Page 42 of Donovan Blake: Passion

Ignoring her plea, he began landing his hard hand on her bottom with a volley of swift, stinging swats.

“Don’t, that hurts,” she wailed, her thin cotton slacks offering little protection from his hard slaps.

“Not until you promise to stop being such an ungrateful brat.”

“I d-don’t know what you m-mean!”

“What I mean,” he said sternly, pausing his hand, “you were told to wear a helmet so you wouldn’t get seriously hurt if you fell off, and drinking hard liquor—any liquor—too young can have disastrous results. Translation? People care about what happens to you. Do you understand? ”

“Yes, yes, I do, I swear.”

“You are so damn lucky to be born into this family, and it’s about time you realized it,” he continued, landing several slow smacks eliciting a yelp after each.

“You’re right, I am,” she admitted, then to her shock, he pulled her up and wrapped her into his arms.

“Jane Hawthorne, I care about you too, I always have, since we were kids.”

“You do?” she whispered, shifting in his arms and staring up at him. “I’ve always liked you as well, but you were with that girl Tiffany.”

“I’m not now, I’m here with you,” he murmured, sliding his fingers into her hair. “But if you don’t want this…if you don’t want me…just say so.”

“Trevor, I do, so much.”

As he leaned down and pressed his lips on her in a long, lingering kiss, her heart leapt in her chest, and a bevy of butterflies fluttered to life in her stomach.

“Just one thing,” he murmured, pulling back. “Do you understand what will happen if you don’t behave?”

“No, I don’t have a clue,” she quipped with a grin. “Now stop talking and kiss me again.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Waiting for Ari’s return in the greeting room, Alexi stood in front of the empty frame and wondered why the portrait was in such demand. He’d researched the ancestral Lord Hawthorne, and while he was held in high esteem he had achieved nothing to warrant such interest. The odd thing was, he had almost called off the theft. There had been a last minute, unexpected problem.

The team he’d organized to pull off the art robberies had suddenly demanded significantly more money. Enraged, he’d tossed them out with Poncho chasing them to the door. But only because he’d been approached by Craig Carson and Bob Lacey the week before.

The men were eager to become part of his international criminal enterprise and were well established in the London underworld. But they had changed what should have been a relatively simple job into a three-ring circus.

To complicate matters, when word of the robbery leaked out, Alexi had received a call from a highly placed government official, a man named Giles Cavendish. He wanted the portrait, and he would pay with something far more valuable than cash.

Alexi’s nefarious activities would have free rein.

His boats and planes would not be detained or searched, and anyone arrested who worked for him would receive preferential treatment.

“I’ll make sure you remain untouched as much as possible,” Giles had promised. “However, if you sell that portrait to someone else, you’ll find yourself hounded at every turn.”

The politician's offer was one Alexi felt he had to accept. Now he was wishing he’d never even heard of Hawthorne Hall. When he’d contacted David Weiss, the buyer in Switzerland, and explained there was another interested party, the man had doubled his original offer, and made a veiled threat that Alexi’s wealthy clientele would diminish if the painting wasn’t delivered as promised.

Poncho suddenly barked, startling him from his thoughts. Darting his eyes to the door, Alexi saw Ari walking towards him with a grim expression.

“I have bad news Mr. Koslov?”

“Now what?”

“When I was being questioned they said they know you have a buyer for the portrait.”

“They must have been fishing. For starters, I don’t have the portrait in my hands yet, but I will. What did you say?”

“Nothing, not a word, not about anything.”

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