Page 22 of Canvas of Lies
Nico’s expression tightened, like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. All of his muscles tensed to the point of quivering and the heat of his skin through that thin layer of cotton burned me like a brand.
“The universe hates me,” he mumbled against my chest.
I hooked a leg around his waist and grabbed onto his face with both hands. “No! No, ignore the phone, Nico. That’s an order. It can wait ten minutes.”
A slow smile curved his lips. “Oh, Kitten, I’ll need a lot longer than ten minutes with you. I’ve got a lifetime of fantasies to play out.”
“I don’t know how you can say things like that and then leave me here to suffer,” I said, scowling. “It’s inhumane.”
Nico rolled his hips, watching as my eyes fluttered, smirking at my soft moan. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to punch him or strip him naked.
Probably both.
“Thisthingbetween us,” he said, grinning when I opened my eyes to give him a pointed glare at the innuendo, “I’m done denying it. I want you, you want me. Believe me, this is just a temporary interruption. I intend to finish what we started.”
I shut my eyes again and flung my arms wide with a frustrated groan. “Fine. Go.”
He started to roll off of me, then dropped his head and nuzzled one nipple through the fabric of my shirt. My blood heated back to a rolling boil.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he whispered.
Though I was tempted to flip him the bird in response to that, I managed to refrain, instead simply listening to his footsteps as he left the bedroom. The man was positively masterful. After the intensity of that kiss, I had no doubt that he wouldprove himself an expert in the rest. My entire body had turned to liquid heat—certain parts more liquid than others.
Maybe there was some benefit to waiting until we weren’t angsty, inexperienced teens anymore.
When he didn’t return after several minutes, I groaned and rolled out of bed. I padded into the living room and found him sitting on the couch, frowning at his laptop. He shot me a cursory glance, then focused on the computer screen again.
“Trouble in kidnapper paradise?” I asked, cocking one hip against the doorframe.
“Just one of my monitoring programs,” he muttered, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“Monitoring for what? My father?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and when he looked over again, his gaze lingered on the flesh forced upward to gather just where he’d unbuttoned my top only moments ago. I tried to hide a triumphant smirk.
“Ah. No. Keyword alerts. Mentions of the painting,” he said, distracted, then his mouth snapped shut.
I straightened, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. My arms fell to my sides as I stared at him in horror. “The painting. He took the painting?”
Nico scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “So you do remember it.”
“Of course I remember it,” I snapped, but my frustration was short-lived. “Your father told me that story for the first time when I was eight years old. He found me hiding in the garden after I tore the stupid dress my mother insisted I wearfor some party and he brought me back to the cottage for milk and cookies.”
A swift jolt of grief crossed Nico’s face, and I felt it echo in my own chest. Those moments had meant more to me than any time spent with my father, not that he’d offered much. In the Beaumont home, I’d learned what it meant to be part of a family. It had been my escape, a dream world where love lived on even after tragedy.
“I have to get it back,” Nico said, looking grim and as determined as ever.
“Nicolas Beaumont, you can’t seriously be hoping to bargain me for the goddamn painting!”
“It’s the only way.”
“Look, I know how much it means to your family, and I agree that it absolutely belongs to you. But he’s not going to trade it. Not for me, not for anything. If he took it, he had a reason.”
He shook his head. “He has to. It’s a family heirloom. I have to get it back.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the stubborn look on his face, but everything inside me softened in response to his predicament.
“Oh, Nico. I know it is. But this . . . it’s not going to work, and he’s going to know it’s you.”
