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“Take a bath. Wax and shave and do whatever else you ladies do to make yourselves irresistible.” He strides to the door but halts on the threshold. “And don’t wear any undergarments. I’ll see you in the great room in an hour.”
Chapter Ten
The likeness of Evangeline Castle seems to follow me down the hall as I walk behind Mr. Bordeaux, hands clasped at the small of my back. Her portrait is reminiscent of a living entity, the shape of her full lips beholding a secret, the tilt of her stubborn chin urging me to stand my ground, the slits of her knowing eyes taunting me with her own downfall.
Don’t fall for the lion, a phantom voice whispers through my mind.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, because Mr. Bordeaux leads me down another hallway, and I suspect he’s headed toward Sebastian’s studio. Another turn, and we enter through a door, confirming my suspicion.
I’m in the lion’s den, and not even the warning from Evangeline’s ghost can keep me away.
Mr. Bordeaux comes to a stop, and I sink to my knees as he shoots a glance over his shoulder. Tentatively, I raise my hand.
“Yes, my queen?”
“May I have permission to speak, Mr. Bordeaux?”
“You may.”
“Why are we in Sebastian’s studio?”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Yes. Once.”
“I have him on retainer. He’s going to paint your portrait.”
Muffling a gasp, I swallow the burning questions threatening to sprout from my mouth.
Is Sebastian going to paint one of his infamous portraits?
The kind that involve jewels and little else?
Will he be allowed to touch me?
My teeth clamp down on my tongue, slaying the temptation. But God, this rule of not speaking is killing me.
We’re alone in Sebastian’s studio until the door opens several minutes later, hinges almost silent except for the hyper-tuned state of my ears, and a thrill ignites in my veins. There’s no denying I’m excited to see him.
“You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” Mr. Bordeaux says. From my peripheral, I spy him glancing at the expensive watch on his wrist. “And now I’m late for a conference call.”
Footsteps cease moving behind me. Fighting the urge to turn and steal a glance, I focus on the rustic hardwood floor.
“I got held up.”
“You get held up a lot, Sebastian.”
“Find another artist if it bothers you.”
Silence, and then Mr. Bordeaux huffs. “I would if you weren’t the best for the job.”
“The best will cost you.”
“Your fee is already extortion.”
“I don’t want your money this time.”
Mr. Bordeaux gives him an impatient sigh. “What do you want, Sebastian?” My keeper sounds bored as he moves out of sight, and another set of shoes—these the opposite of expensive Italian leather—come into view. I sense the lion’s gaze on me as I study his black and white sneakers.
“I want permission to touch her.”
Mr. Bordeaux’s humorless laugh fills the studio. “Always thinking with your dick.”
“It’s the best part of me.”
“The answer is no.”
“Then you’ll have to find yourself another artist.”
“I don’t want another goddamn artist.”
I hold my breath, shocked by the slip of Mr. Bordeaux’s tongue in front of Sebastian.
“That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”
Tension steals the next few seconds, and I envision the scowl on Mr. Bordeaux’s face because he’s not the type to concede. “Fine, you can take your payment from her flesh, but she’s not allowed to orgasm.”
“You spoil all the fun, Heath.”
“Your cock isn’t on lockdown, so I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself plenty.”
Sebastian laughs. “I’m sure I will.”
My heartbeat ratchets with a mixture of fear and lustful excitement.
“You’ve got three hours. If she’s not back in her quarters by then, she loses a diamond. Same if she comes.” More footsteps, and then the finality of a door closing signals Mr. Bordeaux’s exit, followed by an inescapable silence that’s only amplified by his absence.
Sebastian finally breaks from his statuesque pose, and those black and white sneakers come closer. “I see Heath has worked his usual charm on you.”
“How so?”
He bends, lifting my chin with two warm fingers, and the instant our eyes meet, my lips part on a soundless gasp. “The girl I met six years ago wasn’t so lifeless, even on her knees.”
“Maybe the girl you met six years ago is gone.” I tuck my lip between my teeth as memories of the last few weeks flicker through my mind, beginning with the dungeon.
The cold, isolating space, and the endless burn in my knees as I waited for Pax and Mr. Bordeaux to release me from purgatory. The endless loop of insanity as I prayed for hell to spit me back into a semblance of normalcy. But hell only returned me to the stoic, watchful eye of Heath Bordeaux, and that hasn’t been much of an improvement.
Sebastian studies me, the brilliance of his azure gaze touching on every inch of my face until I’m flushed with heat.
