Beyond Eden (47 page)

“Come,” Circe said as she jumped off the barstool and grabbed Danny’s hand, tugging on it in a way that brooked no argument. She grabbed Danny’s cigarette out of his fingers, mashing it out in the astray next to hers. “Let’s go talk to your precious. I’ve heard about her for years, the majestic Eve—Paul was moony over her.”

“Not moony enough,” Danny complained, but followed after Circe rather than argue.

The spiral wrought iron staircase that led upstairs echoed with the clank of Circe’s high-heeled boots as she pulled Danny up them with a tug on his hand, betraying a surprising amount of strength. For a woman who could strike fear into the heart of anyone she wanted, Circe was actually built in a slim, willowy way that made it impossible for her large breasts to be real. Not that Danny would ever admit to that observation.

Eve squeaked when Danny and Circe suddenly showed up in the open area that made up the upstairs of the loft. The only thing the second floor had to offer was one large, open room decorated with a wrought iron railing that matched the stairs and overlooked the bottom floor on one side. The other side was covered in large, curved windows overlooking Soho. It was an ideal studio for Eve and she had been up there constantly since they had arrived the day before. It made Danny hopeful that perhaps her muse would return with this new, beautiful area for her to work in.

She had most of her paintings leaning against the wall, but there were a few she had set up between the windows. Eve had her paints out and had been working with them, touching up the paintings as she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them.

“Oh, my,” Circe whispered, her eyes on the painting Eve had been working on. “It’s Paul.”

“These are private,” Eve said, glaring at Danny from her spot on the floor, her paintbrush held halfway to the painting. “You should have told me you were coming up.”

“She knows what Paul looks like in slave gear,” Danny said by way of explanation. “Don’t worry about it.”

Eve still looked defensive as she put her paintbrush into a glass of water resting near her leg. Her jaw was set, her green eyes blazing as she worked at rinsing it off with more force than necessary.

“Sweetie,” Circe said in a husky voice as she leaned down to stare at the picture more closely. “This is incredible.”

“Thank you,” Eve said, still not looking at her as she worked on cleaning her brushes.

“They’re all incredible,” Circe rasped, her voice stunned as she walked over to the next picture, staring at it with the same critical eyes. “I collect fetish art, I know what I’m talking about. Daniel, these are—”

“I know,” Danny said, unable to hide a proud smile. “She’s a genius. Paul was always telling her to sell them, but so far the only one she’s sold was to me.”

Circe turned around, raising her curious eyebrows at Danny. “Can I see it?”

“No,” Danny said instantly, seeing Eve’s wide-eyed look of panic as her head snapped around to stare at him. “That one
is
private.”

“What’s the point of buying art you can’t display?” Circe walked back to the picture Eve was sitting in front of and tilted her head to admire it. “How much?”

“Excuse me?” Eve asked, turning around to look at Circe incredulously.

“For the painting,” Circe said, pointing to the painting in front of Eve. “I want it— how much?”

Eve gaped at her. “It’s not for sale.” “You sold one to Daniel.”

“I live with him,” Eve countered, her green eyes still narrowed as if Circe had insulted her on a cellular level. “My soul is in this painting.”

Circe tilted her head, the gleam of raw determination shining in her eyes as she stared at the painting. “I see that.”

It was actually one of Eve’s darker paintings, one that for once did not have a Garden of Eden theme. This time she had painted Paul as an angel, with massive white wings behind him, but that wasn’t what was so disturbing, it was the way his arms were tied above him with large, glowing, golden chains. Blood was splattered on his brilliantly white wings and over the foggy floor, as if he were chained to clouds that were supposed to harbor goodness, but instead showed him nothing but unforgiving misery. His face was angelic as always, because Eve always captured his likeness with eerie realism, but his beautiful features showed agony instead of pleasure that usually came from being punished. It wasn’t until right then that Danny truly understood this painting. She had painted God tormenting him instead of the devil and his God was doing it in a way that left him miserable instead of euphoric. Eve had captured with her art all the pain Paul’s father had caused him by forcing him to endure a reality that would never make him happy.

This was a punishment there was no escape from—one that destroyed him body and soul.

“Twenty thousand,” Circe finally whispered when she pulled herself out of her trance with Eve’s dark artwork. “I’ll write you a check right now.”

“No,” Danny said, shaking his head at that. “She said her soul’s in it. There’s no price for that.”

“Thirty thousand.”

Danny glared at Circe. “I said no. She doesn’t want to sell it. You don’t always get what you want.”

Circe huffed, turning around to look at Danny reprovingly as she put her hand on her hip. “Fifty thousand.”

“No way,” Danny said, returning Circe’s reproving look with one of his own. “She’s not selling her soul to you for fifty grand.”

“So stubborn,” Circe said, rolling her eyes as she turned back to Eve. “Eighty thousand, Precious. I’ll put it up in my club for all to see. I’m not the only fetish art collector in New York. When others see this they’ll be begging you for your work. Sell me this painting and I’ll make you rich. Take or leave the offer, because it will only come once.”

Eve stared up at Circe, her eyes wide and dazed, her jaw falling slack, betraying total astonishment. “Eighty thousand dollars?” Eve whispered. “Are you serious?”

“What is wrong with her? Is she dim?” Circe asked in irritation as she turned back to Danny. “I thought she was artistically educated? Why am I the one to tell her the value of something she should be able to determine on her own?”

“Um—” Danny mumbled, looking from Eve to Circe, feeling his own fair share of shock. Eighty thousand was an enormous amount of money for Eve. More than that, he knew for a fact that if this piece was displayed in Circe’s club Eve would likely get legitimately rich off her art if she could learn to part with it. In the six years since it opened Circe’s club had become one of the most popular upper-class BDSM clubs in all of New York City thanks to Circe’s sharp mind and her husband’s large bank accounts that had him investing millions for the startup. Danny blinked, realizing that if Circe’s husband had enough money to invest millions in a club just to keep Circe amused, then she could afford more than eighty grand for a painting that had Eve’s soul and Paul’s suffering encapsulated in it. “A hundred thousand.”

“What?” Circe barked at him, giving Danny a look of disbelief. “Your precious seems happy with eighty! Why are you getting involved?”

“Because she belongs to me,” Danny said simply, giving Eve a look that firmly told her to shut up. “What’s hers is mine, that includes her art. If you want it you’ll pay a hundred grand and you’ll display it in a place that is sure to garner maximum attention. I want a fucking spotlight on it.”

Circe narrowed her eyes at Danny. “I’m not paying a hundred grand to a no-name fetish artist.”

Danny shrugged. “So we’ll keep it here, doesn’t bother me. It has emotional value for both of us and I’m rich too, Circey. We don’t need your money.”

Eve was still gaping at them, but panic flashed in her eyes, making it obvious that eighty grand had been enough to have her considering parting with a small piece of her soul. Danny narrowed his eyes at her, silently telling her to play along when Circe turned around to stare at the painting once more.

“What is he chained to?” Circe asked curiously. “Why are the chains golden?”

“God,” Eve said simply, her eyes still wide and panicked as she stared at Danny, but she managed to keep her voice even. “He’s the tormentor. Angels have no free will. They have to do what they’re told or they’re punished. They can’t go to hell, but heaven can be just as bad when their destinies are never their own.”

“Huh,” Circe said, her eyes still on the painting. “That’s an intriguing idea. I rather like that.”

“Yes, you would,” Danny said with a smirk at Circe. “Any devil would enjoy seeing God cast as the villain for a change.”

“Indeed,” Circe agreed. “Fine, a hundred grand. Your precious can come to the club and choose whatever spot she sees fit for it and the lighting will be set up as requested. Go fetch my purse, Daniel. I want to look at the rest of her work.”

Danny stopped folding the towel in his hands, lifting his head in surprise when a knock sounded on the door. He frowned, because he and Eve’s list of visitors was extremely limited in New York when they had barely left the apartment to do any socializing. They both had many friends in New York, but neither of them had advertised their arrival.

He would have thought it was Circe, but Eve had left to meet with her at the club to find the proper place to display the painting of Paul and discuss some other projects. Eve was touring it in the light of day without the distractions of a club full of kinky people who would make discussing business impossible.

With Circe out of the picture, Danny walked to the door, assuming Eve had gotten done early and forgotten her key—again.

He unlocked door and opened it with a smile of amusement. “I swear, Evie—”

Danny stopped abruptly, his jaw falling slack when he saw it wasn’t Eve. He was left standing there at the open door, his hand tightening on the doorknob as raw shock rolled over him so potently he couldn’t speak.

“Did you know fast food sucks?” Paul whispered, looking away from him as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t remember it sucking. I’m pretty sure I used to like it. Didn’t we like French fries and cheeseburgers when we were kids?”

“I guess,” Danny mumbled as he studied Paul as if he were a mirage. He would have thought he was dreaming if it weren’t for the fact that Paul looked terrible. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles of exhaustion. Danny saw healing scrapes on his forehead and right cheek. His instinct was to help, but he was too stunned to move. “What—”

“It’s just, you eat something every day for years,” Paul went on, still not meeting Danny’s eyes. “And you never stop to notice how much you love it, ‘cause it’s always there. But when it’s gone, you realize everything else is ruined because of it. You just can’t eat anything else. It all tastes horrible and bland.”

“Why do you look like hell?” Danny asked in a low, deadly voice as the fear that pulsed through him helped clear the shocked haze from his mind. He tilted his head, studying Paul closer and finding bruises along his jawline. “Did you get into a fight? You look like you’ve been in a fight.”

“I just didn’t like Trisha’s cooking and a lifetime of fast food wouldn’t work for me,” Paul sighed heavily, looking exhausted on a bone-weary level as he stared at the floor.

Danny’s grew wide in astonishment. “What did you do, Paul Guy?”

“I broke up with her. My hating her cooking wasn’t any more fair to her than it was to me. She was actually pretty cool about it. That part was easy.”

“You told your family you were leaving Trisha for Eve?” Danny whispered as hope surged through him so blindingly he felt faint.

“No,” Paul said as he finally lifted his eyes and met Danny’s gaze evenly. “I told my family I was leaving Trisha for
you
and Eve.”

Danny sucked in a sharp gasp as tears stung his eyes. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Paul said with a broken laugh. “It was pretty bad. My brothers had come home for the wedding and they were both more than happy to do my father’s bidding. I was right, they
all
would have rather me be dead than queer.”

Danny gasped as a strange collision of sheer joy and horror burst inside him. “How bad was it?”

“Let’s just say that I am most certainly not allowed back into Eden—ever.” “Are you hurt?”

“Nope.” Paul shook his head as a smile tugged at his lips. “It turns out pansy lawyers can actually kick the shit out of bad-ass Marines. They can take the pain, but I can get off on it. It was a really unfair fight and that wasn’t nice of me. If I wasn’t quite so pissed off, I might have warned them. As it was, they were left with a very different impression of faggots than what they started with.”

Danny couldn’t help it, he laughed as he shook his head. “You bit the apple.”

“I bit the apple,” Paul agreed. His eyes glimmered bright blue as tears welled up in them and he gave Danny a soft smile. “Can I come in?”

“
Mi casa es su casa.
” Danny leaned back against the door to let him in. When Paul brushed past him Danny couldn’t resist, not when he realized Paul had really done it. He gave up everything to be with him and Eve. He grabbed Paul’s hand and jerked him forward, kissing him before he could complain. Paul surprised him by kissing him back, his fingers tangling in Danny’s hair. It wasn’t the most passionate kiss they had shared, but it was probably the most heartfelt. When it was over Danny took a shuddering breath to fight the urge to break down and cry in the doorway. Looking for a distraction, he breathed against Paul’s lips, “You want me to make you something?”

Paul ran his hand through Danny’s hair, stroking it lovingly and smiled once more. “I would love it.”

“Say yes, you rotten boy.”

“I’m not saying, yes,” Danny said, rolling his eyes at Circe as he took a long drink of wine. “Red lipstick and corsets don’t scare me.”

“I’m gonna beat you,” Circe said with a laugh as she hit his chest lightly with a riding crop. “Paul, be a sweetie and tell him you are dying to please me.”

Paul took a sip of his own glass of wine as he stood next to Danny in the large art gallery that was having a showing of Eve’s work. He wore a three-piece business suit, looking extremely out of place in a darkly decorated room full of people dressed in every form of leather possible as they walked around looking at erotic paintings. He had come straight from work. Being there for Eve’s big evening was more important than dressing appropriately.