Текст книги "The Gilded Chain"
Автор книги: Lauren Smith
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)
Chapter 24
Remember to breathe.”
Callie had to repeat Wes’s suggestion a few times as he parked his Hennessey in a lot outside an old warehouse building. Her hands were shaking as she climbed out of the car and glanced around. It was eight o’clock and the lack of buildings around this isolated warehouse was a little eerie in the dark.
“Ready?” Wes held out a hand and she took it, grateful to have him to hold on to.
He looked good in his black wool suit. His clothes and his demeanor screamed that he was a powerful dom. She wore only jeans, a t-shirt, and a pair of soft leather cuffs with a fur lining. When she’d asked earlier that evening what to wear, he’d told her to dress comfortably because she’d change at the club and he’d taken care of her outfit, which he’d put in the submissive locker room earlier that day.
She had no idea what to expect. Would Wes want to do a public scene with her? Sure, she’d read plenty of romance novels, but what was this like in real life? What she did with Wes in private was wonderful, explosive, but she was afraid she couldn’t do something in public, not something incredibly intimate. What if he wanted her to be naked in front of his friends or the other doms? They hadn’t talked about that, but she was feeling right now like those might be close to her hard limits.
“Darling, are you all right? You’ve got a death grip on my hand.” Wes gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m good,” Callie lied. He frowned and that look made her instantly regret lying.
“Callie, once we’re inside the club. No lying. That’s important. I won’t be mad at you, even if you tell me you’re terrified. All you have to do is use your safe words. ‘Yellow’ to slow down if you’re uncomfortable and ‘red’ to stop immediately.”
She nodded, relief flooding her. Wes would protect her. All she had to do was rely on him to guide her through the night.
Callie followed Wes as they reached the warehouse. He opened the large wooden door to the inside of the club lobby. Craggy rock walls and sconces with warm gold lights gave the castle a medieval ambiance. There was one red-painted door at the end of the lobby, and a man in a black suit with a red armband stood by the door, checking IDs of the men and women passing into a dark interior beyond. A few people stood in a line in front of a desk where a woman in a pantsuit and black-framed glasses was checking names off a list.
Wes guided Callie straight to the desk as the last couple of people walked away.
“Evening, Aria. I’ve brought Ms. Callie Taylor. She is my submissive tonight. She’s the one I called you about.”
The woman, Aria, was a tall brunette, with powerful but lovely features. With a warm smile at Callie, she shook Wes’s offered hand.
“Ms. Taylor, welcome! It’s about time Wes collared someone.”
Callie shot a glance at Wes. He’d mentioned he would collar her, but hadn’t explained much about doing it at the club. Clearly it was a bigger deal than he’d let on if he was telling people about it.
“Hi, Aria,” Callie said, trying to remain calm, even though her entire body vibrated with nervous energy.
“Call her Mistress Aria,” Wes intoned in that dom voice of his, but he did it low enough that only she could hear.
“Mistress Aria,” she hastily corrected, then squeezed Wes’s hand.
Aria winked at Wes. “She’s cute. I like her. Much better than your previous sub.”
It took everything in Callie not to ask who that previous sub had been, but her gut told her not to.
Corrine. That venomous woman was everywhere.
“She’s all cuffed, I see,” Aria noted and gestured toward the door. “Why don’t you take her to the submissive locker room.”
“Thank you.” Wes and Callie approached the big red door and the bouncer’s eyes swept over her before he spoke to Wes.
“Have a lovely evening, Mr. Thorne.”
Wes chuckled. “I intend to.”
As they passed through into the dim club’s interior, Callie gripped his hand even harder. The massive room was dark but she could still see everything clearly. The brocaded couches, the luscious, old Victorian boudoir feel to the room. The heavy red velvet curtains with gold cords that hid smaller rooms from view in a large circle around the main room. There was a bar off to one side with two men in black leather pants and black t-shirts pouring drinks.
Couches and chairs were placed in various groupings on thick carpets. Music boomed from hidden speakers and people were lounging about, some heavily kissing, others doing a lot more than that. Callie ducked her head, completely embarrassed to see such open sexual activity.
“This way.” Wes led her to a room that had a door with a wooden sign with the words “Submissive Chambers” painted in a flowing gold script. He handed her a gold key on a red satin string.
“Go in there and open locker number eighteen. Strip down out of your clothes and put on what I left in there for you. Then come back out here. I’ll be waiting for you.” The intense look in his eyes sent little shivers of panic and excitement through her. She recognized that look, the one that scorched her like hot lust. He was fully the dominant tonight and yet it didn’t frighten her.
With a little gulp and a flutter of nerves, Callie let go of his hand and pushed the door open. The locker room was not at all what she’d expected. There were benches of dark wood and polished wooden lockers with silver numbers nailed to the front of each locker. Showers and changing rooms lined one wall. There were about ten women inside already chatting excitedly as they casually stripped out of their clothes.
“Hi!” A vivacious dark blonde-haired woman walked over to her. “You’re Callie, right?” the woman spoke as she finished fastening her garter belts to her stockings. She wore a bra and panty set that looked like it came out of a Victoria’s Secret catalog and she had a model-perfect body.
Oh boy. I can do this.
“Yeah, I’m Callie Taylor.”
The woman smiled. “I’m Katrina. I’m here with Royce tonight. He asked me to help you if you need it. I’m his sub, but he said you should stick with us if Wes has to leave you for a while. This is your first time at the club, right?”
“Yeah. This is pretty intimidating.” Her mouth was dry and she swallowed hard. It was one thing for her to be intimate with Wes in private, but maybe she really wasn’t ready to do something so public with him…
“You’ll be fine,” Katrina assured her and then introduced her to the other subs, who were all friendly. Callie wasn’t sure if she’d remember their names. Everything was overwhelming, but it was a relief to know she’d be out there with people who were nice.
“Wes said I’m supposed to use locker eighteen?” Callie glanced around at the numbers and Katrina pointed to the one she needed.
“That’s it. Let’s see what your master left you to wear. It’s lingerie night.” Katrina giggled and snapped the band of one of her garters. “Royce likes this stuff. My last master only let me wear panties, nothing else. I didn’t really like that so much. I’m glad Royce likes to leave some of my body to the imagination of the other doms.” The other subs around them chuckled.
But Callie wasn’t laughing. What if Wes hadn’t left her anything to wear?
Katrina took the key from her and opened the locker, pulling out a lacy black-and-crème-colored bra and bikini panties.
“Classy, yet sexy.” Katrina handed her the items. Callie took them, her hands shaking. She was only going to wear this? Nothing else? Her ears started to ring and she had trouble swallowing.
I can’t do this.
The idea of total strangers seeing her in this…only this? No. She wasn’t sexy like Katrina or the others. She wouldn’t look good in this, and she certainly didn’t want a bunch of intimidating, gorgeous dominants outside to see how pathetic she looked in comparison to the other women. A dumpy girl from a ranch…Yeah, she would stand out in the worst way and Wes would come to his senses and realize she wasn’t the kind of girl he would want to be with. Her stomach clenched and she swallowed down a wave of nausea.
She grabbed Katrina’s hand. “Get Wes, please. He’s outside.”
She leaned against the row of lockers, clutching the items, her legs shaking hard enough that her knees knocked together.
The door to the locker room opened and Wes strode in, Katrina on his heels.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, cupping Callie’s face the second he reached her. Concern darkened his eyes as he studied her face. She wanted to burrow into him, lose herself in his warmth and the protectiveness of his arms. In that moment she would have given anything to be back with him in Paris, just the two of them, or to be locked away with him in the black room. She liked his dark side but didn’t want to have to share herself with anyone but him.
“I can’t wear this,” she breathed, showing him the underwear. “Those other men will see me. I’m not…” She trailed off, unable to voice how she felt. He would be the gentleman and disagree with her about her body, but she knew better. She was no supermodel or wafer-thin socialite. She had curves and muscles and a tiny bit of plumpness.
He sighed heavily, disapproval layering that single utterance of her name. “Callie—”
“Please, Wes.”
As they talked, Katrina ushered the other subs out of the room, leaving them alone.
“All right. Let me go grab something else. Put these things on and I’ll bring something to put over them.” He brushed a kiss on her forehead and left.
With trembling hands, she peeled off her shirt and jeans. Then she put her clothes in the locker and slipped on the panties and bra. They were lovely, but she couldn’t let other men she didn’t know see her like this. A metallic taste filled her mouth as panic struck again.
“Here.” Wes came back into the room and handed her a large white dress shirt. “You may wear this over the outfit I selected, but that is the only concession I will allow.” His tone was dark and she knew she couldn’t argue out of this.
“Thank you,” she said. As soon as she slipped his shirt over her body, she relaxed. This she could live with. It dropped to her upper thighs and hinted at her curves rather than flaunted them.
His palm smacked her ass and she jumped. “Thank you, Master,” he corrected. “Now come along. It’s time to collar you.”
* * *
Wes’s heart was beating fast. Callie looked so delicious, so perfect in his shirt and nothing else. Her curvy legs and bare feet showed just how sexy she was. He was going to be the envy of every dom in the Cuff tonight. As he led her into the main room, every dom’s focus turned their way. Even the subs dared to raise their eyes curiously. Royce was reclining in an armchair, hands behind his head. Katrina, his sub, was seated at his feet on a large pillow to keep her knees from bruising.
Wes pointed to the floor by Royce, who tossed a pillow down where his friend pointed.
“Kneel, sub.”
As soon as he spoke the words, the doms gathered around them, all their submissives kneeling. Callie tried to mimic their pose as she sank to her knees next to Katrina and kept her head bowed. The cushion made the kneeling pose quite comfortable.
Pride filled him as he gazed down at her. She was his every fantasy.
“Tonight, I claim Callie Taylor as my submissive. She will be my responsibility, and I her master. Any punishments to her must be dealt through me as she now belongs to me.” He removed the collar from his suit pocket and leaned down over Callie.
“Lift your hair, little sub,” he instructed gently.
Her hands lifted and she caught her long honey-gold hair away from her neck. As he fastened the collar around her neck, a little shiver rippled along her skin when he touched her. Seeing his collar on her before had been a thrill, but now it meant so much more. She was his in the most permanent way he knew how to claim her. Normally, during a collaring, a submissive would endure an erotic punishment but it was up to their master.
“Stand, Callie.”
She rose and folded her cuffed hands in front of her and kept her head bent in respect. For a woman new to the lifestyle, she had good instincts.
He tilted her chin up and relished watching the little spark of surprise in her eyes.
“You are mine.” The words were soft, but he knew she heard them by the way a delicate blush pinked her cheeks. The vow he made had come true. He could see in her lovely eyes that she belonged to him in every way.
He couldn’t resist not taking what he wanted any longer. With little effort, he picked her up off the floor and carried her to a nearby couch. Reclining, he settled her onto his lap and curled his arms around her waist, grinning as he kissed away her squeal of surprise. Her lips parted beneath his and he delved inside with his tongue. She tasted sweet, like fruit and something uniquely her own. She melted against him and he let go of his control. He took her mouth, and his hands roamed her body, slipping up beneath the large shirt she wore, exploring her body freely as he staked his claim. The laughter and cat calls from the other doms were distant. His sole focus was on Callie and the way he could imprint her taste in his mouth.
There was a strange thrill at having a woman here at the club who was truly his, one he owned in a way he’d never had before. She was his, no man could touch her, and he could show all the other doms just what they were missing. Her little purrs, her kittenish sighs, and the wicked way she learned how to kiss him back that caused his trousers to tighten painfully as his body went rigid with need.
“Unless you plan on taking her to one of the private rooms, you’d better slow it down.” Royce’s loud jibe cut through the haze of lust in Wes’s brain.
Fuck. Why couldn’t he enjoy his little submissive?
“Don’t forget the plan,” Royce muttered as he leaned forward in his chair, eyeing Wes seriously. He then flicked his gaze to the Monet painting that hung on a wall ten feet away from them.
Royce was right. He needed to focus on the Monet, not on Callie. She was supposed to be his outward distraction to any in the club who might question him if he came alone.
With a sigh of regret, he got up from the chair and set Callie down on the couch beside Royce. She touched her kiss-swollen lips and smiled foolishly up at him. He loved that about her, the way she lost herself to passion and to him so easily and embraced every wonderful second of each kiss.
The sooner I catch the Illusionist, the sooner Callie and I can go back to Paris.
He stole one more little kiss and made sure he captured her complete attention.
“Remain with Royce. Do not speak to anyone unless they speak to you first. Remember to address doms as ‘sir.’ The subs have cuffs and collars and less clothes so you should be able to tell them apart. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He whispered quietly in Royce’s ear to watch over her before he headed to the back office.
Jaxon was seated at his desk, but then got up when Wes entered.
“Did you see the Monet?” Jaxon said as he gestured for Wes to go back into the main club room. Once there, Jax pointed to a wall across the room. Illuminated by a small horizontal light overhead, the Monet forgery was visible to anyone walking by.
“Yes, I saw it when I came in. I trust Vain helped to transport it here without any issues?”
Jaxon nodded. “Yes, he was extremely helpful. Kept an eye on it the whole time for me while we moved it here and set it up. I have my cameras on it. Anyone who gets close to it will be watched carefully.”
“Good.” He relaxed. This was the first night. They would give the thief a week to forge the painting in an attempt to make a switch.
“I hope this works,” Jaxon growled. “I want my Sargent painting back and once we find this thief, the FBI assured me they would get to the bottom of it and track down the other paintings this man sold.”
“Don’t worry, Jax. It’s my priority.” Wes noticed Stephen Vain approach Royce. Royce laughed at something Vain said and then waved a hand at Callie and Katrina. Both women got to their feet and walked to the bar together.
Knowing Royce, he’d sent them to get some water. It was important to keep a submissive well cared for. A healthy sub was a happy one, and a happy sub was more pleasing to bed, at least in his opinion.
A man entered the club’s main room through the door and Wes’s entire body went rigid.
Thomas Stonecypher. The man just didn’t know when to stay away. Between the incident at the gala and that attack at the polo match…
“Wes,” Jaxon cautioned, but Wes was already striding toward the other man.
“Wes, don’t.” Jax grabbed his arm, forcing Wes to halt. He spun to glare at Jax.
“What? I owe that bastard a crushed windpipe.”
“Everyone here is a suspect. Even Stonecypher. Let him be. We need to watch him and the others, or else we’ll scare off the thief and this will be pointless.”
Wes jerked free of Jax’s grip and snarled. “Fine.”
“Come on, I need you to help me watch some of the newer doms. You have a sharp eye. I don’t know them that well, and it could be that our thief is a new member.”
“Very well.” He glanced toward the bar again, where Callie was standing with Katrina. With a glass of water in her hand, she was chatting with the woman and smiling. Her other hand touched her collar every now and then, as though to check to see if it was still there. Seeing that made him smile. She would get used to wearing it. He wanted to see it around her neck often.
Yes, darling. I own you. Knowing that made him pleased more than he’d ever felt when he’d brought a submissive to the club. Tonight he’d take her home and prove that. He would strip her bare without a care for her shyness since he’d have her all to himself.
You are mine.
Chapter 25
Well, well,” an acidic feminine voice said, cutting through Callie’s conversation with Katrina.
“Uh-oh, bitch alert,” Katrina muttered.
When Callie glanced over her shoulder, she winced. Corrine was standing there, in a knockout lacy lingerie outfit. Her long skinny legs went on for miles and she could have been a supermodel, except for the sour look on her face.
“Get lost, kitty cat,” Corrine spat. “I have to talk to Wes’s new toy.”
Fury sparked the tinder inside Callie but she held off reacting. This was Wes’s world and she didn’t want to embarrass him. But she still needed to deal with this woman. Her bullying couldn’t go on forever.
“It’s fine, Katrina. Please tell Royce I’ll be back in a moment.”
“Okay.” Katrina touched her shoulder in a silent show of support.
Corrine seemed to wait for Katrina to be out of earshot before she went into her verbal assault.
“How does it feel, Callie?” She emphasized her name like it was a bad taste. “He brought you into my world, where he fucked me for months. Did he tell you? He screwed me on every flat surface in this club. I was here first. It’s my territory. You are just a sad, sorry replacement.” She glanced around with a cruel smile. “The doms are already betting on how long it takes him to tire of you. I’m betting a few weeks. You can’t give him what he needs.” Corrine placed perfectly manicured hands with bloodred nails on her hips as she swept her gaze over the room.
“You are nothing but a temporary amusement. You weren’t the first little innocent creature he’s brought here and you won’t be the last.”
Callie was so furious that she acted before she could think. Gripping her glass of water she tossed it right in Corrine’s face. She let out an earsplitting shriek and lunged for Callie, but suddenly Stephen Vain was there, dragging Corrine away.
“Enough!” Vain snarled and shoved Corrine back and held up a warning hand. “Go back to your master and tell him you deserve ten lashings at the St. Andrew’s Cross.”
Corrine hissed like a wet alley cat, stalked away, dripping water behind her.
“Oh God.” Callie was torn between mortification and the desire to laugh. “I shouldn’t have done that, but she’s—”
“A crazy bitch.” Vain’s raspy chuckle put her at ease.
“Yes, exactly.” Callie sighed in relief. Maybe that was the worst that could happen tonight. She’d faced Corrine and survived.
“Having a good time so far?” Vain asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Oh yes, sir!” She had completely forgotten she was talking to a dom.
He waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’m not that strict. Here, let me get you a new drink, something a little stronger than water. You’ll need it if she decides to come back later when I’m not around.” He leaned over the bar and grabbed one of the bottles of scotch and an empty glass.
“Thank you, sir.” Callie turned her focus back to the room, watching the doms and subs curiously while Vain prepared her a drink.
“Here, drink it up.” He pressed a glass with amber liquid in it into her hand.
She raised it to her lips and downed the whole glass. Then coughed. The drink burned like fire.
“Whoa, easy.” He patted her back.
“Sorry.” She gasped and set the glass on the counter.
“A beautiful woman should never apologize.” He chuckled and walked away.
Callie left the bar and headed back to Katrina and Royce.
“Hanging in there, little cowgirl?” Royce teased. He had put Katrina on his lap and she was kissing his neck and licking his ear. Royce groaned and palmed Katrina’s ass.
Callie ducked her head, too embarrassed to look. She was a little tired and wanted Wes to come back. She knew he was busy keeping his eye on the Monet, though, the real reason they were there tonight.
“Feeling tired?” Royce asked her.
“Yeah, I guess it’s been a long day. Do you think Wes would get mad if I just took a quick nap here on the couch?” She tucked her knees up and curled into the soft, warm sofa cushions.
“No, he won’t. Go ahead, I’ll keep an eye on you,” Royce promised.
“Thanks.” She folded her arms on the armrest and then put her chin on her arms and closed her eyes. Just a short nap, that’s all she needed…
She sensed him before she heard him. The warm breath on her face and the heat of his body as he leaned over her. It was a struggle to open her eyes. She was still tired, but his voice stirred her awake. Her skin tingled where he touched her, his palm brushing her hair as he whispered her name.
“Callie, darling, time to wake up.” Wes stroked a hand over her hair.
“What? How long was I asleep?” She blinked rapidly, slowly trying to bring Wes into focus. Her stomach gave a strange little twist, almost like a cramp, and her head felt a little fuzzy.
Wes was leaning over her. He’d removed his suit coat and his sleeves were rolled up. Her throat went dry and a pulse began to beat between her thighs. He looked sexy as hell and seeing him so informal only reminded her of the pleasure in his arms. Wes was an addiction, one that would never be cured.
“You’ve been asleep for an hour. Royce didn’t want to wake you. The club is closing soon.”
Brushing her hair back from her face, she sighed. “I’m sorry, Wes.” When she sat up, the world spun around her in dizzying circles.
“Are you okay?” He picked her up off the couch and set her on her feet. That only made it worse. Everything spun around her even faster and a wave of nausea made her buckle over.
“Wes…I don’t feel so good.” She clutched at her stomach, moaning. Everything seemed to be spinning and she couldn’t catch her breath.
“You have had a stressful day. Let me take you home.” He caught her behind her knees and back to lift her into the cradle of his arms.
The jarring movement of his steps made her sick, so she closed her eyes again, hoping to quell the sudden sickness. Her blood pounded hard in her ears and the entire world swayed around her like she was the one off balance. It was hard to think. Panic swept through her as she fought to stay awake.
“Just rest.” Wes’s distant voice came to her through a dark tunnel thick with fog.
“Wes, I can’t…move.” The last word was barely a whisper, one she could barely breathe. He hadn’t heard her. She was…fading into darkness.
* * *
The tires of the Hennessey Venom GT screeched to a halt inside his garage as Wes threw the car into park and launched himself out of the driver’s side. He shouted for his butler as he wrenched the passenger-side door open and bent over Callie. She was unconscious and had been for a while—how long, he wasn’t sure. Her exhaustion and disorientation in the club were a warning he’d almost ignored. When she’d passed out completely in the car and became unresponsive, his trepidation had increased.
Arms around her limp body, he lifted her into his embrace and called for Bradley again, his voice ragged as he clutched her tighter to him. His legs moved of their own volition until he found himself in the room they’d made love in earlier that week. The warmth of that memory was overridden by a blind panic he couldn’t quell.
Callie didn’t stir as he carried her. No murmur from her soft lips to tell him she was still here, still with him—just silence that was swallowed by a wave of pure fear.
“Bradley!” he shouted. His butler didn’t answer. That was unusual. Where the fuck was Bradley? He had the uncanny ability of always being present whenever Wes came home, but not tonight.
Wes settled Callie on the couch and put a pillow under her head, then brushed his hand over her face. Her forehead was cool to the touch and a fine sheen of perspiration coated her skin. Something was wrong with her…He headed for the intercom and pressed the button.
“Bradley, I’m in the old study. I need you straight away. Callie is sick.”
Sweat coated his palms and blood pounded in his ears. He turned back to Callie and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. He was going to call an ambulance. She could have food poisoning or the flu. She needed immediate medical attention.
A familiar clicking noise from behind him froze him in place. He knew that noise, heard it in his nightmares.
A gun being cocked. Then there was only that roaring silence, broken only by the uneven breath escaping his lips.
“Put the phone down,” a cold voice instructed.
Wes slowly lowered the phone, his heartbeat racing. Each beat hit him as hard as a cannon. He’d been caught off guard. Every single lesson Hans had taught him didn’t matter now. It was too late. He’d sworn twenty-five years ago that he’d never be careless, never let his enemies find a way to get to him. But he’d grown careless. He’d been lost in his obsession with Callie and hadn’t seen the danger until it was too late. A metallic taste filled his mouth as he struggled to fight off the panic. Callie needed him to survive this so he could save her.
“Here’s how this is going to go. You give me the real Monet and I’ll tell you what she’s been poisoned with so you might be able to save her.”
“Poisoned?” The word escaped his lips through gritted teeth.
“Yes. I thought you might need the proper motivation to cooperate. Slipping her something in her drink while I was at the club was an easy solution. How does the saying go? Only fools fall in love? Consider yourself a fool.”
The confirmation that Callie had been poisoned hit Wes in the stomach, a quick jerk of his body involuntarily loosened his grip on the phone and it crashed to the floor with a dull thud. He didn’t care about the phone. All he cared about was Callie—his one darting glance down showed her unmoving body on the couch, pulling at his insides like a black hole. He would do anything to save her.
“Turn around and face me.” The voice, so dead and cold, was almost silky, like the skin of a snake.
He did as he was told and faced the man who’d threatened the only one who truly mattered in his life.
“It’s you?” He couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t Thomas Stonecypher. He’d thought it had to be. No one else had a grudge against Wes like he did. No one, except…God, I’m a fool. How did I not see what was right in front of me?
Stephen Vain III stood in the doorway and held a Beretta, aiming at Wes’s chest. He wore all black and his hands were gloved.
“Hello, Wes.” He flashed a crooked smile and leaned against the doorjamb, relaxing now that Wes was facing him.
“Vain, what are you doing?” Wes asked.
“Getting revenge.” Vain shrugged. “I lost the Camden board position because of you. The auction house was perfect to clean the money—after all, who would suspect a world-class auction house was trafficking stolen goods? After you recommended Peter Wells to the board, he got appointed and convinced the other members to make me resign. I couldn’t maintain the lifestyle I’d grown accustomed to, not when fencing the art became that much harder. I lost my advantage—and that means I lost a lot of money. Someone has to pay for that. What a shame for you to have to get so close to her, eh?” Vain waved the gun toward Callie’s prone form, his cocky attitude riling every violent instinct inside Wes to attack, but he held still. Saving Callie was his priority and he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what Vain had given her. “But if it hadn’t been her, it would have been someone else you loved, like that sister of yours.”
Wes’s fists clenched at his side. “Tell me what poison you gave Callie.”
Vain ignored him and suddenly glanced down the hall. “I’m here.” He spoke to someone outside the study.
Wes tensed, prepared for another man with a gun. But it was Corrine. She joined Vain and kissed his cheek before looking at Wes.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re surprised.” She smirked, and the iciness of her eyes sliced him to the bone. “I never really wanted you. It was only your art. Speaking of which, where is the Monet, Wes?”
“Back at the club.” He clenched his hands into fists, afraid to move. He shot a glance at Callie on the couch. “Go back to the Cuff and take it. I don’t care. Now tell me what you gave Callie.”
“She doesn’t have much time left,” Corrine added gleefully as she studied her watch. “Now stop lying to us. I heard you talking in the barn today. I know the real Monet is not the one you sent to the club.”
“The clock is ticking, Wes. The Monet or your woman. You can save only one.” Vain flicked his gun barrel at Callie.
Only one? The one piece of art he’d protect at all costs. It was an easy choice. Callie was the only masterpiece that mattered. Everything else he owned could be given away in an instant, so long as Callie was still his, and still alive. Needing her above all else was deeper than an instinct, deeper than any basic urge to have her. Like a light shining through heavy storm clouds, he understood that now. She didn’t exist to complete his soul, to make him a better man. No, he existed to complete her, to give her everything in her life and make her dreams come true. It was his true purpose, the direction his life had meant to go and Vain would not rob Callie of her future.
