Page 2 of One Wild Ride

“Aria.” His hypnotic eyes, the deep rumble of his voice, held me tight as he knelt in front of me.

“Yes?” I said transfixed.

“Why are you here?”

“To meet A. Hawthorne. Those were my paintings he bought. I just want to thank him.”

Way to spoil everything, Aria.

Where was my usual flirty snark? His eyes were a dangerous drug. If his eyes had the power to get me to reveal my secrets against my will in a dark room, imagine what his hands could do?

My heart stumbled at the thought.

I soon found out their power. He placed his palm on my arm. My resolve obliterated the moment his fingers dusted my skin. And my breath, it withered and died as I leaned into his hand.

He had to feel that. That heat. That electricity. Or did his eyes protect him from such mortal things?

After a moment he rose, letting his hand fall and leaving me desperate for his touch. I suddenly felt the early March air in my bones. It was bitter and unloved.

When I glanced at him, the corner of his mouth ticked up, just enough to bring some of that warmth back.

“I think I can make that happen.” He reached a hand toward me to help me up and I took it. At that point, I would hand over my wallet and perhaps my ovaries to make him smile.

Bradley opened his mouth to speak, but Hypno-eyes halted him with one look.

Those eyes were weapons. Even Bradley did as they commanded. He shut his mouth and let Hypno-eyes lead us out of the room to a set of elevators.

Once we were all crowded into the lift, Hypno-eyes leaned forward and stared at a mirror. The doors closed, and the elevator began to rise.

“Wow. That was cool. Did the elevator just scan your eyes?” Morgana asked.

“Yes. Mr. Hawthorne had his private elevators equipped with the latest security technology,” Bradley said.

“Like James Bond or—” Morgana said before being cut off by Evaleen.

“Or Get Smart.” Evaleen smirked at Bradley. “Let me guess, his shoe is also a phone?”

Hypno-eyes snorted and everyone in the elevator turned with wide eyes.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “What? It was funny. I love Get Smart.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened causing my mouth to drop open. We stepped onto gray-tiled floors and into a small hall with bright white walls. But it’s what covered those walls that had my eyes melting.

Works of art.

Not my artwork, but master works of art.

Stuff I had only seen in textbooks during my art history class at Northwestern. I remember falling in love with Native American art in school. To the point where I studied Native culture and even learned some Navajo.

I stood only inches from paper warped and molded decades before I was born by R. C. Gorman. Fear that my hot breath would wither its beauty but too in awe to move.

“Stunning. How does A. Hawthorne have such a piece? Shouldn’t this be in a museum?”

That’s when I felt the warmth from down in the basement return to my arm. I turned to discover Hypno-eyes and I were alone in the hallway. A large, dark wooden door sat wide-open at the end. Bradley must have escorted my friends away and I hadn’t even noticed.

I should be worried, for them, for myself, but for some reason I felt safe. Those eyes and now, his touch, did strange things to me. Had me reacting to the world in a way I never had before, well, not since I was young. Not since I was innocent of the evils that existed in the hearts and hands of men.

His eyes crinkled with warmth. “It’s much safer here than a museum basement. Most of the collection is loaned from time to time to galleries and museums around the world.”

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