S.E.C.R.E.T. Shared (Secret 2)

He lifted my hand and was about to examine my bracelet when I snatched my wrist from him, hiding it behind my back. He was sexy, and he knew about S.E.C.R.E.T., but there was a dark air about him that kept tripping me up.

“What’s your real name?” I asked. “And how come you didn’t know where the auction was if your banker was here, the blond one?”

“She was following us, having not received an invitation either. Now, I’ll be happy to answer the rest of your questions, Dauphine. But there’s really only one that matters. Do you accept the Step?”

His mouth now at my ear, he gathered a lobe between his lips, gently sucking it. A current flowed through me, my body turning to lava. Everywhere he touched me, the skin beneath melted. He was moving fast, so fast I’d soon be unable to stop him, even if I wanted to.

“I’ve been wanting to do this since I laid eyes on you at the hotel,” he whispered, parting my knees, his hand making its languid way up my thighs.

I froze at the sound of chatter coming from the lobby.

“I locked the door. No one will find us in here,” he said, my skirt now pulled almost all the way up to my hips.

I placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him.

“Where are you from?”

He dove in again, his mouth finding my neck. He was having none of my questions. I was delirious with desire, my instincts beginning to dull because of his talented mouth.

“Dauphine, accept, and I’ll tell you everything.”

“I will accept,” I murmured, eyes closed, “if you tell me … what Step I’m on.”

His eyes searched for my bracelet again, but I’d cleverly tucked my arm behind me.

He straightened up, tugging the cuffs on his sleeves.

“It’s not a hard question,” I said. “Why don’t you check the charm, the one you brought to give me afterwards? That will tell you the answer.”

He paused for a moment, then said, “You know the rules, Dauphine. If you don’t accept, I can’t show you the charm.”

I went over the S.E.C.R.E.T. acronym in my head. He was Compelling, that’s for sure. And this would have been a Romantic, Erotic interlude. Perhaps it would have left me feeling Ecstatic and Transformed. But there was just one problem: I didn’t feel Safe. That was what it all boiled down to. If Step Five was about overcoming my fears, his refusal to answer my questions kept me from feeling that.

“You know the rules too, Dante, or whatever your name is. If I don’t accept the Step, we stop here. It’s over. I’m saying no. Who are you anyway? You sound like you’re from the South—in fact, from Louisiana.”

“Well, now,” he huffed, standing. “For someone who refuses me, you sure demand a lot.”

“It would seem so,” I said, pulling my dress down over my knees. My chignon had fallen out in our brief tussle, so I undid the barrette holding it in place, releasing my hair.

“Red Rage indeed,” he said, admiring my hair, reaching out to caress a tendril. I pulled away. “I would be happy to have my driver take you back to your hotel.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “I can make it back on my own.”

“Then … I shall be on my way.”

He stood and walked away, unlocked the door, and quietly shut it behind him as he left. Who in the hell was this man and what had he just tried to pull? I waited a few more seconds before heading back to the theater, where a handful of people still surrounded the painting. Was it too late to rip up the transfer of ownership? I had to try.

The auctioneer was locked in quiet conversation with the banker, Isabella.

“Excuse me,” I said, interrupting them. “Before I leave, can you tell me if it’s possible to stop the transfer? It’s just … I feel I might have made a mistake in selling the painting to an unregistered bidder.”

They looked at each other as though they had been discussing this exact thing.

“The problem is that you would now need his signature too,” said the auctioneer. “He officially owns that painting.”

“And he was a very keen buyer,” Isabella added, in clipped but perfect English. “I did not realize he was unregistered; otherwise I would not have participated on behalf of Señor Castille.”

“Señor who?”