The Game

4

My reflection in the hotel bedroom mirror was the epitome of a young woman putting on a brave face. This Escada gown clung like spun gold to my curves and these delicate fine straps with their diamond beading caught the light; the back so low it hovered just above my butt to blend glamour with a sassy chic.

“Why did you even bring this dress?” I whispered to myself, though my eyes answered with a hope for a reconciliation with Tobias. I broke my gaze, focusing instead on my strappy high heels—the ones Tobias bought me during that wild weekend when we’d stayed at The Dorchester hotel just weeks ago.

My stomach muscles tightened with all the uncertainty.

No matter how cozy this room was with its long velvet drapes or welcoming seating area, it wasn’t home. I’d spent much of the day reading everything I could about Tobias online. Not one article hinted at any misdemeanors or bad boy behavior, unless you counted the socialites he flaunted, hanging off his arm in those glamor shots of him arriving or leaving exclusive social events.

Of all the possible scenarios of my reunion with him yesterday, being placed on a plane and sent back to London within moments of seeing him wasn’t one of them.

Raising my chin high I gave myself a confident nod of approval that I’d handled myself well when he’d tried to push his agenda on me. Turning my thoughts to tonight, I ran my fingers through my auburn locks that I’d styled elegantly to tumble over my shoulders, and I dabbed my soft pink lipstick as I finished applying my makeup.

I couldn’t wait to be inside The Broad and it made me smile to know I was going there now. Grabbing my clutch purse and heading out of my room I had a bounce in my step and I even rode the elevator with my newfound confidence, the residue from my phobia of lifts having eased slightly; because of him.

Gabe was waiting for me in the hotel foyer and his eyes widened when he saw me. “What’s Rita Hayworth doing at the Sofitel?” he called out.

I responded with a confident turn and a flirty flick of my hair.

He looked gorgeous in a snazzy black tuxedo. “Almost didn’t recognize you there,” he said. “No cardigan?”

I gave him a playful thump. “Left it back in England.”

“You look...wow.”

“You look amazing yourself.”

“Let’s go see some art.”

The valet brought around Gabe’s blue Audi R8 and, with the inspirational music of Sia playing as an atmospheric backdrop, we drove along Beverly Boulevard.

“How are you?” He glanced over to me.

“I’m fine. Looking forward to tonight.”

“So what’s this case you’re on?”

“It’s related to a painting my dad once owned.” I mulled over what was safe to add. “St. Joan of Arc was one of the paintings that was allegedly destroyed in my house fire. A few weeks ago, it turned up at Christie’s in London.”

“Maybe he sold it? You were very young when all that happened.”

“There is that.” I preferred to deflect from the fact my father wouldn’t have let any of them go.

The passing scenery was fascinating with its modern skyscrapers in between quaint stores, and there was an unsettling sense of the traffic going the wrong way. I tried not to think that somewhere out there Tobias was going on with his life.

Gabe gave a sideways glance. “Anyone special in your life?”

“No.” I hated to finally admit this. “There was someone but it didn’t work out.”

“I’m sorry.”

I turned to face him. “You’re happy?”

“Ned’s easygoing so we’re a good fit.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “No bad boys, okay? No matter how much we want to jump their bones.”

He made me chuckle.

“Any decent man would snap you up in a heartbeat,” he added.

Half an hour later we’d arrived on Grand Avenue in downtown LA and were pulling up to the striking honeycombed structure of The Broad. Gabe handed over his car keys to the valet and we headed on in.

Within minutes we were sipping bubbly from tall flutes and sighing with happiness at being back in our natural habitat. With over two thousand paintings and sculptures to view we were in our element. This high-ceilinged space with the remnants of daylight flowing through ornate windows and highlighting all this modern elegance.

A waiter took our empty glasses and we rode the escalator through the second-floor ceiling, the design providing a womb-like feel as we ascended. At the top, we were met by an awe-inspiring sculpture by Jeff Koons, a glorious display of enormous gathered tulips in bright colors including gold, blue, purple and green—all lying upon a thin white base.

Strolling into another room, our attention was captured by a three-dimensional design resting on a high table. At one end was a small body of water that burst from a steel container and morphed into a waterfall, pouring into a cavern which turned a large wheel. Beyond that it ran into a small-scale hallway and within its walls shot out vibrant blue miniature electric rays crisscrossing each other.

“What’s this one?” asked Gabe.

I studied the gold plaque on the side. “Mousetrap for the Inevitable.” I read on, “‘Designed to draw out the subject and test its endurance.’”

Gabe stepped forward. “‘Where usually form follows function, here American architect E. B.’s design represents form as art reflecting the power of self-regulation.’”

I pointed to the water forcing the wheel around. “It’s an ingenious mechanism.”

“What happens to the mouse?”

My cringe was my answer as I mused over the kind of person who had invented this. I respected modern art and was thrilled to pass by the striking pieces by Andy Warhol, Cindy Sherman and Barbara Kruger, all of them making my heart soar. We made our way through the well-dressed crowd who’d gathered for the reception. I paused awhile to admire The Balloon Dog, an enormous blue balloon-shaped masterpiece by Koons. It was such a fun piece and Gabe joked how he could only afford the miniature one sold in the gift shop.

He pointed out his young student Terrance Hill, who was greeting guests across the showroom. Gabe shared with me how the young man was fatherless and yet his inspiring talent and determination had earned him a scholarship at UCLA.

Gabe stared on proudly. “Terrance excelled in my art history class but found his true calling is modern art. He has my blessing, of course.”

The bright young star with neat dreadlocks wore the brightest smile, and I guessed the pretty fortysomething black woman by his side was his proud mom.

We headed on over to them to offer our congratulations. Terrance was enjoying his well-deserved praise as private collectors swarmed him, wanting to meet this gifted young man who’d set the art world alight.

His paintings were featured around the walls. Gabe and I took our time to admire each one and I marveled at Terrance’s gift of layering colors and his use of texture. He was being hailed as a young Jackson Pollock and I could see why.

Turning to face the crowd, my breath caught when I saw a vision of pure masculine beauty—Tobias Wilder.

He was here.

Sipping from an amber drink and looking ridiculously sharp in a black tuxedo with his hair predictably ruffled to perfection, so damn gorgeous as he smiled his response to something a middle-aged couple were saying to him. God, now he was doing that thing where he arched his brows as he listened with sincerity, seemingly engrossed in conversation, his left hand tucked into his trouser pocket as he leaned forward to engage with them.

A jolt of reality hit me when I saw his ex-girlfriend and powerhouse attorney Logan Arquette standing beside him. She was wearing a pretty green gown and her usual cold glare.

My body froze when Tobias’s stare found me in the crowd and his expression reflected intrigue.

“Is that Tobias Wilder?” asked Gabe quietly.

“Yes.”

He snapped his head to look at me. “You’ve met him?”

I managed a subtle nod, though kept my stare on Wilder.

“Where?” Gabe sounded incredulous.

“London. He’s a client of Huntly Pierre.” A quick glance over at Gabe told me that placated him.

I wondered how Tobias felt about me evading his driver yesterday.

Gabe grabbed my arm. “He’s coming this way.”

Tobias and Logan strolled toward us, confidently nodding here and there at the other guests who parted respectfully for them.

My back straightened as they neared us and I decided to go with a customary, “Mr. Wilder, nice to see you again.”

Gabe flashed me another look of surprise.

Tobias gave a warm smile. “Zara.”

A seductive chill spiraled up my spine and I went for my best stony-faced expression to match his amused demeanor.

Wilder wore that dazzling suit as though some artisan had carved it over his muscular physique to highlight his firm chest and broad shoulders, and his grin widened just enough to hide that he was strategizing.

“It’s my pleasure to introduce Professor Gabe Anderson, art historian.” I gestured to them. “Tobias Wilder and Logan Arquette.”

“Nice to see you, Zara.” Logan’s tone lacked sincerity and she looked triumphant as her arm wrapped through Tobias’s in a blatant gesture of possessiveness. Her flirting was being used against me to lessen my resolve.

“Quite the exhibition,” said Tobias.

Gabe responded with praise for Tobias’s own gallery and he told him how much he loved The Wilder’s reputation for its exclusive exhibits they were famed for.

“We have something very special coming to The Wilder.” Logan zeroed in on Gabe. “It’s something you’ll find particularly appealing if you love history.”

“Top secret for now,” added Tobias, fixing his attention on me.

The full force of his power hit me and his stare held me captive.

A memory flittered through my mind of the way he’d once touched me; a mesmerizing strength and tenderness and there came a stark recollection of the way he made me come so very hard.

Think about something else.

Anything else.

Why did he have to look at me like this? As though we weren’t over.

“Please excuse me,” I said. “There’s a Doug Aitken piece I’m dying to see.”

I felt rude for leaving Gabe with them, but I needed to put distance between us. Tobias’s glare was burning my back as I walked into the next room. Avoidance was probably the best way to get through tonight.

I willed myself to concentrate on the gold plaque before me. The word now had been enlarged to a three-dimensional wall model and was filled with a collage of images.

The last place I wanted to be was in the now.

“Zara.” Tobias’s voice exuded a deadly seduction.

A jolt of uncertainty trailed up my spine.

He stood a few feet away. “You look beautiful. I love that dress on you. I’m glad you wore it tonight.”

I wanted to believe his words were a peace offering but the way his fierce gaze held mine reminded me of our goodbye outside The Wilder. He had that same look now in those green eyes.

I turned to go. “I have to find Gabe.”

He reached out and held my wrist. “Dance with me.”

He was torturing me with physical contact; his firm touch reminding me what I’d lost, his sensual grip dangerously persuasive.

“I can’t.”

He arched a brow. “You moved on fast.”

“Gabe’s a friend.”

“I was worried I’d have to challenge him to a duel.” He grinned devilishly. “Have you any idea how stunning you look?”

Evidently he knew how gorgeous he looked too, because he was using his magnetism to manipulate me into spending more time with him.

“Boundaries,” I said firmly. “What does that word mean to you?”

“In what respect?”

“You broke into my hotel room and stole my suitcase.”

He came closer. “I believe it was the concierge.”

“Under your orders.”

And he’d tracked down Gabe at UCLA. Seriously, did he expect me to forget that?

“Zara, dance with me.”

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I could say the same.”

“The artist is one of Gabe’s students.”

Tobias gave a mischievous smirk. “Don’t force me to dance with Professor Anderson.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone who’ll fall for your charm.”

“Yesterday, I should have explained myself better.”

I placed my hands on my hips and waited for him to finish his thought.

His frown deepened. “One dance. Or...”

“Or what?”

“Don’t tempt me with refusing, Leighton.” He arched an amused brow. “Or there will be consequences.”

“In what way?”

“I’m still a client of Huntly Pierre. Do it for them. You can always think of England.” He winked.

I relented with a nod and when his hand rested on the lower curve of my spine, I resisted the desire to close my eyes and lean into him as though there was no tension between us. Tobias guided me into a cocktail lounge and led me toward the small crowd slow dancing to Nina Simone, her sultry tones setting the scene for romance.

He pulled me into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

I let Tobias take the lead as I rested my right hand on his shoulder, my left sliding against his right palm, his fingers closing around mine. The way his body crushed against me felt deceptively good and caused my body to tingle deliciously. My nipples further betrayed me by hardening in response to his provocative cologne.

“I think this might be my all-time favorite gallery,” I said.

“What about The Wilder?”

“What about it?”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip to tease him and there came a rush of exhilaration when his pupils dilated with arousal revealing I was having the same effect on him. He waltzed me around and we fit together annoyingly well.

Why couldn’t this be us? Two lovers enjoying a romantic evening without the looming inevitability of this ending badly.

“Zara, you’re intoxicating.” He gave a heart-stopping grin.

“Don’t!” I wasn’t falling for his flattery.

He spun me around and my feet became light as he whisked me along with a smooth glide. He yanked me against his firm chest and then stilled, his mouth lingering perilously close to mine. Our eyes locked on each other as the world fell away. Those specks of gold in his green irises were hypnotic.

His grip tightened. “How’s the Sofitel?”

Adrenaline surged through me. “Lovely.”

He nuzzled close to my ear. “I’m glad you came.”

I leaned back to see him better. “Tell me how to get through to you?”

He tipped me backward and held me suspended in a scooped pose low in his arms as he leaned forward to whisper, “Tell me you want me.”

“Everyone’s watching.”

“Say it.”

“Let me up.”

“Say it first.”

“Tobias, I’m serious.”

“Not until you say it.” His mouth brushed mine.

I nipped his lower lip and he let out a moan of pleasure and flipped me up and yanked my body to his again, his hardness digging in to my lower stomach.

He arched an amused brow. “Now we’re going to have to dance until my dignity returns. I blame you.”

A rush of desire at being in his arms again flooded through me. I was fast becoming drunk with arousal from the way he was holding me so masterfully.

My words spilled out in a flurry. “Mr. Wilder, you misled me—”

“No, Zara.”

“If you care about me you’ll not taunt me like this.”

“Of course I care about you.”

“What is this?”

“I’m forgiving you.”

“What for?”

He looked surprised. “Your sneak attack on me tonight. I’m completely defenseless against you.”

“I have to get back to Gabe.”

“Can I take you out to dinner?”

“So you can send me out of the country again?”

“Technically, you never left.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I will have you again,” he said with an edge of danger. “I know you want that too.”

The room was spinning.

Tobias’s glare fixed on me fiercely as though he needed to see I wanted this. These were the words I’d craved to hear but I was past being led astray. I looked over his shoulder so I could access these remnants of strength that were evading me.

“Zara, you misjudged me. Let me prove it to you.”

No, and my anguished expression told him that. “Let me go.”

And let me go...

He stepped back. “Let’s talk at least.”

I raised my chin high, pretending he had no effect on me. He went to say something but instead he quickly broke my glare.

“I can find my own way.” I rushed from him, needing to put distance between us as my heart shattered. This chill reached my bones and my mind felt dazed from the confliction of seeing him again.

Gabe waved my way to get my attention. “Looks like you’ve swept one of America’s most wanted off his feet.”

“Most wanted?”

“Bachelors,” he said. “Look at him.”

Tobias was standing beneath an archway and he was staring right at me, his expression marred with confusion in a haunting reminder of what could never be.

I spun around to break the intensity of Wilder’s confident stance and faced one of Terrance’s paintings, focusing on the bright canvas while trying to find my center again and fight this wavering desire to believe there could be an us.

The plaque beside Terrance’s painting stated this one was called Unpredictable.

The young artist had seemingly channeled his emotions onto the large canvas. It spoke in ways I couldn’t define. There was freshness to it, a vibrancy and a seeming grasp of pain someone so young shouldn’t know.

Perhaps seeing Tobias tonight wasn’t a coincidence. No, surely he wouldn’t hit a gallery with me here? His words of affection had been used to distract me. He’d used his charm and done his worst to send me reeling. I’d almost fallen for him all over again.

I went in search of him, recalling Icon’s MO and remembering he always cut the power before a heist. He always zapped the security cameras and he always left no trace. With all these guests milling around, the guards were more easily distracted.

I hurried out of the showroom with my chest tight with tension, on through the expansiveness, scanning the many faces of the guests roaming freely as I weaved my way around them.

There he was—

Sitting alone on a wooden bench and people watching, his intelligent eyes taking everything in. He glanced at his watch and then pushed himself to his feet and strolled eastward down a long hallway.

After turning a corner, I saw him standing at the end, casually leaning against a wall and scrolling through his phone. I wondered if this was how he deactivated the security system, by using some gadget app he’d invented.

With a confident stride I headed toward him. He showed surprise when he saw me.

“What are you doing?” I said firmly.

He raised his phone. “You didn’t answer my text.”

“Didn’t bring it.” Because it’s stashed away in a library at UCLA, I mused proudly.

“You should always carry a charged phone.”

I folded my arms. “Are you going to hit this place?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me get you a drink.”

The room to his left was flooded in darkness and yet the rest of the gallery glared beneath fluorescent lights.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you up to?”

He feigned innocence. “Enjoying the art.”

I stepped left to peer into the dark showroom.

His frown deepened. “You can’t see that one tonight.”

“Really?”

He gestured to the rope cordoning it off. “Out of order.”

“That’s convenient. I wonder who put that there.”

“The staff, I imagine. There’s a fault with the sensors.”

I moved toward the door and he grabbed my arm.

“Let go, please.”

His hand snapped away and his back straightened. “There’s a good reason it’s cordoned off.”

“I’m sure there is.” I threw him a look of triumph and climbed over the rope and headed in, pulling the strap of my purse across my chest and easing it behind me.

“Zara,” he called after me, “I was standing in front of the sign.”

I turned and forced a smile. “Am I ruining your plan?”

“You can’t be in here.”

Yes, buddy, I’ve caught you in the act.

Passing the first impressively large portrait on the left of a holographic tornado, I admired its realism. Though with merely digits and codes it wouldn’t be worth anything and was impossible to steal. Walking onward there was the footage of a hurricane at sea with rolling waves; a living, breathing masterpiece. Next, an image of the sun shining brightly and I shielded my eyes trying to figure out what would be so appealing in any of these.

My heel caught in the ground and I peered down at the tiny holes in the floor tiles.

Fuck.

“Hurry!” Tobias was inside the rope and frantically gesturing. “This is the rain room!”

I gawped toward the sound of rushing air.

A deluge of rain—drenching me.

When I opened my eyes, I blinked through the blur of water at a horror-stricken Tobias. The rain ceased, though a few droplets still hit my head as my hair squished to my scalp. My dress clung horribly. I’d become the exhibit.

Careful with his footing on the slippery floor, Tobias hurried over and shrugged out of his jacket.

Breathing through these waves of panic... Oh, no, I’d ruined this lovely dress. Wiping water out of my eyes, I looked up at him. “It’s Escada.”

“I love it.” He gave a sympathetic smile. “Both versions.” He wrapped his jacket around my shoulders.

I welcomed the warmth with a sigh. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Tobias cupped my cheeks and leaned in and kissed me, his lips soft and comforting against mine, my mouth tingling, my need for him relighted as I almost forgot this was forbidden.

He broke away and gave a reassuring tug on his jacket to bring it further around my shoulders. “You have a funny way of trying to save me, Zara Leighton.”

I gave a shrug of surrender and shivered.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He pulled me into a hug.

“You’ll get wet.” I nudged him away.

“Come on.”

Trudging toward the exit behind him, I paused briefly to wring water out of my hem. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone seeing me like this.

How embarrassing.

As I stepped out into the hallway the stark chill made me tremble.

“Let’s get you out of here.” Tobias rubbed his hand up and down my back.

Gabe walked briskly toward us in a flurry of concern. “What the hell happened to you?”

My teeth chattered. “Bit of an accident.”

“Why did you go in there?” He threw a glare at Tobias.

“I’ve never known it to rain in a gallery.” I mean whose idea was this, anyway, and what purpose did it achieve? Where I came from it rained almost every bloody day.

“It’s out of service.” Tobias gave a look of resignation. “The motion detectors are meant to pick up movement—”

“Stop the water hitting you when they detect you’re beneath,” added Gabe. “I love this one. When it works.”

“Is my makeup smudged?”

“It’s a new look for you.” Gabe gave a shrug. “Party girl.”

Oh, no.

Running my fingertips beneath my eyes I tried to wipe away the mascara.

Gabe reached out and took my purse off me and gave it a shake. “I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

“Do you have leather seats?” Tobias inflected concern. “This water—” he pointed to me “—will ruin them. What do you drive?”

Gabe frowned. “Audi R8.”

Tobias cringed. “Leather seats?”