Page 7 of The Collector's Temptation

I decided to give her a little reprieve, though. The last thing I wanted was to scare her off.

“So tell me, what is the reason that brought you here, fortunately for me, into my arms?”

She bit her full bottom lip, and I resisted the urge to nip at it so she would let the plump flesh go. I didn’t like feeling jealous of a fucking mouth. But fuck all if I could help it.Putain. I wanted to feel those lips all over me, not just between my teeth.

I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she studied me, trying to decide whether to trust me.

“It’s difficult to prove yourself in this business,” she admitted. “I’m sure you know that being a junior curator sounds more glamorous than it is. You must have plenty of curators at all levels working for you.”

My chin dipped in response, though I didn’t say anything. She was right to a certain extent. She just didn’t know that those curators I worked with had already proven themselves to The Family. They were assets in our less-than-legal activities in the art world and in the ones above board.

Kerrigan sighed. “Most of the time, it feels like my boss sees me as a cataloger or gofer rather than someone to teach and guide into becoming her equal.”

“Starting out is never easy,” I replied sympathetically. “And the competition to move up is fierce. As much as I hate to say it, many people will do their best to keep others from climbing the ladder because they’re afraid they will be knocked off.”

That was often the case, but I didn’t want to discourage her. Before I could say anything reassuring, she surprised me.

Determination glinted in her eyes, and her voice was firm when she spoke. “That’s why I’ve been looking for an opportunity to prove myself. I can’t just wait around for it to be dropped in my lap. I might be stuck waiting forever if I do.”

My lips curled, and I felt something like pride fill my chest. This woman…it was becoming clearer every moment that she was fucking amazing. And it only fueled my desire and resolve to have her in my bed.

“I don’t want to trample over anyone, but it’s a cutthroat business, right?”

I wasn’t sure if she was joking, but I almost laughed because she had no idea just how right she was.

“So bloodthirsty,” I teased. “A quality I quite admire in you.”

She giggled and shook her head. “It’s not like I’m going to bump off my competition.”

“Bump off?” I repeated, adopting a confused expression. Despite how well I spoke English, it was not my first language. And though I’d heard the phrase—I was in the fucking Mafia, after all—I thought it might be better to play dumb.

Kerrigan snickered and looked at me with a little less suspicion. “Sorry, I should have realized you might not know a slang phrase like that. It means to kill or murder someone. With a sort of Mafia-type ring to it.”

“Ah. I see,” I commented, amusement coloring my tone. “I believe the French Mafia might use the phrasebuter quelqu’uninstead.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I’m not going tobuter quelqu’un.” Then she raised her eyebrows questioningly. “Did I say it right? Or completely butcher it?”

I smirked. “Not bad,miette. With someprivateinstruction, I believe you could sound just like a native.”

She blushed prettily, and I was sorely tempted to kiss her.

But the temptation was interrupted when the song ended. I knew I should let her go and check on Isaiah, but another song began to play. It was slow and sensual, so rather than releasing her, my arms tightened around Kerrigan.

“Tell me then, if you don’t intend to ‘bump someone off,’ how are you planning to climb to the top?” I briefly thought about interfering and lifting her there myself, but I instinctively knew that if she found out she hadn’t earned it, she’d likely be even angrier than if she found out who I really was.

I wasn’t going to test that theory on either end.

Although I was hell-bent on having Kerrigan, I had no intention of letting her anywhere near the darker parts of my life. Especially not the darkness that lived inside me.

But when she answered my question, she threw a fucking wrench into my plans.

“I have a theory about a forgery,” she admitted. “And if I’m the one to expose it, that could snag the attention of the higher-ups. Or even better, private curators. They’ll trust me to add to their collection because they’ll know I can spot a fake.”

“Not a bad plan,miette,” I mused carefully, lowering my head so that my lips brushed her temple when I spoke. “Is this suspected art piece being auctioned off tonight?”

Kerrigan sighed and melted into me a little more, resting her head on my chest. “Yes. It’s theNativity with Saint Francis and Saint Lawrence. There is just something about the story that doesn’t add up.”

Putain de merde.

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