Exposure (19 page)

Yes, that's exactly what he was with Raven
Crowne. She surpassed every fantasy he had where she was concerned.
Enamored, lost, and smitten. He couldn't complain. He even saw it
coming.

***

R
aven lifted her
brows at Nicole and bit back a smile. Nicole, just as amused,
widened her eyes, pleading with Raven to stop.

Michael Hawthorn, Hoan's agent, was more
than a little surprised by her assistant being in the meeting to
set up the exhibit. And by Nicole's low-cut peach dress, which
molded to her curves. His gaze kept drifting, even while he fiddled
on his phone to check his event calendar.

He smoothed a hand down his tie. "I think
the end of March would work best. What do you have open?"

Nicole checked her ledger. "The
twenty-eighth? That's the last Friday."

He nodded and adjusted his tall frame in the
chair. "That works. When do you need the pieces by and how many?"
As it had been since he'd arrived, his tone was clipped and curt.
Gone was the smooth, amused man who'd strolled into her office a
little more than a month ago to initiate Noah's reveal.

They both looked to Raven. "Nicole will
oversee this show, so you can deal with her directly. I'll step in
if need be."

On average, Nicole typically handled the
details once Raven signed an artist. Where Raven focused on the
catering, online and media aspects, Nicole worked the rest, like
sending the photos out for framing, handling sales, and setting up
displays. Just because Hoan was a big name didn't mean she was
pulling her assistant off the exhibit.

Nicole crossed her legs, completely unaware
Mr. Hawthorn followed the movement with his eyes. "We should meet
with Mr. Dwell to establish--"

"No. You deal with me and me only."

"But…" She looked at Raven, tucking her
long, strawberry blonde hair behind her ear.

Raven nodded. "I'm aware of Mr. Dwell's
aversion to the public eye. I agreed to his terms. Mr. Hawthorn
will act on his behalf."

"Okay," Nicole said slowly. "In that case, I
think thirty pieces would do it, but we can adjust that number for
what he has ready."

They worked out some minor details and
agreed to another meeting early next week before Mr. Hawthorn left
and Nicole went back to work.

Raven finished the catering menu for a
showing next Friday and called it an early day. Noah had a
fundraiser tonight his company was sponsoring and she needed to get
home to prepare. She shuddered. Black tie affairs were not her
thing. Too many people, too many eyes. But Noah had asked her to
attend as his date, and she found she could deny him very
little.

She looked at Max, hovering just outside her
door. "We need to stop by my apartment on the way home. Is that all
right?"

Rising, she grabbed her coat, but Max was at
her side and took it from her, holding it while she shrugged into
the sleeves. His manners were so traditional she wondered why he
was single. He was a good-looking man, too.

"We can go wherever you like, Miss Crowne,
so long as I have you back in time for the fundraiser."

He pulled out his cell and thumbed a text,
probably notifying the team that they were leaving and changing
routes. Ever since the night they were followed, Noah had been
freakish about security. Now she understood the serious reasoning
behind it, and was grateful to have Max around.

On the way to her apartment, Raven glanced
at Max in the front seat, studiously checking the mirrors. His
brown hair was cut short, curled slightly at the ends. He had a
wide jaw, which was always clean-shaven, and kind, observant eyes.
Easily six feet tall, he could take up space in a room just by his
size, yet he went unnoticed, more gentle in nature than commanding.
The strong silent type.

"Why are you still single,
Maxie.
"
She grinned at Aubrey's nickname and the blush that rose up his
neck.

He cleared his throat. "I prefer Max, Miss
Crowne. Or Mr. Gerard. I only let Miss Aubrey call me…Maxie."

"Nice dodge of the question. Bravo. I'll let
you slide." She crossed her arms and leaned back. "You're very good
with Aubrey. What's the deal with the pennies?" She'd wondered
about it at the time, when he'd given one to Aubrey, but with
everything else, it had escaped her mind since.

"She was studying the Depression and
currency with her tutor last year." He shrugged. "I thought it
would be neat for her to collect a penny from every year in
circulation. She has a book in her room."

Aw. "I like you, Max. A lot."

He chuckled. "Mutual, Miss Crowne."
Swallowing, his face fell stoic again. "I'm glad he told you about
his past."

Pressing her fingers to her lips, she stared
out the window. "Me, too." The details of Noah's story passed
through her head. "If Rizzoli is in prison, why the need for such
high security?"

Max checked the mirrors. "A contract has
been taken out on Mr. Caldwell's life." More mirror glances. "Andre
Rizzoli's assets have been seized, but somehow he got the funds to
order the hit."

It was the most she ever got out of Max, and
it hurt to hear as much as it scared the ever-living shit out of
her. She shook her head, angry and sick this happened to him. "Why
Noah, though? He had nothing to do with any of this." Neither did
poor Aubrey.

"The FBI only had enough to bring Rizzoli to
trial because of the evidence Mr. Caldwell's investigator dug up.
Rizzoli found out." His grip tightened on the wheel, the first sign
of aggression she'd seen out of him. "It's revenge."

Her pulse beat thready. "Is he going to get
off?"

"Not this time. He got careless. Made too
many mistakes. He also has no clout to tamper with witnesses or buy
off a judge." He glanced at her in the mirror. "Once we find this
goon he hired, you'll be much safer. No one will hurt you."

She nodded as they pulled up to her
building, not entirely sure she believed him. If someone really
wanted to hurt her or Noah, a few men standing guard wouldn't stop
them for long.

They walked down the hall to her apartment
and found two men standing outside. One of them, who looked about
thirty and dressed in a similar black suit as Max's, held up a
hand. "We swept the apartment first and found a problem. We're
waiting on the cops."

She shook in her heels and crossed her arms
over her chest. "What kind of problem?"

His jaw hardened when he looked at her, his
eyes filled with regret. "Someone tossed the place."

"What?" She tried to shove him aside, but he
wouldn't budge. "Move, now."

"Let her through," Max said, sidling up
behind her. "Don't touch anything, Miss Crowne."

The security member turned the knob and
stepped aside, allowing her past. She got three feet before she
halted and lifted a shaking hand to her mouth.

Her furniture was overturned, pictures
smashed, drawers emptied. The floor wasn't even visible through all
the clutter. They'd even broken her dishes in the kitchen. She
trembled in anger, in fear, at the violation that left a thick,
dirty coat over her skin.

Max set a reassuring hand on her shoulder
from behind. "We should go. Let the cops handle it."

"Yes," she agreed, turning. She couldn't
stand another minute in here, a place that had once been her
refuge, where her and Noah had spent endless time together as
friends. Tainted, all of it tainted.

Her gaze fell on the inside of the door. She
froze, not believing her eyes.

Pinned to the door with one of her kitchen
knives was a note, written with lewd scratches in black marker.

He's not who he seems.

Her gut turned to ice. This wasn't a random
break in, nor someone just looking for drugs or quick cash. God.
They'd been in her apartment.

The door crashed open. Max pushed her behind
him with one arm, drawing a gun with his other. She fisted her hand
in his jacket to keep from falling but, before her heart could
start beating again, he relaxed and put his gun away.

"I almost shot you."

Noah, jaw tense, ignored Max and stepped
around him. "Are you okay, baby?"

She nodded, sagging in relief, and went
willingly into his arms. Would she ever stop shaking? "We got here
after it happened."

He tightened his grasp, running his hands up
and down her back as if to warm her. "What were you doing here in
the first place?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but two young
male officers strode in and eyed the mess.

"Before you do anything, you need to see
this." Max kicked the door shut, revealing the note.

Noah tensed against her. He and Max shared a
knowing look. "Out," he growled. "Get her out and somewhere
safe."

"Hold up." The black officer raised his
hand. "Start at the beginning." He took out a pad of paper. "Which
one of you lives here?"

"She does," Noah said. "And that's about to
change."

Raven didn't even have the strength to
argue. Besides, she could never live here again. Not
after…this.

The next hour dragged endlessly, scratching
her nerves raw and trying her patience. She'd been through the same
story eight times on when she'd last been to the apartment, who she
thought the note referred to, was anything missing…

Sending in the crime scene techs, the
officers weren't hopeful on getting any prints or evidence. She
didn't care. They knew exactly who was involved and had no choice
but to keep silent. The FBI would deal with it, and catch Rizzoli's
man. They had to.

All she could think the whole time was, what
if she hadn't agreed to extend the time with Noah? When he'd stood
right here in her living room and used the safeword, she'd been so
nervous she'd almost said no. She could've been home when the guy
who'd done this had come. It could be way more than just her
apartment he'd trashed.

She shuddered. "Let's go home."

N
oah checked his
watch and pulled Raven closer to his side in the backseat. "We only
have an hour until we need to be at the charity event."

He wanted to say fuck it and cart her back
to Aubrey Castle until all this blew over, but too many people were
depending on him. His company hosted this event every year.
Proceeds went to a battered women and children's shelter. A twisted
way for him to try and save Melissa and Aubrey, a decade too
late.

"Do we have to go?"

"You don't, but I do." He kissed her temple
and closed his eyes, imagining all the damn things that could've
happened to her. "I'd really like you to come, though. It might
take your mind off everything." He'd get a few glasses of champagne
in her and take her home, where he'd fuck the memories from her
head.

It was a good plan.

"I'll go, since it'll make you feel
better."

She didn't like crowds and, after her day,
the fact she'd do this for him stirred emotions to the surface.
"Thank you," he whispered against her hair.

She didn't say much on the rest of the drive
or in the elevator. As she stepped into their bedroom, he leaned
against the doorway while she took in the items he'd laid out on
the bed. The dress he had his assistant buy, but the other
purchases were all him.

"Do you like them?"

Confusion wrinkled her forehead, but she
stroked the pale yellow dress. "It's beautiful. You really need to
stop buying me things, though."

He walked into the room and sat on the edge
of the bed, pulling her between his legs. "I have more money than I
know what to do with. I like spending it on you."

She eyed the dress again. Sleeveless and
knee-length, it would show a lot of her soft skin and leave him
hard all night. The black heels he would ask her to leave on
afterward.

He reached for one of the two small boxes
and opened it, showing her the amber necklace and matching
earrings. The silver etchings holding the yellow stones were
simple, but unique.

She gasped and touched her throat. "Noah.
God. They're lovely."

"They match the little bit of honey in your
eyes." He removed the ruby heart necklace, pleased she still wore
it. "Take off your clothes, baby. Let me dress you."

Seemingly too stunned to argue, she slipped
out of her work suit and laid it on a chair. When she came back
between his legs, he dipped his fingers in the band of her panties
and slid them down her thighs.

"What are you doing?"

"Dressing you." He reached around and
unclasped her bra, watching it drift down her arms and to the
floor.

"I think you mean undressing me."

He smiled. "I'll do that later."

Removing the jewelry from the box, he
clasped the necklace at her nape, then put the earrings in before
brushing her hair over her shoulders, letting his fingers linger in
the strands. Because of her skin tone and sharp contrast of black
hair, the photographer in him could study her for hours. A muse to
shadow all others. Certain hues just drove his artistic eye
insanely happy. This color was nearly as perfect on her as ruby or
sapphire.

He lifted the shoes and waved for her foot.
Once both were on, he grabbed her hips and kissed her naval. "When
we get back home tonight, I'd like you to wear this, and only
this." Just the bling and the shoes. His cock swelled as his gaze
traveled the length of her. "So beautiful."

Her fingers threaded in his hair. "Or we
could stay here," she breathed, head falling back as he traced a
finger up her inner thigh.

"Anticipation, baby." Grabbing the last box,
he removed the lid for his favorite present and held up the black
thong with one finger. "Do you know what these are?"

"I'm pretty sure I can recognize
panties."

Hmm. She had no idea. Holding them out for
her, he waited until she stepped into them and they were in place,
then he held up the small remote that came with the thong.