Page 8 of Doomed (Blackwood Brothers #2)

Xavier’s smile disappears instantly, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees. He sets his pen down with deliberate precision.

“Ms. Hayes,” he says, “I don’t think you understand how things work in this town. Any police called against a Blackwood will do exactly nothing for you. In fact, it might make your situation considerably worse.”

“Chill, X,” I cut in, seeing the fear that flickers across Bianca’s face. “She’s not calling anyone. We’re all friends here.”

Xavier’s eyes narrow at me, a silent warning to back off. He’s the serious one, always has been, never one to appreciate my style of negotiation, especially when it involves a beautiful woman.

Bianca glances between us, sensing the tension. She clears her throat. “Knox is right. We’re... friends. This is a business arrangement, and I’m happy to work for you, Xavier.” She nods stiffly.

“Fine.” Xavier’s tone is clipped as he returns his attention to the paperwork. His fountain pen glides across the final line. “That’s everything, Ms. Hayes. Your first installment will be transferred to your account tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Bianca says, shoulders relaxing now that the threat has passed.

Only then do I notice the large rectangular package leaning against the wall. It’s wrapped in brown paper and bubble wrap—the first of Bianca’s commissioned pieces for Purgatory.

“Is that it?” I stride across the room. “The first masterpiece?”

Bianca stands, smoothing down her blazer. “Yes. I wanted to deliver it personally to ensure it wasn’t damaged in transit.”

I’m already peeling away the protective layers, fingers itching to see what she’s created. The wrapping falls away to reveal a canvas dominated by deep reds and blacks—a woman’s silhouette arched in ecstasy against an erotic backdrop.

“It’s divine,” I breathe, stunned by the raw emotion captured in the paint. The piece is erotic without being explicit, powerful without being crude. “Absolutely fucking divine.”

I turn to find Bianca watching me carefully, gauging my reaction.

“You’ve outdone yourself, princess,” I say, letting my gaze travel to her lips. “If this is what you create when you’re angry at me, I should piss you off more often.”

A slight blush creeps up her neck, but she maintains her composure. “Professional inspiration, not anger.”

“Then imagine what you could create with... personal inspiration.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “I’d be happy to provide some, for research purposes only, of course.”

Bianca steps back, putting distance between us, her jaw tightening.

“Do you want another slap?” she asks.

I grin, leaning against the wall next to her artwork. “Why not? The last one got my dick hard.”

Xavier sighs audibly from behind his desk, but I ignore him. My focus is entirely on Bianca—the way her cheeks flush with color, the parting of her lips in shock, the immediate narrowing of her eyes.

“You’re disgusting,” she grunts. She turns away from me so quickly that her hair almost whips my face.

“Xavier,” she says, extending her hand, as if I’m not even in the room. “Thank you for this opportunity. I look forward to completing the rest of the commissions.”

Xavier rises and shakes her hand, shooting me a warning glance over her shoulder. “The pleasure is ours, Ms. Hayes. Your work will be a valuable addition to Purgatory.”

“I should be going now,” Bianca says, collecting her bag and the folder containing her contract. She doesn’t even look in my direction as she adds, “Please excuse me.”

I watch her every movement—the straight line of her back, the way she tucks the folder into her leather portfolio, the graceful steps she takes toward the door. All so stiff as if she’s afraid to loosen her grip on herself for even a second.

Her fingertips brush the doorknob, and I can’t help myself.

“Running away again, princess?”

She pauses, her shoulders tensing under her blazer.

“I’m not running away,” Bianca says, turning enough to meet my eyes over her shoulder. Her voice is cool, but that pretty fucking flush stains her cheeks. “I’m simply leaving because there’s nothing of interest to keep me here.”

The door closes behind her with a soft click that cuts deeper than if she’d slammed it. I stare at the space where she stood, frustration and longing squeezing my chest.

“Well,” Xavier says after a moment, leaning back in his leather chair with an amused expression, “she certainly has your number.”

I turn to face him, forcing a cocky grin I don’t entirely feel. “She’s playing hard to get.”

“Is she, though?” X raises an eyebrow. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like she’s genuinely not interested in your bullshit.”

“Some women are like that at first,” I shrug, moving to examine Bianca’s painting again. My fingers hover above the canvas, not quite touching the textured surface.

“Not all women slap you and then ignore you for two weeks,” Xavier points out. “You might have met your match, little brother.”

I snort, but don’t turn around. “Please. I’ve barely started pursuing her.”

“God help her then,” Xavier mutters, shuffling papers on his desk. “Try not to scare off our new artist before she finishes the commissions.”

I barely hear him. My eyes are fixed on the swirls of red and black, the hidden depths in the painting that mirror its creator.

I want to crack Bianca open the same way, to see what’s beneath that professional exterior.

The memory of her slap still burns on my cheek, the sting of it sending heat straight to my groin.

I’ve had women—more than I can count. Beautiful women, willing women, women who’d do anything to spend a night with a Blackwood. But Bianca’s refusal, her genuine disgust at my advances, has me more turned on than any easy conquest ever could.

I want her. And not only in my bed. I want to see what makes her tick, what inspires those paintings, what fuels that fire behind her eyes.