The observation, coming out of nowhere, sent a thunderbolt of panic coursing through her.
What the hell has happened to you?
Only Trevor and her mother knew what had happened. Trevor would never betray her trust, and her mother was too self-centred to dwell for too long on her daughter’s emotional state.
With a forceful wrench, she freed herself from Damion’s grasp and gathered every last ounce of willpower to cling to the outward composure she’d battled so damned hard for this past year. The demons she battled in private were another matter.
After taking a few control-installing breaths, she faced him.
‘I’m no longer the wide-eyed, gullible puppy you knew five years ago, Baron. So if you’ve come here hoping I’ll happily wag my tail and pant with yearning for you, you’re sorely mistaken.’
Damion stared into her perfectly made-up face. Two emotions—surprise and an unacceptable degree of surrealism—twisted through him. His gaze dropped to her lips, to the tiny dark mole above her upper lip. For a single uncontrolled moment he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to kiss her or to shake her—another alien concept that added to the absurdity of the situation.
The Reiko he’d known five years ago would have seen her effect on him. She’d have smiled the smile of a shameless temptress then proceeded to taunt him with her body, confident of the inevitable outcome.
This Reiko stared stonily back at him, her gaze dark and hostile, as if she were counting the minutes until he removed himself from her presence.
Damion wasn’t prepared for the hollow feeling the observation left inside him.
‘I never thought of you as a puppy. Feline and exceptionally cunning with it is a far more accurate description. Knowing what I do about your shady dealings, I suspect that trait has come in handy in your profession.’
‘There’s nothing underhand about what I do—’
‘What about your penchant for handling stolen goods? Goods that more often than not disappear before the authorities are notified of their whereabouts?’
Her pert nose wrinkled in distaste. ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read in your fancy art journals.’
‘My sources are completely trustworthy.’
‘If they were, you wouldn’t have wasted your time coming here today. They’d have told you I’m no longer actively involved in the art-retrieval business. I haven’t been for the past eighteen months.’
Her brittle tone, the way she hugged her elbows and held herself rigidly, told him there was something more going on here. But weariness dug behind his eyes, bit into his soul, dulled his senses.
For a single heartbeat Damion contemplated walking away, finding another way to appease his grandfather. The thought dissolved before it was fully formed.
Fortier curse or not, he would honour his grandfather’s wish—even if it meant dallying with the woman who stared at him with eyes that dared and detested him at the same time. A woman who’d proved herself as faithless as his mother and grandmother.
He gritted his teeth as a flash of guilt seared his mind.
He was here today because he’d walked away from his family, from his duty, for a whole year. In his attempt to escape the stark reality of the obsessive compulsion that dogged his family, he’d walked straight into the arms of the very chaos he’d been trying to escape—and destroyed lives in the process. Never again.
Resolve firmed. ‘You’ll find the paintings for me.’
Hazel eyes snapped fire at him. ‘You order me about as if you own me. You don’t, so drop the attitude.’
He allowed himself a whisper of a smile. He now understood why, for such a diminutive figure, her reputation seemed larger than life. She’d obviously developed a blatant disregard for sense or self-preservation.
‘I think there’s been a misunderstanding, ma belle,’ he said in a softer, more conversational tone. ‘You seem to be labouring under the impression that you can bargain with me. But understand this—you’ll use all your resources to find the paintings for me or I will hand my dossier over to Interpol. Let them decide what to do with you. As for your connection with the man who owns this house …’
A trace of colour left her smooth features. ‘What about Trevor?’
‘He knew your whereabouts when I contacted him last week and he lied to me. I’m prepared to let that affront slide if you help me.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘I can easily make life difficult for him if you don’t co-operate. Given the state of his finances …’ He let his shrug finish his sentence.
What little colour there was left her face. ‘He’ll fight you. We both will.’
‘With what? He’s nearly bankrupt. And you recently liquidated ninety percent of your assets. The reason behind that isn’t yet known to me, but it’s only a matter of time.’
‘How—?’
Reiko stopped and sucked in a desperate breath. It wasn’t worth asking how he knew all this about her. The man she’d known five years ago had possessed the same single-minded intensity in his pursuits.
Only then that pursuit had been his unrelenting desire. For her. Not her talent.
Looking into his eyes, she knew he meant every word. And if Damion succeeded in finding out why she’d liquidated her assets …
Renewed panic clawed at her insides. The feeling of being cornered, of being exposed, threatened to fling her into the familiar dark void.
Fighting to keep her fraying emotions under control, she moved away from him, but Damion Fortier’s gaze tracked her, setting her on edge. ‘I never thought you’d resort to blackmail to achieve your goals, Damion,’ she bit out.
‘And I never thought you’d take a lover three weeks after leaving my bed. Let’s agree to be deeply disappointed in each other, cherie, and move on.’
The ice in his tone froze her spine.
‘To sweeten the deal, I’ll even pay you handsomely. Two million dollars for locating both paintings.’
Her mouth dropped open at the astounding figure.
A mocking smile touched his lips. ‘I thought that might get your attention. Listen to your instinct. Take the deal.’
A sense of inevitability settled on her shoulders. Damion was going nowhere. She could fight, or she could take the money. That sort of money could make a huge difference—change the lives of so many. ‘I’ll do it. For the two million. But I want something else.’
Grey eyes darkened with thinly veiled contempt. ‘Of course you do. What?’
‘Invite me to your exhibition.’
‘Non,’ he negated immediately.
Her lips tightened. ‘My talents are good enough for tracking paintings but not good enough for your crowd?’
‘Precisely,’ he parried without blinking.
His insult bounced off her. He wasn’t the first to call her character into question and he wouldn’t be the last. Reiko liked it that way. With people busy examining the glossy, showy shell of her carefully honed character, they weren’t looking underneath to the scars, the pain of loss and the constant fear that lurked there; they couldn’t see the empty darkness in her soul that she battled every waking moment to hide.
She needed the camouflage just as she needed every wit to keep Damion Fortier from finding out just how damaged she’d become.
‘I’ve been out of circulation for a while. If you want me to find your paintings quickly, don’t deny me this lead.’
The lead would also give her the chance to find the final Japanese jade statue she’d been attempting to retrieve. Her client’s last desperate call rang in her ears—one she hadn’t been able to ignore. The digging Reiko had done this past week had pointed her in the direction of a prominent French politician who’d be attending Damion’s exclusive exhibition.
When Damion’s face remained impassive, she changed tactic. ‘Your guest list reads like something out of an art collector’s fantasy. I don’t think I’ll ever get another chance to mingle with people so influential in art or come within a whisper of the famous St Valoire Ingénue collection.’
