Page 80 of My Favorite Kidnapper

“You were brilliant tonight, Brianna. Gave me a heart attack at first, but you were funny.”

“I knew they wouldn’t take me seriously. No one ever will, but what a great story. It certainly gets their attention.”

“That it does.”

Back at the condo, I poured a scotch and tugged off my tie, sitting on the sofa and looking out the glass doors. Brianna joined me, wearing the pretty robe I had bought her, her necklace still glinting at her throat.

I pulled her to my lap so she straddled me. I traced the glittering piece of jewelry.

“I’ve never had anything so beautiful,” she said.

“I want to surround you in beauty.”

Our eyes locked, and I saw her emotions clearly. There was more than lust. More than teasing. It was right below the surface, and I wondered if mine reflected the same toward her.

“Thank you for coming with me,” I murmured as I slid my hands up her legs, delving under the red silk. I cupped her ass, lifting an eyebrow. “Bare, Little Bee? Was there something you wanted?” I dipped my fingers between her legs, feeling the slick wetness of her desire. “You want more ravishing?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Here?” I asked, my cock already on board. “You want to ride me?”

She placed her lips by my ear. “I want your cock inside me, Dante. Now.”

It was the dirtiest thing I’d ever heard her say.

So I gave her exactly what she wanted.

* * *

BRIANNA

I walked around Dante’s gallery, transfixed. It was incredible. The natural light made the space bright and beautiful. The gleaming bronzes, statues, and other items were dust-free and shown off to perfection. The paintings hung in ways to draw your eye. All sorts of precious metals, jewels, and other items were stunning. I didn’t know how to take it all in. Three floors of beauty that only grew in splendor as you went higher in the building. I slowly perused the walls and display cases, no one bothering me. He had introduced me to his staff, so they knew who I was and left me alone. I put my coat and purse in Dante’s office, not taking a chance of hitting anything.

He was different here. The closer we got to the gallery, the more I felt Dante the businessman coming out. He walked faster, his shoulders straight. His suit was cut to perfection, his gait sure. He still held my hand, although he didn’t walk as close to me as before. Entering the gallery, I felt the last of my Dante fade away. His voice was cooler, stern. His posture was erect, and I felt the authority rolling off him. He was polite and charming but removed. It reminded me slightly of the first time we met, except even then, he had teased me. He escorted me to his office, set back with glass on the top floor, overlooking the entire gallery. Two security guards were on the doors, and everyone coming in was scanned. I found it a little intimidating, but he assured me the people who commissioned him to sell their art appreciated the extra measures he took.

I played a little game as I went around, trying to pick out which pieces in the gallery were his. Several were marked not for sale, but I knew a few were on loan, while some belonged to him.

On the third floor, I could hear Dante’s low timbre, and as I was studying a large bowl, he came out of the office with two of his managers. They shook his hand and went downstairs. He came up beside me. “You like that?”

“It’s pretty. A little, ah, fussy for me.”

“Not into cloisonné, Little Bee?”

“No.”

He indicated a set of vases on another shelf. “What about those?”

I studied them, noting the brilliant colors, inset jewels, and gold. I nodded. “I like those. They’re pretty.”

“Enameled glass. All done by hand by a master. Not as valuable, though.”

“I still like them.”

“Then if you were buying something, I would advise you to buy those. You buy what you love, what moves you, not for the value.”

“Which do you prefer?”

He laughed low in my ear. “The vases. Because they are mine.”