Gramercy Nights (The Argo Press Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

Then again, I’ve always loathed pastels. I can feel Sebastian watching me.

“You don’t like it,” he says flatly.

“They remind me of Florida,” I admit and Sebastian cocks his head.

“I thought most people like Florida.”

I shrug. “I guess I’m not most people, then.”

Sebastian’s eyes continue to bore into me. “No, I guess you aren’t,” he responds finally.

I turn away, knowing he wants more from me than I’m willing to give. What’s the point of opening old wounds for someone with a clear expiration date?

“Do you like them?” I ask before he has a chance to say anything else.

“Not particularly, no,” he answers with a slight laugh. “Why don’t we go downstairs for a drink?”

I nod and let Sebastian lead me through the crowded room. I can feel people’s eyes on us, watching us, and I know it’s because I’m with the most attractive man here. Just standing next to him makes me feel beautiful, wanted, and special. As if being with him is enough to transform me into the type of woman who belongs in a place like this.

We pass illuminated cases of Egyptian antiquities, pottery and glasswork. Most rooms are cordoned off with velvet ropes while attendants stand guard, ensuring no one takes a wrong turn and ends up somewhere they don’t belong. One wrong turn without a map and you could be lost for days, wandering endlessly through centuries worth of invaluable treasures.

I gasp when we step into the famous Sackler Wing. The enormous room has been transformed into the site of an elegant cocktail party. Candles flicker along the edge of the black bottomed reflecting pool before us while a string quartet plays on an elevated dais, their ethereal music echoing against the marble walls.

“This is stunning.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Sebastian says, pressing his lips to my hair in a gesture of affection. “Come.”

He takes my hand and leads me around the pool and up several steps until we are surrounded by people, everyone elegantly dressed, everyone with a cocktail in hand. While Sebastian goes to the bar for drinks, I circle a table of exquisite hors d’oeuvres, filling a small plate with enough to share.

Sebastian returns, eyeing the plate as he hands me a glass of wine. “Hungry?”

“You picked the wrong girl if you want someone who doesn’t eat in public,” I say, picking up a blini with crème fraiche and caviar. “Anyway, it’s to share.”

“Why would I want someone who doesn’t eat?” Sebastian asks, sounding genuinely puzzled.

I shrug my shoulders. “Beats me.”

He laughs, reaching for a triangle of toast with smoked salmon. “I’m glad you aren’t one of those women. What’s the fun of eating alone?”

I gaze out the wall of windows, watching the headlights of a taxi cut through Central Park on its way to Fifth Avenue.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I say, turning back to Sebastian. “Do they do this often?”

“A few times a year, but I rarely come.”

“Why?”

He shakes his head. “It’s so easy to take it for granted. To forget how much of a privilege this is.” He shrugs his shoulders. “The look on your face reminds me of how I felt the first time I came here. I remember thinking how lucky I was, having all this art at my fingertips.” His honesty catches me by surprise but his green eyes are wide and earnest.

“Sebastian!” a loud voice interrupts us, and we both turn to see a silver-haired man in a navy suit approaching. “I thought that was you. Didn’t expect to see you.”

“Henri,” Sebastian says guardedly, straightening up to his full, imposing height. “What a pleasant surprise. This is Danielle Sutton.”

Henri turns to look at me and he has the most amazing blue eyes I’ve ever seen, the color of glacial ice and just as cold. He gives me a curt nod and turns back to Sebastian, smiling. “You brought a date. How very continental.”

“How’s your wife?”

Henri’s face tightens slightly and his eyes narrow on Sebastian, but when he answers, his voice is deceptively light. “Elodie is fine. She’s in London, unfortunately.” From the sound of his voice, there’s nothing unfortunate about it. “How’s business? I hear publishing has taken a hit.”

“Business is just fine,” Sebastian answers coolly. “In fact, it’s going much better than we’d hoped.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Yes, I’m pleased.”

The two men stare at each other in silence. I can tell they are struggling to remain civil and I’d rather not stay and watch if things turn ugly. I place a hand lightly on Sebastian’s arm, getting his attention.

“I’m going to get a drink. Would either of you like anything?”

Henri shakes his head without looking at me while Sebastian asks for a whiskey. I nod and slip away, dimly aware of a flash going off somewhere in the room. A photographer walking around, taking photos of New York’s elite. I wonder if they’ll end up in the style section of a tabloid tomorrow. The rich and famous hobnobbing about at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’s so ridiculous it actually makes me smile.

When I return, Henri is gone and Sebastian is standing alone, deep in thought.

“Who was that?” I ask, handing him his glass.

Sebastian takes a long sip before answering. “Henri is an old business partner of my father’s.”

“Not exactly your biggest fan, huh?”

Sebastian shakes his head with a wistful smile. “No, not exactly. When I was working in London, I had a bit of a fling with his wife. They’ve had an open relationship for years, though apparently not quite as open as she lead me to believe.”

“You’re joking?”

Sebastian shakes his head, not the slightest bit embarrassed. “Henri’s a hypocritical prick. He didn’t like that I slept with his wife, but he had no problem bringing his dalliances home for Elodie to entertain.” Sebastian reaches out and takes my hand, pulling me close to him. “Does that shock you?”

“That you had an affair with a married woman or that they have an open relationship?”

“Either.”

“It’s not really any of my business,” I answer truthfully. What right do I have to judge Sebastian for what he’s done in his past? “Though I’ve never heard of anyone in a happy, open relationship.”

“Henri and Elodie have an understanding. It doesn’t always work out the way they intend, but I suppose that’s none of my business. Personally, I’ve never understood the appeal of sharing what’s mine,” he says thoughtfully.

“What sort of understanding?” I ask, not wanting to focus on the second part of what he’s said. The part about not wanting the share what’s his.

“Henri has a lot of money. Elodie doesn’t have to work as long as she maintains the façade of blissful matrimony. Given that she’s a very successful lawyer, I don’t really understand, but they’ve been together for a very long time. Who knows, maybe they even love each other in their own way.”

“That sounds terrible.”

Sebastian looks at me curiously. “No, it doesn’t seem like the type of arrangement you’d go for,” he says finally and I blush. Because isn’t that exactly the type of arrangement I’ve gotten myself into?

I look around the elegantly appointed room filled with elegant people. This is the world that money can buy you. Every perfect detail.

I’m watching the violinist flip the page of her sheet music when Sebastian squeezes my ass. I jump in surprise. “Hey!”

Sebastian grins. “It’s very annoying knowing you’ve got nothing under that dress but I can’t touch you,” he whispers into my ear, sending a shiver through my body. I lick my lips, thinking of earlier, in the limo, of everything he said. Of everything he did.

“They say patience is a virtue.”

“Where’s the fun in being virtuous?” Sebastian responds and the heat in his voice makes me pussy clench. He runs his thumb across my lower lip. “I’m hard just thinking about those luscious lips around my cock.”

I look nervously around the room to see if anyone has noticed our exchange, but no one is paying us the least bit of attention. I swallow hard, letting my eyes trail over the unmistakable bulge in Sebastian’s pants. He’s not the only one turned on.

“I’m sure there’s a bathroom around here somewhere,” I joke.

“You really shouldn’t play with me, Danielle.”

“Who says I’m playing?”

Sebastian stares at me, his face unreadable and I find myself once again wishing I could read his mind.

“I have a better idea,” he says finally, taking my hand. I take one sip of my drink before putting it down on the table and let Sebastian steer me out of the room with long, determined strides that I struggle to match. I expect him to turn towards the exit, but instead, he ushers me back upstairs. By now the crowd has thinned significantly. Most people are downstairs, drinking and eating, though there are still a number of people clustered about, staring at the paintings with a determination I can’t fathom.

“Wait here,” Sebastian says, dropping my hand and I nod and watch him approach a female guard standing by the blocked off entrance to one of the closed off exhibits.

He whispers something in her ear and I see her shake her head, but I know that it’s only a matter of time until she agrees to whatever Sebastian’s asking. He has that look about him. Determined. Powerful. Like no isn’t an acceptable answer. Finally, he reaches into his pocket and hands her something, and she looks around furtively before nodding.

Sebastian turns towards me and nods, and I walk over, my whole body alight with nervous anticipation. The woman unhooks the red velvet rope, letting us slip into the closed off hall.

“Take off your shoes,” Sebastian demands and I slip my feet out of the heels that I’m wearing, feeling the cold, hard marble beneath my soles, and lean down to pick them up. Sebastian grabs my other hand and strides forward through the dimly lit hall.

All around us are some of the world’s most valuable pieces of art and yet, I only have eyes for the beautiful man leading me through the room, a work of art in his own right.

By the time Sebastian spins me around, his fiery eyes burning into me, I can barely hear the murmur of distant voices over the blood rushing in my ears. I step back, but Sebastian is faster, his hands suddenly wrapped in my hair, his mouth firmly on mine. Everything ignites. Gripping his shoulders, I push up to the balls of my feet, trying to bring us closer.

Sebastian breaks the kiss, stepping back, his chest pumping. “I wish I could strip you out of that dress and see every inch of you,” he whispers, “but something tells me that wouldn’t be very prudent.” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

I close the distance between us and press my lips to his chest before looking up at him through my lashes, blinking once. “Did you bring me up here to fuck me or to talk?”

He sucks in a breath and I can see the struggle in his face as he tries to decide what to do next.

“Fuck it,” he exhales. “Put your shoes on and press your hands against the wall.”

I turn away slowly, a tingle running down my spine at the thought of Sebastian’s hands finally on my body. I can feel the power radiating off him, even though he hasn’t laid a finger on me, and the anticipation is killing me.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sebastian presses his body against mine, one hand snaking up the front of my dress, finding me hot and wanting.

“You’re going to be very quiet,” he murmurs as he slips a finger into my pussy.

“I can do quiet,” I promise, feeling the rough pad of his thumb press against my sensitive clit.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!” I cry out. I’m desperate, unbelievably desperate, and I can’t believe I’m pinned against a wall in a museum, just a few yards from the private exhibit, grinding my ass against Sebastian’s erection.

With one hand, he pushes up my dress, exposing me completely. “Good. I’m going to fuck you and it’s not going to be gentle and I don’t want you to make a sound.” He runs a hand across my ass and for the briefest second, I’m almost expecting him to spank me and I’m just a little disappointed when he doesn’t.

I feel his hard cock poised at my entrance, and when he pushes himself completely into me, filling me with a single thrust, I moan loudly. Sebastian clamps his hand over my mouth.

“Quiet,” he hisses, his breathing hard and fast in my ear, his cock stilled inside me. I nod blindly, letting my body go soft around him.

He thrusts into me, hard and fast, just as he promised, one hand massaging me roughly while the other remains clamped over my mouth, our bodies fused together. I squeeze my eyes shut, the dim hum of distant voices only heightening every sensation. What if someone hears us? Or worse, catches us in the act? I struggle to breath around Sebastian’s hand as my pulse quickens. I’ve never been fucked like this in my life, have never had sex anywhere but in a bed, and it’s absolutely amazing, the terror of being caught magnifying everything. He stills, his breathing ragged as he strokes my clit with savage determination, allowing me to catch up.

I sink my teeth into his hand as I come, nearly drawing blood but it’s all I can do to stop from screaming.

Sebastian is right behind me, pounding into my quivering sex before exploding into me in hot bursts. My knees shake, my body drained when he pulls out, straightening my dress over my hips. He takes a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. “Don’t move.”