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A stranger caught her eye from across the room. He was tall, athletic, blond. He reminded her in a way of Eric Raine, except that his eyes weren’t the same guileless blue topaz. They were slate gray, older, wiser, more shrewd. They’d seen things. And she didn’t have to use much imagination to figure out what types of things they might have seen—if the way his eyes slid over her curves were any indication.
She looked away, flushed and suddenly very concerned with finding Quill, but this man had long powerful legs and smart but sensible dress shoes, while she was encased in ridiculous heels. They matched the dress perfectly, but good luck escaping any hungry predators. It wasn’t as if she could stun them with her impressive color matching and then escape to safety.
“Hello,” he said when he reached her. His voice was even more cultured than she expected. Somehowhellofelt stuffy and formal after the way he’d just visually undressed her. It already seemed they were beyond that. “You belong to Andrew Drake, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry?” Unconsciously she touched the black diamond collar at her throat. She’d convinced herself no one could tell or possibly know what the collar meant.
Amusement lit his eyes at her confusion. “He goes by Kane at our club. Has he not even told you his name? And yet he put that collar around your throat? How intriguing.”
Oh. Another name of Quill’s to file away. He was moving dangerously close to his own basketball team of fake identities. Drake must be the real one. Marcus’s words about the dragon tattoo jumped to the front of her mind.
“I-I was just caught off guard. Excuse me, I need to go find him.”
The stranger smirked. “I’m sure that you do. And I’m equally sure that you and I will have another encounter later. Perhaps one that involves less fabric.” Another glance down the length of her dress. But he didn’t dare touch her because, as he’d put it, she belonged to Andrew Drake.
This was news to her.
It was somehow horrifying that she’dbelongedto a man for so long without knowing his real name. Even so, Quill was the only name she could mentally attach to him. It wasn’t as if she would start imagining him as Andrew or Mr. Drake. Or even just Drake.
Saskia couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say to the blond man, so she just turned, flustered, and escaped down the long hall away from the party.
As she passed the new exhibit and moved into the echoing silence of the main part of the museum, she chanced a glance behind her. But he hadn’t followed.
A rope blocked the rest of the museum, but she knew her two escorts were somewhere behind it. She found herself angriest at Marcus for the abandonment. Wasn’t he supposed to guard her? The moment someone appeared that she might like to be guarded from, he was nowhere to be found.
She wandered through darkened exhibit after darkened exhibit. The main lights of each room were off, leaving only a dim recessed light above each piece. It felt spooky, haunted. If she were watching this on a screen, she’d ineffectually shout, “Don’t go down that hall!”
Yet down it she went.
Saskia opened door after door after door with nothing but dim spotlights and paintings and sculptures to answer her search. Finally, tucked away toward the back of the museum, she came upon the final door. It opened into a grand gallery which would have been framed in an overwhelming amount of natural light if it were daytime. One entire wall was nothing but floor-to-ceiling windows.
The room was filled with hand blown glass art in all different colors. She imagined many of the colorless pieces prismed into rainbows across the white walls when the sun hit it just right. This room must be lovely in the day. Outside the window, the bustling city below was lit up by street lamps and car headlights and decorative storefront lighting.
She turned, about to give up and go back to the party, when she saw another door at the end of the gallery—almost hidden—tucked away behind a large red glass piece.
Even before she turned the knob, she knew this was the door. Yet she still wasn’t prepared for what she found when she walked through it.
It wasn’t so much the activity being engaged in, as the fact that both men were entirely naked. Sure, they’d gone off the beaten path, but anybody could wander down that same path—as she had.
Marcus was on his knees in front of Quill, the black dragon on his back seeming to ripple as he moved, sucking Quill’s cock with such an expert finesse she had no idea why Quill bothered even trying to teach her how to take his full size. It seemed Marcus was fully on top of that task.
She forgot to be jealous, as she took in the electric eroticism in front of her. Quill’s fingers were tangled in Marcus’s hair while Marcus’s hands gripped Quill’s ass, pulling him closer and closer as if he couldn’t go deep enough for either of their tastes.
Quill looked up, not taking his eyes off Saskia as he came. Marcus’s throat continued to work, swallowing until Quill pulled out of him.
When Marcus stood, he sported his own raging erection.
This room was dimly lit like the others, but nothing seemed dark enough to cover the nudity on display. Though, as she glanced around, she realized it wasn’t just Marcus and Quill who were unclothed. The walls were covered in nudes. A few of them were Quill’s work. The sculptures in the room were nudes as well.
Along one wall was a sofa so fancy and frilly, she wasn’t sure if it was art, or if one could sit on it. It wasn’t roped off, but still she didn’t dare chance it.
“W-what about the cameras?” she blurted. She couldn’t tell if they were on or off. Nothing blinked.
“The museum director turned them off for me in this room.”
Quill must donate a lot and must know the director well for such a large and dangerous favor. It had to violate insurance agreements and employment contracts. She wondered how many millions it had cost to secure that donor perk. It probably wasn’t listed on their yearly membership drive pamphlet....And if you donate ten million you can fuck in front of the art with the security cameras off.
“Come here,” Quill demanded.
