Page 3 of Passion and Revenge

“Wow.” Her breathless exclamation catches my attention, and I glance at her to see her staring at me wide-eyed. “You’re really passionate about this.”

I chuckle. “It called to me.”

She raises her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, and my gaze immediately zeroes in on her fingers. Her hazel eyes follow my gaze and land on her colored hands.

Red blooms across her cheek, and she ducks her head. “Oh my God, this is so embarrassing.”

“What is?” I ask, amused.

She runs a hand through her hair with a sheepish smile. “I’m standing in front of the most gorgeous man on earth, and I have paint on my hands.”

My mouth curls up at her revelation. “You think I’m the most gorgeous man on earth?”

Her pretty pink mouth drops open. “I—I didn’t mean that!”

I place a hand against my heart and shoot her a look of mock hurt. “So you don’t think I’m gorgeous? You hurt my feelings, darling.”

The red on her cheeks blooms, and she bites her lip. “Can I slink away with my tail tucked between my legs, and we can pretend this whole humiliating conversation never happened?”

I throw my head back and let out a bark of laughter, delighted by how open and fascinating she is. A woman like her would be eaten up and spat out in seconds if she came anywhere near my world.

There’s nothing coy or calculative about the way she’s staring at me, and it’s refreshing. I doubt she knows who I am, so I decide I’ll keep my anonymity a little while longer.

“But I’m so thoroughly enjoying our conversation, miss—” I wait for her to fill in the blank.

She grins. “You can call me S.”

My eyes narrow. “S?” Then I turn to the paintings and say, “You painted these.”

The woman quirks her brow. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, if you planned to keep your anonymity by using that pseudonym, you would have had better luck with a less observant person.” I step closer to the painting and point at the tiny letter scribbled at the very bottom. It’s done in almost the same color as the background, so it blends in.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “With the way you’re so good at picking out tiny details, I’m going to take a guess that you’re either a detective or an attorney.”

My smile is all teeth, and I’m amused by her very off-mark guess. “You should stay off the poker table in the future.”

I watch as her lower lip sticks out indignantly. “Are you saying I have rubbish instincts?”

“Absolutely terrible, S,” I say with a grave nod that causes her to laugh.

“Thank you for that observation, kind sir. I’ll stick to painting then.”

I glance at the third painting again. “You’re brilliant with a brush. Not many know how to tell such a moving story with just colors.”

“And what story does it tell?”

Her hair is in her face again, and I take the liberty of helping her tuck it behind her ear, noting the way her breath hitches at the move.

“The painter has found a rage that they never realized lived inside them,” I whispered to her, watching her eyes drop to my mouth. “The rage is raw, dirty, and messy. It’s the kind that turns you inside out and reinvents you. And she’s about to let that rage detonate.”

I don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but it does, and I think she feels it, too. For a second, the world around us seems to disappear until it’s just us, with her looking shell-shocked and me having the sudden blinding desire to kiss her.

CHAPTER 2

Sienna

The sound of a glass clinking nearby brings me back to reality, and I take a careful step away from the striking stranger.

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