The Sinful Art of Revenge

Chapter EIGHT


JAPAN IN LATE FEBRUARY was beautiful. As a native, she was deeply biased. But even the most critical eye couldn’t fault the impending promise of spring, the fresh, crisp air or the general buzz of renewed energy in the people around her.

‘Arigato.’ She took her passport from the immigration officer and made her way through the VIP exit of Itami Airport, very conscious of the imposing man beside her.

Reiko breathed in deeply, her sense of homecoming so acute she stopped in her tracks just outside the doors leading out of the airport.

A warm hand arrived at her back as Damion stopped beside her. ‘Are you okay?’

Keeping her gaze averted from his heavy, puzzled stare, she nodded. ‘Better than okay. It’s good to be home.’

In the twenty-four hours since she’d dropped her bombshell, she’d felt that look over and over. Even when she’d pretended to be tired during their flight and sought the insanely luxurious comfort of the private jet’s divan, she’d felt his gaze on her.

What surprised her was that he hadn’t tried to prise the information out of her the way he’d tried to dig into everything else in her life.

The thought that he’d lost interest that quickly, that he was willing to move on to another, more palatable target, should have pleased her. Instead it reminded her again of how easily he’d walked away five years ago.

She pushed the painful thought to the back of her mind as a black limousine swung into the kerb in front of her.

Again she felt the heat of Damion’s hand as he pushed her towards it.

‘Wait—what are you doing?’

A droll expression flashed across his face. ‘I thought it was obvious. We’re getting into the car.’

‘You may be. I’m not. I’ll get a taxi. My apartment is only ten minutes away.’

‘You’re not staying at your apartment.’ His hand propelled her towards the car.

‘Don’t tell me—you just happen to own a penthouse suite in town, right?’

‘Naturally. I do a lot of business all over Japan. Besides, we have an agreement. Until the painting is in my possession, you remain with me.’

When her contact had informed her that he’d traced the Femme sur Plage to a Japanese collector, she’d hoped for a quick dissolution of their association. Instead his insistence that she finish the job had brought a foolish little bubble of pleasure even as the fear that he would uncover her secrets grew in direct proportion.

‘So if I had to go and feed my imaginary goldfish, you wouldn’t let me go?’

‘I’d come with you. I’m quite interested to see these fish for myself.’

She laughed. Just like that. The action took her by surprise. It seemed to take him by surprise, too, because his eyes widened right before a smile lifted his sensual mouth.

Reiko let herself be propelled forward. The driver opened the door for her. Just before she got in, she felt Damion move closer. His breath brushed against the shell of her ear. ‘I also haven’t forgotten that bombshell you dropped last night. You now owe me several explanations, ma fleur. So you’re not going to get away from me that easily.’

Icy dread snapped through her as she slid into the car. He got in behind her, his gaze intent on her face as the limo joined the smooth traffic.

Several emotions were coursing through her, none of which she could readily vocalise. Finally, she glanced at him. ‘I thought you’d given up on m—on pursuing that particular subject.’

The smile that curved his sensual mouth held the steel of determination. ‘Last night you were tired and distressed and clearly needed a reprieve. Don’t mistake reprieve for uninterest. I haven’t given up on you. Not by a long shot.’

Her breath quickened and she called herself ten kinds of fool for not running in the other direction. Once Damion knew the true extent of how damaged she was, he would be the one doing the running. Of that she had no doubt.

‘This boundary thing isn’t really a problem for you, is it?’

He grinned, flashing even white teeth that made him look years younger than his thirty-five. It also caused her heart to skitter in her chest like a rabbit on steroids.

‘Five years ago our chemistry was insane. Despite your curious desire to run from it, it’s still there. What you said was equivalent to tossing a grenade in my lap. Do you blame me for wanting to do something about that? What would you do in my place?’

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. ‘I’d chuck it out the nearest window and run like hell.’ Recalling just what it was they were discussing, she sobered. ‘I don’t know why you’re intent on pursuing this, but I’m truly not the woman you knew five years ago, Damion.’

His smile slowly faded. ‘No, you’re not. But perhaps I may have misjudged you.’

She felt a sharp kick under her ribcage. ‘You didn’t. I took your money—’

‘Then promptly gave it away to charity.’

Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut. ‘Don’t make me out to be a paragon, Damion. I’m as contemptible as you think I am.’ The things she’d done after he’d walked away …

He inhaled sharply. ‘We’ve both done things we’re not proud of, but nothing is unforgivable.’

The sudden lump in her throat made talking impossible so she just shook her head. When the pressure of his gaze got to be too much, she looked out of the window. Immediately she felt soothed by Kyoto’s familiar landmarks.

The Imperial Palace and the Nijo Castle, even the mild stench from Nishiki Market imbued a sense of homecoming so strong, tears threatened.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Damion’s deep voice roused her from musings.

As if on cue, her phone buzzed with an incoming message. With relief, she activated it and read the message.

‘We’re going clubbing.’

He paced the vast living room of his penthouse, forcing himself not to check his watch for the umpteenth time. They were supposed to have left fifteen minutes ago.

The last thing he wanted was to go out, especially in light of the latest morsel Reiko had revealed. What he really wanted to do was lock her up in a room and interrogate her until every last secret she was hiding was out in the open.

But he knew he couldn’t do that. Thoughts of Isadora intruded. The hard stance he’d taken when he’d discovered just what she was hiding from him had reaped disastrous consequences. He couldn’t afford to do that with Reiko.

Why is this so important to you?

Damion shied away from the persistent voice and glanced at his watch again.

Why was she taking so long? What was so damned special about where they were going that she had to make this much effort with her appearance?

Recalling the smile on her face after she’d read the text, he clenched his jaw. Without realising he was moving, he stood in front of her door, his fist rapping on the polished wood.

She pulled the door open. ‘Hold your horses. I’m ready …’

The sudden drumming in his ears drowned out the rest of her words.

Her dress was blood-red threaded with gold. The high collar and wide, long sleeves clearly lent themselves to a traditional geisha look that was destined to ensnare the interest of every red-blooded male with a ten-mile radius.

But it was the plunging neckline that hit him like a punch in the solar plexus. The very smooth, very tempting slopes of her breasts made heat surge through his groin. He felt himself harden long before the seductive scent from her sinfully voluptuous body reached his nostrils. His fist suspended in the air, he swallowed thickly.

‘Damion?’

‘Oui?’ he managed past the haze of lust that threatened to unman him.

She licked her lips and his fever rose another dangerous notch.

‘I said, are you okay?’

He felt his frown return, but this time impatience at being kept waiting had nothing to do with his pique. ‘Naturellement. Why shouldn’t I be?’

When she shrugged, his gaze fell back to the semi-exposed curve of one plump breast. ‘Are you wearing a coat over that dress?’

Her perfectly plucked brow rose. ‘It’s warm out. I don’t need a coat.’

He wanted to argue with that but held off. ‘Bien, let’s go.’

He was about to turn and head for the door when her saucy smile stopped him in his tracks.

‘Quoi?’

‘You probably don’t play poker, but if you ever decide to take it up, I think you should know you have a tell.’

‘A tell?’

She nodded. ‘You slip into French when you’re agitated. Although why you’re agitated right now is beyond me.’

‘Is it?’

Damion deliberately let his gaze drop to linger over her face, her red-painted mouth, her sinfully delicious cleavage. He took his time, let his eyes feast on her. Then he met her eyes. Her skin held the distinct beginnings of a flush.

Remembering the way her eyes darkened when she was aroused, as they were doing now, he swallowed hard. ‘Now that we’ve established the reason for my agitation, shall we go?’

‘I … of course … but …’

‘No more buts. You’ve thrown enough obstacles in my way. Let’s go and get this over with. Then we’ll deal with the buts.’

‘I’m sure there’s a saying somewhere about arrogance and bullheadedness.’

‘We can add it to the many subjects to discuss later.’ He held out his arm to her. After a second’s hesitation, she took it. Satisfaction oozed through him. When her fingers found his forearm, Damion’s pulse jumped.

Within seconds each and every muscle in his body tautened with need. He’d woken up this morning in the same state, his senses on high alert, as if held on a knife-edge of heady possibility.

A part of him still resented her for taking another man to her bed so soon after him. But he’d realised during the course of a long, restless night that he risked hypocrisy since he’d done the same with Isadora mere weeks after leaving Reiko.

The whole situation between them had been handled badly. He aimed to fix it.

As for that nonsense about being incapable of having sex … Reiko oozed sex. If she thought that would throw him off, she would find out just how mistaken she was.

Reiko Kagawa wanted him with the same intensity he wanted her. And he intended to make her face the reality of them tonight.

The nightclub was located in Gion District, famous for its geisha interests. One look out of the window at the row of shabby warehouses and Damion was ready to tell the driver to keep driving. The grunge-wearing clubbers were so far removed from the members of the private gentlemen’s club and the exclusive social circles he moved in it was beyond hilarious.

His gaze swung back inside the car when Reiko sat forward and rapped on the closed partition.

When his driver pulled over, Damion frowned at her. ‘What are you doing?’

She ignored him and went for the door handle. ‘We’ll walk from here.’

‘No, we won’t. This is a dangerous neighbourhood.’

She merely raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Scared?’

‘Selectively risk averse.’

‘Club Caramel is just around the corner. If you pull up in a money-bags car like this, we won’t be allowed in.’

‘That makes no sense whatsoever.’

‘I know, but trust me.’ She flung open the door and stepped out.

Damion’s gaze dropped to her feet and he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she’d chosen more sensible-heeled shoes tonight. Although the red ties criss-crossing their way up her firm calves to end in saucy little bows made breathing an extremely trying exercise. Just as the thought of abandoning his car exercised any common sense.

He followed her out, but before he could question her she’d dismissed his driver and was pulling him along the kerb.

‘Now, remember what happens in Fight Club …’ She reached up and sank her fingers into his hair, and the rest of her words dissolved under the force of desire that punched through his gut.

‘Qu’est que tu fais? What are you doing?’ he translated hoarsely when he noted he’d lapsed into his mother tongue.

She continued to muss his hair, teasing her fingers through it in a way that turned him on so hard he barely bit back a growl.

He firmly took hold of her wrist. ‘I’m perfectly presentable.’

She looked him up and down. ‘That’s the problem. You look like a billion dollars.’

‘Only a billion?’

Her brown eyes rolled. Damion knew his libido was in danger of skidding way out of control when he remembered just how sexy he found that.

‘I know you’re worth several more. I just don’t want to advertise it.’

‘And making me look unkempt is your answer?’ he asked.

‘I’m aiming for grungy rich, not filthy rich.’

‘Your contact has something against money?’

‘Only the need to part you from as much of it as possible once he realises who you are.’

He started to shrug, but stopped when she placed her hand on his chest.

As usual, the simple act of her touch on him had the effect of stopping him dead in his tracks. He tried to breathe but only managed an inadequate puff.

She tugged up the collar of his leather jacket. ‘Okay, you’re ready.’

He nodded, unable to tear his eyes from her glossy lips.

‘Oh, and, Damion …?’

‘Oui?’ he rasped.

‘Let me do the talking, okay?’

Reiko sipped her drink and tried not to look to her right where Damion, the buttons of his jacket open to display his broad, black-shirted chest and entirely too-sexy body, was indeed letting her do the talking—albeit in a very distracting way.

When his forceful stare got to be too much, she swung her head towards him and raised her eyebrows. What do you think you’re doing? A slow, supremely sexy smile curved his lips and he stretched back further in his seat, his arm moving lazily along the back of it. His fingers grazed her arm, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Opposite her, Yoshi Yamamoto, her friend and contact in all things art, smirked.

‘What are you smirking at?’ she demanded in Japanese, desperately willing her pulse rate down.

His smile widened. ‘I’ve known you since you were six, Rei. I’ve never seen you this rattled by anyone—let alone a stuffy ex.’

Heat crept up her neck and she was thankful the club was dark enough to disguise it. ‘Shut up! I’m not all shook up. And he’s not stuffy. He … he’s French.’

‘He also looks like he can drop a few million on some German art I’ve come into possession of. Care to broker a deal? I’ll split the commission with you.’

‘He’s not interested. And don’t underestimate him. He’ll see right through you.’

He grinned. ‘Wow, you’re defending him. I guess it’s true what they say—there’s a thin line between lust and lust.’

‘That’s not what—’ She huffed. ‘I didn’t come here for you to take cheap shots at my personal life, Yosh. Do you have the information I need?’

Yoshi sobered and nodded. Beside her, Reiko thought she felt Damion stiffen, but when she slid a glance at him, he looked as relaxed as ever.

‘It surfaced again a few weeks ago, when lover-boy here started hunting for it. Word on the street is he’s willing to pay whatever it takes to get it back.’ His gaze drifted to Damion and returned to hers. ‘I guess him being here confirms it?’

Reiko waved away his interest. ‘Why didn’t you call me?’

He frowned. ‘You told me you’d retired.’

‘Do you have the buyer’s details?’

Yoshi tapped his phone. ‘I’m expecting a call in the next fifteen minutes with that information.’

A provocatively dressed woman approached their table and sank down next to Yoshi. She played with his hair and he absently rubbed her thigh. But the woman’s gaze kept straying to Damion, and the very keen interest in her eyes made Reiko’s insides clench with a powerfully dangerous emotion.

Recognising it as possessiveness, she felt her breath snag in her throat. She darted her gaze to Damion, fearful he’d somehow guessed, and found him watching her with focussed intensity.

‘With the crazy currents flying between you two, I’d say get a room—but, since this is a respectable club, why don’t you go dance with your man before I drown in all that sexual tension?’ Yoshi said suggestively, his tone amused as he pulled his girlfriend closer into his lap. ‘I’ll come find you when the call comes.’

‘I think that’s a great idea,’ Damion replied in perfect, exquisite Japanese.

Reiko gaped at him. Yoshi’s laughter and his ‘Well played, my friend’ barely registered because she was frantically replaying everything she’d said since they got here.

Oh, God!

When Damion caught hold of her wrist and pulled her up, she followed him onto the dance floor, still in a daze.

His amusement as he pulled her close finally loosened her tongue.

‘You. Speak. Japanese. It’s epically sneaky of you not to tell me.’

‘I told you I do a lot of business in Japan. And I think you know me well enough to know I don’t like to relinquish the upper hand.’

‘You still could’ve told me you understood everything I said back there.’

‘You told me to let you do the talking, remember?’

She had no answer for that. She was too busy kicking herself for making assumptions where Damion was concerned.

A particularly energetic couple danced close. Damion caught her around the waist and lifted her out of their way. ‘So … I’m not stuffy—I’m … French?’

Heat stung her cheeks. ‘I was trying to be polite. I shouldn’t have bothered.’

‘What would you have called me if you knew I could understand you?’

‘Arrogant, opinionated, pushy as all hell.’

Low, deep laughter rumbled through his chest. This close, she could feel the heat rising from his body. And the ease with which he moved.

Damion Fortier, the French aristocrat she’d assumed wouldn’t fit into this strange, alternative world, danced just as in her dream. The grace and precision of his feet as he moved to the beat, the supple abandon in his hips and the arrogant confidence with which he danced soon drew eyes to them. Remembering how heated their dance had become in her dreams, Reiko felt her insides clench with need.

She tried to look away from him but found she couldn’t. His sheer animal magnetism held her captive.

They danced for what seemed like hours but in reality was barely ten minutes.

‘You’re exceptionally good,’ he murmured against her ear-lobe. ‘I should’ve taken you dancing five years ago.’

The reminder had the effect of cold water thrown in her face. ‘You should’ve done a lot of things five years ago.’

She stepped away from him but Damion caught her back easily. He ignored her glare and nodded towards the VIP lounge.

‘I think your friend has the details for us.’

On the way back to their seats, his arm came around her and pulled her closer. The heat of him short-circuited her brain. She was still scrambling madly when Yoshi pulled a piece of paper from his pocket.

Damion took it before she could, and thanked Yoshi in flawless Japanese. Struggling to focus, Reiko reached out with the intention of touching her friend—only to find her hand captured in Damion’s. This time Yoshi’s smile held heavy circumspection.

Without breaking off his conversation, Damion tucked her hand through his arm and pulled her to his side. The move felt so familiar and natural she was stunned by the temptation to ease into it.

The power of that emotion frightened her into pulling away. A small frown creased his eyebrows, but aside from that small betrayal of emotion, Damion didn’t react. He carried on talking, but she could tell he was attuned to her every move.

Forcing in a deep breath, she smiled at Yoshi. ‘Thanks for your help, Yosh.’

He waved her away. ‘I owed you for giving me the heads-up about the Qianlong vase two months ago. Consider this a freebie.’

Damion handed him his card. ‘I’m always interested in new pieces. If that German art is all above board, contact my gallery.’

Yoshi let out an appreciative whistle and tucked the card into his pocket. With a wave, he melted into the heaving crowd.

Feeling desperately out of kilter, Reiko headed towards the bar.

‘Tequila.’

‘Make that two,’ Damion ordered, peering down at her with those intense eyes.

When two shots of tequila were slid in front of her, she picked one up and downed it with a shudder.

‘Do you feel better?’ Damion enquired, sipping his.

‘ Nope.’

His features tightened. ‘It’s time to go.’ He guided her out with a hand in the small of her back. His car was waiting at the kerb and she slid in without protest.

As they pulled away, his gaze stayed on her. ‘Did you have a thing with him?’

Her breath caught. ‘With who?’

‘Yoshi Yamamoto.’

‘He’s my friend.’

‘That doesn’t answer my question. It’s very easy. Yes or no?’ A dangerous edge lined his voice.

He’d completely morphed from attentive companion and incredible dancer to an iceman whose eyes threatened to peel the skin from her flesh.

‘The answer is no. I’ve known him since we were kids. We’re just friends.’

‘Good,’ he rasped.

‘So, what? Now you’re jealous?’ she asked, incredulous.

‘I’m a possessive man. I don’t relinquish what is mine.’ He locked gazes with her, the force of his will rushing down on her like a thunderbolt from the sky. ‘Ever.’

The statement, simple in itself, was made with such gravity, such intense foreboding, that it sent a heavy pulse of apprehension through her.

Reiko stared at him, unable to look away despite the dangerous swirling emotions within her depths. He didn’t speak for several minutes. His gaze traced over her face, down her body, to the fingers she was twisting in her lap.

‘I’ve frightened you.’

She let out a hoarse laugh and shook her head. ‘You were intense before—just not this intense. It’s not frightening. It’s …’

‘A turn-on? The thought of being possessed by me again?’

The delicious thrill that went through her shamed and excited her even as she was pushing both feelings away. Damion would never possess her again.

‘Since that’ll never happen again, this is a moot point, isn’t it?’

‘Never is a delicious challenge at the best of times. When it has the discourtesy to come wrapped in something I really, really want …’ The rest of his words dangled tantalisingly out of reach. Then he added a Gallic shrug.

Her unravelling started with a force of melting heat rushing through her. Followed by the stinging puckering of her nipples. Damion smiled, as if he knew the effect he was having on her.

He captured her hand and raised it to his lips. Warm, firm, his kiss branded her.

‘Don’t be frightened, ma petite. This time will be even better than the first.’

‘First of all, don’t call me that. I’m not your little anything. Secondly, nothing is going to happen between us.’ Nothing could. It was impossible. ‘Besides, have you forgotten you have to find a future baroness soon? Tick-tock, my friend. Don’t waste your time on a conquest that has no meaning for you. You should be out there finding yourself a wife before you go extinct.’

Why did saying that scrape her throat and scour her heart so painfully?

His smile didn’t disappear, but Reiko sensed the change in the atmosphere—a sudden chill, as if she’d struck a nerve. Thankfully the car pulled up at his penthouse.

Damion set her free and she alighted.

Once they were back in his penthouse, she turned towards the hallway. ‘I think I’ve stayed up long enough to reduce the worst of the jet lag, so I’ll head to bed now.’

‘Running away?’ he taunted softly.

‘Retreating. Like the very wise ninja that I am.’

‘What’s between us isn’t going to go away.’

‘Wanna bet?’

His jaw tightened. ‘It isn’t a game.’

‘No, it isn’t. Which is why you should let it go. Pursue it and you’ll end up very disappointed. I’ve told you that over and over. Why won’t you listen to me?’

Shrugging out of his jacket, he flung it over the back of a chair. The breadth of his shoulders and the sheer physical power in his movements threatened to further melt her brain. So, despite her intention to retreat, she remained rooted to the spot as he rounded the sofa and grabbed her arms. The heat that never stayed banked when he was near flared to roaring life inside her.

‘Because you haven’t given me a good reason to. What did you mean by you can’t have sex?’ His thumbs rubbed back and forth, causing a low moan to rise within her.

Ruthlessly, she bit it down. ‘Maybe I’m into girls now?’

His rich, throaty laugh made her pulse race faster.

‘No, cherie, you most certainly are not into girls. You’re into men. More specifically, you’re into me. So much so, your whole body vibrates with the sensations I cause inside you. Try again.’

Impossibly, Reiko began to waver. ‘You think you’re so good at this, don’t you?’

He frowned. ‘Good at what?’

‘The relentless battering. You think you can wear me down.’

His frown cleared. ‘We both want the same thing.’

‘No!’ Reiko shouted, cursing under her breath when her voice emerged wobbly and tear-soaked. ‘Believe me, we don’t.’

‘Why? What would happen if you gave in to me?’

‘I can’t.’ She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never survive revealing herself to Damion only to have him walk away from her again.

She trembled when he cupped her face in his hands. Transfixed, she watched his head descend, the promise of his firm, pleasure-giving lips drawing ever closer. She clenched her fists, clamping them to her sides to keep from touching him the way every fibre of her being yearned to.

His lips seared over hers. Her moan broke free. With a soft grunt of satisfaction Damion deepened the kiss, sliding one hand behind her head to hold her in place while the other performed the same task around her waist, bringing her close to his hard, whipcord body. Securing her exactly where he wanted her, he set about giving her a blistering demonstration of just how good he was.

Within moments Reiko’s lips opened beneath his, inviting the bold invasion of his tongue, which he swept through without mercy. She whimpered, the need to touch him a fever raging through her blood.

But at the back of her mind, she knew that was the one thing saving her from giving in totally to this madness. Touch had become her one saviour. Touch grounded her, anchored her to reality. At least it had until she’d met Damion again. Now he’d stripped even that safe anchor from her. Now she knew the moment she touched him she would be swept away. And she couldn’t afford to be swept away—couldn’t afford the wrenching heartache that would come with exposing herself to him.

Sensing he’d lost some of his potent connection, Damion pulled back a fraction. His mouth didn’t completely leave hers but she felt him stiffen slightly.

‘Reiko?’ he rasped against her lips.

‘Let me go.’

‘Did I hurt you?’ His tone held a trace of puzzlement.

‘Please, just let me go.’

‘Tell me—’

‘I’m exhausted. My body clock is on stupid o’clock. I don’t have any fight left in me and I have an early-morning meeting. You can probably push me into telling you my darkest secret, but I’m hoping you won’t because it won’t be a fair fight.’

Slowly his lips left hers, followed by his hands, then the warmth of his body. Regret pierced her heart but she forced herself to accept it.

Regret was good. It built character.

Regret is also a lonely bedfellow.

Shut up!

‘You’ll tell me one day very soon—without the need for torture instruments.’

She finally opened her eyes and returned his passion-heavy stare. ‘You really are cocky, aren’t you?’

He merely shrugged.

‘Okay … umm … good luck with that.’ She backed up until she was inside the door. ‘Goodnight.’

Turning, she fled.