Page 23 of Painted in Sin

"Do you often barge into other people's homes?" he asks with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh, cut the crap, Costa. You have some nerve." I march into his living room over the Persian rugs, past the paintings on the wall I know are stolen works, and stalk right up to him. My head is spinning in fury and it's all directed at him in spite of the fact that it's all my fault.

"You seem perturbed." Victor uncrosses his arms, slides his hands into his pockets, and I glare at him, ready to smack him across the face.

"How could you? You know this is going to affect me, Victor. I'm not stupid enough to think you care about me simply because we fucked, but this? My whole world could come collapsing down around me and you don't seem to mind." This whole thing is only happening because I directly defied Mr. Giani's instructions to keep the authentic Raphael on display. I forged it, and now I can't admit that or that crooked Interpol agent will hang me out to dry.

I could still confess, tell them I did it to protect the authentic painting, and maybe Mr. Giani will fire me and cut his losses, but he'll have the real painting. Still, if Victor fences the forgery and people find out it was me, I'll lose all credibility. I can't have that.

His hand reaches out and wraps around my shoulders. I shudder, but I don't back away. As angry as I am with him, his move is still comforting. It anchors me in the moment and tempers the rage I have coursing through my body. He has the painting. It hasn't been fenced yet, and there is still time to undo this wrong we've both been complicit in.

"Look how beautiful it is, Bella," Victor says, his voice so smooth I almost fall into the trap. The way he looks at me in earnest, as if imploring me to see things the way he sees them, I can hardly resist it. My eyes shift to the painting and I admire the handiwork. It's my masterpiece, though it's just a copy of someone else's work. It's not like I can sell it. It's not like I'll ever be recognized for that.

"Victor," I say in protest, but he shakes me gently and turns me around then stands me directly in front of the painting.

"Look at the amazing talent you have. You could do this for millions of dollars, Bella. Think of all the lost paintings you couldretrieve with your artwork. They'd be displayed in the most prominent galleries around the world and?—"

"No," I tell him firmly, turning around to lock eyes with him. "I'm not the woman you think I am or want me to be. I forged that painting because I knew you would try to steal it. The authentic Sister is safe in the vault, and you are a thief, just like I knew you were." I'm heaving for air, chest rising and falling so hard I must appear like I've just finished a footrace.

"Bella," he coos.

"Stop it. Just stop." I try to step away but he pins me in, holding me back with an arm across my middle, and I reach up and smack him the way I wanted to a few minutes ago. Victor catches my hand and twists me around, folding my arm up behind my back. He is so strong and it happens so fast, I'm not sure what to think.

"You'd give up a future of ease, no pressure to be anything other than what you know you are? I can secure it for you, Bella. Make sure it's solid, that you'll never fear anything or lack anything again." His breath vibrates across my cheek, his face so close I can almost feel his stubble on my cheek.

"Let me go," I tell him, but the truth is, I don't want him to let me go. What he's saying is ludicrous. I will never stoop to being an art forger for money, not even if I'm down to my last dime. I am, however, drawn to this man in ways I will never understand. I can't make myself stop responding. My body tenses against his manhandling of me, but my core pools with warmth.

"But you like it when I do this," he whispers, pulling me backward away from the painting. His body stays firmly pressed against mine, leaving not even an inch of space between us.

"I mean it, Victor. Let me go." I don’t really mean it. Something inside me wants him to take control because when he is in control, at least I feel safe. Ever since that Raphael came into my life, it's been nothing but chaos and adrenaline, and I'd like to feel something other than fear or panic.

"I don't think you mean that, so I'm going to give you a safe word, Bella. If you say the name Mona Lisa, I will stop what I'm doing. Until then, you are my toy, and I will do with you as I please." Victor's teeth sink into the side of my neck, and I hiss in pain, but I arch my head to the side, allowing him more freedom to devour me.

Victor's hand slides from my wrist and wraps around my waist a moment later, his fingers caressing my skin which results in goosebumps racing along my arms. I moan as his other hand cups the side of my breast, squeezing and kneading roughly, as if he's testing my limits. I want to slap him away, I really do, but before I can do anything, Victor has his hand inside my bra and is palming my bare breast.

"I am going to enjoy fucking you into submission, Bella," he whispers hoarsely in my ear.

In that moment, I find I can't quite find it in me to object anymore. A part of me—the part that thrives on danger and thrill—revels in the situation I've gotten myself into. Victor's grip on my breast tightens, and instead of eliciting pain, it sends a flood of warmth straight to my core. His fingertips pinch my nipple and roll it back and forth, and I gasp, unable to contain the moan building in my chest.

"Victor, I…" I start to speak, but he silences me with a searing kiss, his tongue invading my mouth in a way that leaves nospace for objection. His hand slides down to my waistband, his fingertips questing, searching for the true prize.

"I don't care whether you're wet for me or not, Bella," he growls into my ear, his voice hot and possessive. "I'm going to have you now. Here.”

“You’re a vile man…” His fingertips rub my clit, rubbing and working me up. Vile or not, he’s got me where he wants me. I’m no hapless victim, though, and he knows it. He knows I’m enjoying this.

“Oh, Bella, there’s a fire in you. A fire I intend to extinguish and resurrect as many times as I’d like tonight.”

I’m whimpering, weak in the knees as he pushes his fingers into my slit. My tight waistband makes it difficult for him to do much, and he remedies that by loosing my breast and yanking my pants down so quickly I gasp.

“Victor…”

“Don’t you dare tell me no, darling, because I can see how wet you are for me. It’s all over your thighs.”

My face heats with embarrassment, but I can’t deny it. He dips his finger in my wetness and then slowly drags it across my lips. “Taste yourself, then let me taste you.”

I do the only thing I can think to do in this moment. I take his finger into my mouth, sucking on it languidly as if it’s his cock. I tease him the same way he’s been teasing me, and Victor’s grip around my waist tightens so hard I'm sure he'll leave bruises tomorrow.

“That’s my good girl,” he coos before abruptly sealing his lips back to mine.

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