Page 82 of Peyton's Price

Except he’s your host and that would ruin Matthias’ oil deal.

They were in the short pervert’s penthouse in London. It was one of the creep’s many properties, or so he claimed in a misguided attempt to impress her. However, neither that nor his extensive collection of nudes Renaissance paintings made a dent in her estimation of him. The man had all the appeal of a yeast infection.

I wish Liam were here. Lover number two had taken the Caislean jet for a quick trip to Miami, but he was due back early tomorrow. Of course, that meant she had to handle this crowd on her own. Matthias was being monopolized by a cluster of Middle Eastern oil tycoons.

There had been a muffled gasp when he entered the room. Apparently, lover number one rarely did business in person. The excitement when they spotted him had been palpable. And like a good partner, Peyton had mixed and mingled, taking part in the conversation until it became obvious she needed to make herself scarce so a deal could be finalized.

Regrettably, their host had someone to negotiate on his behalf, which meant he could trail her through his abominably decorated apartment.

Iver was a class-A turd. Peyton shuddered as he put his sweaty hand on her arm to guide her over to a slightly obscene Roman mosaic hanging behind glass.

Peyton’s smile grew brittle as she avoided looking directly at the out-of-proportion phallus proudly jutting from the man in the mosaic.

“It is genuine, Iassureyou,” Iver said, stressing his favorite word with a hiss.

She nudged his hand away, wiping away the spittle that landed on her cheek.

“I’m sure it is,” she said, desperately seeking an escape. It came in the form of a waiter holding a tray of canapés.

“Would you excuse me? I am starving, and I’d like to get a bite to eat.”

“Allow me to accompany you,” he said, his unctuous smile nausea-inducing. “I can select the choicest morsels for you.”

Peyton pictured him trying to feed her, then suppressed a shudder.

“Bathroom,” she blurted, clutching her stomach. “Excuse me, I need to find it.Now.”

She turned on her heel, not bothering to ask him where it was.The longer it takes to find, the better.

Wandering about the room, she weaved and dodged around guests until she was sure she wasn’t being followed. She stopped short in front of another sexually charged painting—a graphic modern piece that bordered on obscene. Grimacing, she decided to find the restroom for real. Anything to escape the decor.

At least the bathroom will be free of naked people.

She was wrong. The bathroom had an antechamber with a long settee in front of a lighted vanity mirror with an ornately painted fresco overhead. But at least the cherubs depicted on it were prepubescent. Or was that worse?

Shaking her head, Peyton washed her hands and left, falling on Matthias’ neck with melodramatic relief when she found him waiting outside.

His muscular arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. “I’m checking in. I know this party can’t be fun for you.”

He wasn’t kidding, but she didn’t want to discourage him from bringing her with him to business events. With his and Liam’s busy schedules, she wanted to make sure he didn’t try to exclude her in an effort to spare her. But she had to be honest about the art.

“You know, I never thought of myself as a prude, but the paintings and photos in this place aregross.”

He smiled sympathetically. “I know, and I apologize. If you like, I can have Aksel drive you back to the Caislean.”

“No, no. I’m fine,” she said. “Unless you are done here, in which case, let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

Matthias leaned down, pressing his forehead against her. “Believe me, I’d love to leave Dodge far behind, but I’m afraid I’m not quite finished. Regrettably, this deal is intricate and requires some face-to-face negotiation.”

“You poor thing. I know you’d rather deal with stuff from the comfort of your mega-yacht,” she teased, softening her tongue-in-cheek response with a hand on his stubble. “And don’t worry about me. I’m f-fine.”

Peyton jerked and stumbled, her eyes fixed on the blonde walking past them with her eyes down. It was a girl wearing a low-cut yellow gown, one with a familiar face.

“Are you sure about that?” Matthias pressed close, his arms around her waist the only thing keeping her upright. “Do you feel lightheaded?’

Blushing, Peyton straightened. “I’m fine,” she lied. “There’s no need for concern, although you had a good idea. I may leave a bit early to soak in the tub for a while.”

Matthias’ laugh was deep and low. “Is the art bad enough you feel the need to bathe? Because if so, I get it. I feel dirty, too…and not in a good way,”

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