him.

  Sloane’s grip on his empty glass tightened, every cell in his body raging to yank her away from him; he didn’t want Pierce touching her.

  “So, ladies, my friend here is looking for a model for an upcoming project. Any chance either of you would be interested?” Pierce asked slyly.

  “Pierce,” he bit out, not liking where this was going.

  “Hmm, that could be fun,” Cyn began, biting her lip as her eyes darted to him. Her seductive mask broken for a split second by the shards of his stare before her gaze returned to Pierce. “We don’t come cheap though.”

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  “I think he can afford it,” Pierce laughed. “Can’t you, Sloane?”

  “Can and will are two very different things,” he ground out. Enough was enough; he couldn’t do this. He didn’t care what kind of shit Pierce would give him for backing out and retreating; this had gone too far. He was not going to let Pierce swindle or bully him into doing this – into using either one of them. He tried to pretend he didn’t see the imperceptible flash of hurt cross Cyn’s face at his callous response.

  He was not going to use a professional escort or whatever the hell she was as a model. No. Fucking. Way.

  “Are they not up to your standards?” Pierce taunted, his eyebrows raising. “Don’t worry, ladies, you are drop-dead gorgeous; this one—” He motioned to Sloane. “—can be a little stiff.”

  Yeah, if Pierce knew how fucking ‘stiff’ he was right now just from meeting Cyn, he’d eat his fucking words.

  Sloane didn’t answer him, his crystal-blue eyes shooting daggers at his friend for finding this whole situation entertaining.

  “Alright, alright,” Pierce continued, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Well, if you’re sure that you don’t want to use either of them for your piece, then it looks like I’ll be twice as lucky.” His tone insinuating just what darkly sexual plans he had for the three of them. “C’mon ladies, let’s get out of here.”

  Sloane’s jaw clenched as he watched Pierce stand, adjusting his tailored suit jacket as he put one arm around Tash while the other snaked around Cyn’s back to grab her ass as they began to head for the door.

  He was unprepared for his attraction to her. He was unprepared for his jealousy over Pierce’s every interaction with her. And he was unprepared for the electric shock of possessiveness that charged through him seeing Pierce touch her like that and lead her away from him.

  She was his.

  “Fine.” His voice boomed across the room – a resolute declaration that halted Pierce in his tracks and drew the gaze of many of the nearby patrons. He didn’t know where it had come from – the need to stop them, the need to keep her. The shock of her… of craving her… had turned his mind blank and the word had left his mouth before his brain started functioning again.

  Sloane watched as Pierce dropped both of his arms at his demand, turning along with both women, to face him with the most successfully sly smile stamped on his darkly devilish face. “Wonderful!” His asshole of a friend responded, the thrill of his little game emanating from every word he spoke. “Who would you like?”

  Sloane didn’t even look at him. Not only would he not give Pierce that satisfaction, he couldn’t; his gaze had locked with hers as though his stare could brand her soul as his.

  “Cynthia.” Her full name rolled off his tongue like it was the only language he spoke. Her gaze flickered in response; she seemed just as startled as he that he’d called after her. With Pierce, her responses had been fluid, trained – a habit. With him, she seemed to be thrown off-guard, no sultry, ready-to-go response.

  Cyn turned to Pierce, gave him a soft smile and said, “Have a good night,” and then a “I’ll talk to you later,” to her friend.

  “Show him a good time, doll – he’s been far too frumpy lately,” Pierce added, smirking at her.

  As Cyn turned towards him, Pierce winked at him and said, “I knew you were looking for a model. Don’t ever say my ideas are never good ones,” and with that he turned, placing his hand on the blonde’s large ass, and strolled out of the bar to enjoy the rest of his night.

  Sloane fumed; he was livid at Pierce for putting him in this situation.

  Now he knew what Tristan felt like a few months ago. Pierce was an asshole.

  Sloane heard the insinuation in his voice, reminding him that Pierce ‘knew’ he was just looking to get laid.

  He was an asshole and he was completely wrong.

  He wasn’t looking for someone to sleep with, he never was. Even though Pierce and Tristan – before Ellie – had taken advantage of their infamous and seductive status by sleeping with all of their models, Sloane never did.

  His Guild partners didn’t know that though.

  He’d let Tristan and Pierce believe that he was just like them, taking what was freely offered, because it was easier than having to explain the truth to them.

  The explanation was a trauma he never wanted to relive again.

  The truth was that he’d never slept with a woman before.

  Chapter 2

  Cyn stopped, entranced by the man with the hypnotic blue eyes – Sloane. His name sent shivers up her spine and warmth down between her thighs as she effortlessly crossed the distance between them. He made her nervous, there was no question about that. His cool restraint and calculated reserve were a stark contrast to most of the men she dealt with who literally threw themselves at her. Some might consider him a breath of fresh air – not Cyn. No, different was dangerous. Different meant that she didn’t know how to control him.

  Control was everything.

  That was the one life lesson she’d learned in her twenty-nine years. The phrase wasn’t ‘he who has the gold makes the rules;’ it was ‘he who has the control makes the rules.’ And it had taken her twenty-six of those twenty-nine years to learn that. High school, college… they were a blissfully uneventful blur. She’d only had one goal in mind – to become a ballet dancer, to perform, and eventually open up her own studio. Her parents had insisted that she go for her Bachelor’s degree first before she pu
rsued a career in dance; so, fine – they paid and she went. Ballet was her constant companion to her other studies. The control it required over her own body and mind kept her focused and calm. She studied hard and danced harder, putting every ounce of effort and spare time into perfecting her craft and her audition.

  A hop, skip, and a plie later, she was accepted to Juilliard – one of the most prestigious performing arts schools in the country; it was one of the happiest moments of her life.

  It was also the beginning of the end.

  She waltzed blissfully into the world of dance that she’d been dying to be consumed by. She excelled in every class, every dip, and every leap; there was nothing that could keep her back from her dream – nothing except her heart.

  Her second year, the school hired a new ballet instructor who was on a fresh hiatus from the New York Ballet Company. Marcus Schuman. He was enthusiastic about teaching and ready to give back to the program that had taught him so much – a program that his family had started over half a century ago.

  Marcus was great. He got along with almost every student, but especially with Cyn – or Cynthia as she was referred to back then. He saw her passion, her drive, and he encouraged it; he spent extra time in class with her, gave her tips that he would only share later with the rest of the students. Cynthia thought – naively – that it was because of her talent that he had singled her out to receive his dedicated tutelage. They began to spend more and more time together – practicing after class for hours with him as her partner. With his help, her pointe and ballet skills improved immeasurably – and so did her feelings for him. The fact that he was already married somehow eluded her conscience as dancing kept them in a world of their own. He was handsome, he was talented, and he was enraptured by her and her skills. At twenty-four, it seemed like the perfect recipe for a love story.

  And so, at the beginning of her third year, they began their affair and Marcus tutored her on a whole different dance – one of passion – that he was solely determined to enjoy.

  Her delusion grew with every détourné; every pirouette further altering her perception of reality. At least in hindsight, that is. His encouragement didn’t help – inflating her head with his opinion of her skills and inflating her heart with promises that he never intended to keep. He was going to leave his wife – they were going to dance together – they would be unstoppable… the triteness of the lies he told should have alerted her to their falseness. But, she wasn’t in control of herself or her life because she wasn’t in control of her heart. She was lulled into a false sense of security by the faultless image of it all.

  Until she’d walked in on him fucking a first-year dancer the day before graduation.

  Cyn shook her head, making it look like she was tossing her hair when really, she was tossing the malignant memories from her mind.

  Deep breaths.

  Control was everything.

  And Sloane was making her feel like she was losing it – all because of his discomforting cobalt gaze. Even though he had her adrenaline pumping, years of dancing – years of public performances – had trained her body’s comportment to be able to remain sequestered from her emotional state. As such, even with her heart pumping furiously, she seductively sauntered back over to the table and the gentleman who had unexpectedly bidden her. She knew how she looked, it was what she used to her advantage; it gave her confidence and confidence gave her control.

  “Change your mind, handsome?” she asked, coyly.

  “It’s Sloane.” His tone was vacant as he tried to diminish her flirtation – especially since there were still several lingering eyes watching their interaction from around the bar.

  “Mmm…” she moaned, biting her lip as though his name had been a caress over her body. His stare flashed hungrily at her – or rather at the fullness of her lower lip that had been trapped between her teeth. A small success. When he said nothing, she continued before the silence became awkward – at least for her; he seemed perfectly content to just sit and stare. Honestly, it would have been easy money to just sit in silence the entire night and it would have made up for her taking the night off from the club. But it annoyed her how decidedly unresponsive he was to her. “So, what do you say we go somewhere a little more private?”

  As she asked the question, she placed a hand on one of his thighs, immediately having to resist the urge to yank it back from the scorching heat that her touch encountered. Her fingers began to trail upwards along the solid muscle towards the source of the flame until one of his large hands completely covered hers, stopping it in its tracks.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said. His eyes softening slightly as if he were secretly asking her to be the one to beg off of this arrangement.

  She froze for a moment in his gaze, letting his words sink in. This was her chance to leave. This was her chance to escape the mysterious man who threatened the tight control she held over herself. But, she wouldn’t run.

  And she wouldn’t let him think that she was here because she was forced to be.

  “Of course, I don’t,” she replied tartly. She hated any type of insinuation that she’d been forced into the lines of work that she’d chosen – keyword: chosen.

  At the same time, she fought a grimace as she replayed what she’d just done; it had been too forward. She wasn’t usually this boldly seductive; she usually didn’t need to be. Most men fell over themselves to be with her. Sloane, it appeared, was not like most men and that threw her off of her game. The only thing that she knew for certain was that her brazenness put him off guard and that made her feel like she was still in control; she needed that control.

  With that in mind, her hand tried to push forward underneath his before it was instantly stilled by the steel-like grip of his fingers causing an almost painful level of confinement.

  “Don’t.” His tone matched the iciness of his stare. “I need a model, not… whatever Pierce told you.” The terseness of his voice sliced through her practiced flirtation. What was wrong with this man? Her eyes widened, blinking rapidly at his words. Not only was he not responding to her advances, he’d basically said that he didn’t want them… that he didn’t want her. She continued to watch in disbelief as he plucked her hand from off of his leg and stood.

  Damn, he was gorgeous.

  She was tall, but he was taller. Now that he was standing in front of her, she felt overwhelmed by his presence and her attraction to him. When she’d first glanced over at the table earlier, Pierce and the other guy who had been with them had caught her eye – mostly because their features were a breathtaking contrast to one another – one light and one dark. Sloane had had his back to her and had seemed to fall blandly in the middle. Now that he was her only focus, the attractiveness of his features was overpowering – especially those eyes. Unlike his friends whose good-looks sucker-punched you the second you saw them, Sloane’s features were like a really good drink that she’d slowly been imbibing for the past twenty minutes, not really noticing its effect until she’d had to walk back over to him only to realize just how intoxicated he’d made her.

  Another reason she’d laid on her advances so strongly.

  His light brown hair was pushed back away from the strong planes of his face. He kept it longer than his friends; their hair was more what she expected from businessmen. Sloane, well, his hair was just one more thing that was unexpected about him. Her gaze traveled farther down, following the thickness of his neck, over his wide shoulders and broad chest that filled out the suit jacket that was still buttoned in front. However, the edges of his jacket didn’t fall quite low enough to conceal his body’s evident disagreement with his words.

  He could be unfriendly all he wanted, but he couldn’t hide his arousal.

  Confident control bloomed in her chest again as she looked lower and saw the large evidence of his reaction to her pressing against his tailored suit, bringing a whole new meaning to the word ‘fitted’.

  “Are you sure about that?”
she asked with a deliberate glance down to the front of his pants before returning her eyes to meet the blue steel of his. His jaw flexed knowing that there was no mistaking his attraction to her.

  His eyes flared at her emotional response and with an urgency that showed how uncomfortable their interaction – and their audience - were making him, he said, “We should go.” She didn’t miss the exhale that accompanied his statement – a sign of resignation, like she was a problem to be dealt with. Then again, he hadn’t answered her question directly either.

  This night… this man… was becoming more perplexing by the moment. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t called it quits yet. There was a challenge here; he was a challenge.

  Unlike Pierce, who’d immediately been assertive in his physical attentions to her, Sloane didn’t touch her. In fact, it seemed like he purposefully strode at a distance that was close enough to tell that they were leaving together, but far enough away that any contact between them would have looked awkward.

  “So, where are you taking me, Sloane?” She liked saying his name, especially when the way she said it seemed to do something to him.

  They’d just made it outside the building and she watched him look around for a second before he spotted the car that was going to take them to their destination coming around the corner.

  “To my studio.”

  “Mmhmm.” Of course, ‘his studio’. “Whatever you want.” She sighed, taking in a deep breath of the crisp night air.

  “I don’t want that.” His sharp stare spun to hers again to emphasize his words. “I told you, I need a model for my next project – just like Pierce said.” He turned back and began to walk towards the car that had pulled up for them.

  “That’s a pretty steep price to pay for just a model…” She mused quietly, following him to the car.

  “It’s not a problem,” was all he said as he held open the car door for her – the first relatively nice thing he’d done so far. Just as she began to step into the car he added, “If you knew Pierce, you’d know that this is nothing compared to the havoc he’d wreak on my life if I didn’t choose you.”