The Sculptor's Seduction (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 2) Page 9

  Cyn stared blankly at Ellie whose open confession went straight to her heart, ringing true for her own life even though she couldn’t know that.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ellie gushed. “I tend to ramble awkwardly, especially about things like this when I see people hurting.”

  “Oh, no. Please don’t apologize. I appreciate the insight,” Cyn reassured her, finishing her glass of wine. “I agree with you and I think I would like to break through to him.” She found herself admitting with painful honesty. “I just don’t think I’m the right person to do it; the choices I’ve made in life… Well, let’s just say whatever Sloane wants, whatever he usually gets… I am not it.” And with every minute that passed, she wished more and more that she was.

  Ellie gave her a complacent smile and then added softly, “My dad always told me, ‘if you do what you’ve always done, you’ll get what you’ve always gotten.’ I think the last thing that Sloane needs is more of the same in his life because it’s those same things that continue to allow him to believe that this is all he deserves.” Cyn heard the implication in her voice; she’d heard it in Ellie’s first comment on love. She wanted to reply that it looked like love had no place in either of their lives, but the way that the woman spoke to her, after all that she’d been through surviving her cancer, made Cyn believe that anything was possible.

  “Elsa Carter.” Pierce’s voice suddenly interjected into the conversation.

  Cyn tilted her head to see Sloane speaking with another gentleman, his eyes repeatedly darting over to her. He was anxious to get back to her side – she could read it in every nuance of his body language and that knowledge sent a warm shiver down her spine.

  “Pierce.” Cyn turned back to watch Ellie and the dark Casanova embrace each other in a hug. She’d only been around Pierce… twice now? Even in that short of time, she could tell that he was very different around Ellie. But, she had a feeling that most people were; there was just something so warm and welcoming and healing about her.

  “Why don’t we go grab a table?” Sloane’s voice caressed her ear; she hadn’t noticed him approach her and now he was standing close enough that every cell of her body was at attention.

  Cyn nodded, turning back to Ellie. “It was nice talking to you.”

  “Oh, yes! We should go get lunch sometime or something. Have Sloane give you my number!” A giant smile broke over Ellie’s face and Cyn knew that she wanted to be friends with this woman – both because she was so genuine and because she felt like Ellie was the only one who might have a clue on how to break through Sloane’s apathetic armor.

  “Pierce, nice to see you again.”

  He reached out to grab her hand, bringing it up to his lips. “So lovely to see you here, Cyn.” He kissed the back of her hand, looking at Sloane the entire time; Pierce was taunting him and if the tension radiating from Sloane was any indication – the attempt to unnerve him was working.

  This time as they walked, Sloane placed his fingertips ever-so-gently in the small of her back. The touch was slight, but since he avoided any contact with her, that small connection sent her body into overdrive.

  “Pierce…” Ellie drawled as she watched the couple walk away from him, turning up to narrow her eyes at him. “What are you scheming now?”

  He grinned, feigning innocence. “Absolutely nothing! Why would you even think that?”

  “Because I know you.” She sighed. “You know Sloane isn’t like Tristan; he won’t interpret your games as… games.”

  “He’s a grown man. He’ll be fine.”

  “Remember what you told me the day you convinced me to go see Tristan?”

  He glared at her. “I told you never to speak of that.”

  His tone now had an edge to it, so Ellie decided to back off, ending with, “Well, don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” She really wished he would let someone in; his heart was so hard, she didn’t know how it continued to beat without shattering.

  “Who the hell is that?” She saw him nod and followed his gaze over towards Morgan and his sister.

  “The woman next to Morgan?” She clarified. “It’s his twin sister, Ana.”

  “He has a fucking twin?” Pierce swore. “How the fuck did I not know about this?” Ellie opened her mouth and then shut it again as he continued to bombard her with questions. “Why are we only meeting her now? What is she doing here?”

  “I only briefly talked to her. She’s in town for work, but lives in London.” Ellie watched him curiously, seeing his eyes remain completely focused on the dirty blonde female that was a mirror of Morgan. It seemed his intense stare had been felt by the object because Ana turned towards them and Ellie watched the woman’s face turn red. Morgan then noticed his sister’s distraction and began to walk in their direction.

  “Fuck.” Pierce swore underneath his breath.

  “Don’t be rude,” she scolded. “You’re the one who has all these questions. Well, now you’ll get the chance to have them answered.”

  “Pierce.” Morgan held out his hand and the other man took it, even though his eyes only acknowledged his female counterpart. “Ahh… This is my sister, Ana.”

  Ellie had to give the woman credit, she didn’t flinch under Pierce’s dark and probing stare.

  “Aren’t you fucking hot?” The three of them stared at Pierce, shocked by the words that had come out of his mouth. Was he really going to hit on Morgan’s sister right in front of him?

  “What the fuck, Pierce. Are you serious right now?” Morgan fumed.

  Pierce rolled his eyes. “I meant because it’s a sauna in here and she’s wearing a goddamned long-sleeved sweater. Jesus. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Morgan.” He did have a point – it was the middle of the summer and it was warm in the room because of all the people. But everyone has their own internal thermostat, so it wasn’t the first thing Ellie would have commented on, especially meeting someone for the first time.

  Then again, that was Pierce’s M.O. – abrupt, abrasive, and alarming.

  For a brief moment, Ana looked flustered because of Pierce’s observation, grabbing the edges of her sweater. Even though its design was so that it wrapped completely around her chest, she pulled the overlapping edges tighter. At that point, Ellie worried that it wasn’t just about a difference in body heat; no, to her, it seemed an unconscious attempt to hide what was underneath.

  Before her brother had a chance to defend her, Ana recovered from her discomposure and spoke up. “I’m very comfortable, thank you, Pierce, was it? Although, it seems like this corner of the room is a bit colder than the rest. But that might have more to do with its tenants, rather than its temperature.”

  Ellie raised a hand over her mouth, attempting to hide her smile and laugh as Ana effectively put Pierce in his place.

  Her amusement quickly evaporated as Pierce pinned Ana with his stare, about to open his mouth to reply when she continued, “I think I’m going to go get another glass of wine to try and warm myself up.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Morgan growled, still glaring angrily at Pierce. “I don’t know how even you put up with him sometimes, Ellie.” Then he turned and followed his sister who was already halfway to the bar.

  “Was that really necessary?”

  “What? She was wearing a fucking sweater! What was I supposed to say?” Pierce exclaimed, his eyes still focused on Ana as she stood at the bar, accepting a glass of red wine from the bartender.

  “How about ‘Hi, I’m Pierce. Nice to meet you.’ Or ‘What do you do? What brings you to town?’ Or literally any of the other myriad of acceptable questions you just asked me.” Ellie rolled her eyes at him.

  “What does she do?”

  The man was insufferable. And it was probably the only reason that Ellie took pity on him. “Something with art crimes or white collar crimes, I think.”

  All of the emotion drained from his face as his gaze whipped back to hers.

  “Fuck.” He picked up a high-ball glass off of a p
assing waiter’s tray, clearly on its way to the guest who ordered it and chugged down the clear contents. The waiter turned, about to confront Pierce, but stopped open-mouthed when he saw the man’s dark expression. The waiter’s mouth clamped shut with a nod and he turned to head back over to the bar to get a replacement for the drink that had just been stolen from him.

  “Pierce—” She began, concerned with what she was witnessing.

  “I have to go.” He took a step, turned, leaned down, and kissed her on the cheek. “Congratulations again.” And then he disappeared.

  Ellie shook her head. That man had more issues than the New York Times. Losing him in the crowd, she turned to go find her handsome fiancé.

  Talking to Pierce hadn’t made a difference – not that he thought that it would. Pierce insisted that this meant he had feelings for Cyn; Sloane denied it. Neither was willing to contemplate the possibility of being wrong. Pierce tried to force his hand, making insinuations that he might give her a call once she was done working with Sloane. It had worked even though it wasn’t true; it made him feel more protective towards Cyn. Pierce had walked away from him, heading straight towards her and Ellie, and Sloane had been on his tail until a mutual acquaintance of his and Tristan’s stopped him in his pursuit. His body begun to burn, knowing that Pierce was over there with her and he wasn’t.

  And that was probably why his hand – with a mind of its own – reached out to touch her lower back as they walked. He managed to decently ignore the fire it had started inside of him, but only for the sake of knowing that he’d gotten her away from Pierce and all of the other personal information that that asshole had no problem sharing.

  He led them to one of the bar tables and as soon as they sat down, she didn’t waste a moment before returning to her previous line of questioning.

  “So, you own RSP Realty?”

  “Yes.”

  “I didn’t… I didn’t realize.” She picked up another glass of white wine from a waiter walking by.

  “Is that surprising?”

  She bit her lower lip, flipping a switch of desire inside his body. Desire that was now made worse because he knew what that flesh felt like, what it tasted like, and it was the only thing he wanted to get drunk on.

  “I guess not… You said you owned the building your studio is in and you said that you worked in real estate. I just figured that being a real estate mogul might be something worth making specific mention of. You just don’t act like the way I would imagine the owner of RSP to act.” She took another sip of wine, continuing before he had a chance to question just what the hell that statement meant. “So, you own One57?”

  “Yes. Why do you ask?” He waited.

  “I was working there last weekend.” Now it was his turn to be surprised. She flashed him a ‘how does it feel?’ smile.

  Sloane clenched his jaw, forcing the words he wanted to say – wanted to ask – to remain locked in his throat. He wanted to know why she had been there and who she had been with. And he wanted to evict them.

  Restraint.

  “Oh yeah?” The question was rhetorical and he watched her face fall slightly when he didn’t press further. “I think we should get going.”

  “Already?”

  “I think we’ve stayed a respectable amount of time. Plus, I doubt they will make it back to talk to us again with the amount of people that are here.”

  “Oh… ok.” He watched as she looked longingly over towards the happy couple.

  “She’s incredible, isn’t she?” He was referring to Ellie. Even though she was shy, once she opened up to you, you felt like you were the most important person in the world; she made you feel like all things were possible.

  “She’s wonderful,” Cyn declared. “I’m supposed to get her number from you so that we can go get lunch, her and I.”

  “I’ll send it to you on the way.” He held the door open for her, taking one last look into the crowded room. In spite of the mass of people, one black, devilish gaze stood out from all the rest.

  The one that knew Sloane had been lying when he’d said he didn’t have any feelings for Cyn.

  Chapter 7

  He watched her walk comfortably into his studio; the space was becoming familiar to her and having her in the space was becoming familiar to him. That last part particularly annoyed him. He walked over to his small seat and the envelope he’d left sitting on top of it with her name scrawled across it. Picking it up, he held it out for her to take.

  “For tonight. As promised.”

  “You could have just added it onto my tab,” she replied, looking at the envelope containing the extra fee she’d told him it would be since she’d had to take off of work. There was a moment of silence before she took it from his hands, shoving it in her purse that she quickly set down on the floor by one of the chairs – as if she didn’t want to touch or take his money.

  As if the exchange never happened, Cyn paused to look at the sketches he’d done throughout the week, but also at the marble slab that now had large pieces missing from around the edges.

  “Why haven’t you danced in three years?” he probed. Her body tensed at his question even though her step didn’t falter.

  This time, she didn’t answer. She turned to face him, her shoulders shrugged as she bent down to slip her shoes off. His breath caught as he was sure the movement would allow the straps of her dress to fall from her shoulders to reveal the perfect swells of her breasts to him.

  “What was it?” He tried a different approach.

  Her brow furrowed for a second. “The sugar plum fairy’s solo from the Nutcracker.” It was the one routine she could have danced in her sleep.

  “No,” he said harshly. “What was it that made you stop?”

  “Why do you want to know?” she countered.

  “Close your eyes.” She stared at him questioningly. “Just close them.” She did as he asked. “Remember last night.” He watched her body fight it – the rigidity that came over her. “Remember the smell and the music, remember how your body just began to flow weightlessly.” Following his instructions, her body relaxed as she drifted back into the state of peaceful contentment.

  “I want to know,” he began hoarsely. “Because I saw your face and it had the same look of utter bliss that it does now,” he ground out hoarsely. “The last time I saw someone that happy was when Ellie found out that her cancer was still in remission; it’s the kind of happiness that says that something has changed your life.”

  Her eyes shot open, breaking the spell. “Sometimes, what makes you happy, also makes you weak.” Even though her body was still relaxed, her eyes flared with the decisiveness of her answer. Something… someone… had hurt her and ruined her joy and Sloane had never wanted to kill anyone more in his entire life – which said a lot considering that he had Pierce for a friend.

  “So, what do we do today?” she questioned, changing the topic.

  Sloane slipped out of his jacket as she moved to stand on the carpet. He watched as her body swayed slightly back and forth and knew that she was thinking about the last time her bare feet had glided over the soft material, carrying her away to a place where happiness came as easily as breathing.

  He walked over to his sketch pad, flipping it open to a clean page. Sloane took a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily at the amount of restraint and fortitude he would need for what was going to happen next. But he needed to do it – not just to show her that she wasn’t in control of his desire, but also to show himself that in spite of how potent that desire was, he was, in fact, in control of it – that he wasn’t like his father whose uncontrollable urges had gotten someone killed.

  He suppressed the shudder that wracked his body. Setting his deep blue gaze on her, he instructed, “Take off your dress.”

  Her eyes widened at his command, not because she was shocked at having to do it – no, that wouldn’t be a shock to her – but because she was stunned that he’d actually asked.

  She
didn’t say anything else. Her eyes darkened, a seductive smile slipping over her face as her hands slowly rose to the straps of her dress. She peeled them from her shoulders one after the other, sliding her arms free from their restraints.

  Sloane focused on his breathing, knowing that she was watching him intently. This is what she enjoyed – teasing him, tempting him to go beyond his limits. But, tonight she would learn that that was never going to happen – not for anyone and especially not for her.

  Even though the straps were off, her dress clung so tightly to her lithe form that it stayed perfectly in place. Biting that plump lower lip of hers, he watched as she slid her hands up the sides of her body to hook her thumbs underneath the edge of the dress.

  At that moment, his heart stopped and his breathing ceased – every vital function of his body came to a screeching halt wondering if her next move would either bring him back to life or kill him. Then, the fabric began to slide…

  And he knew it would be the latter.

  Sloane’s blue eyes were as hard as steel as he watched the soft material of her dress begin to drop, revealing inch by perfect inch of snow-white skin. The material stretched as it began to climb over the generous mounds of her breasts. His arousal was rock hard in his pants, but he didn’t care; just because it was there didn’t mean he had to act on it – something that she was going to learn. The damn thing jumped as the dress crested over the peaks of her breasts and Sloane bit into his tongue – tasting blood – to keep himself from groaning. His only saving grace was that she had on some sort of stickies that covered her nipples so that they wouldn’t show through the material. In spite of that, he could see the faint outlines where they stood erect, begging through their coverings to be sucked.