Page 15 of Captured
Dimitri didn’t merely bend down into his kiss, he attacked, his right hand snaking around Lauren’s neck as his left pulled her body into his. As if she needed more of a reminder of his interest, his hard shaft pressed against her, but she no sooner registered that sensation than she felt his fingers cup her backside and lift her against him, focusing the hard ridge between her legs where she most needed him. Meanwhile, his mouth plundered hers, not so much kissing her as devouring, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, then withdrawing quickly, his teeth catching her lower lip, then sucking it into his mouth as if he secretly wanted to eat her alive.
Her own hands were on the move as well, grasping at his hair, his shirt, digging into his shoulders and the nape of his neck as she struggled to pull him closer, then closer still. She wanted to laugh, cry, scream, and pass out all at the same time, but her most immediate need was the pulse of him at her core, hot enough to detonate.
What are you thinking?Finally, her sense of safety prevailed, and she shuddered against Dimitri, using every last bit of strength to infuse her words with disdain. “Let go of me,” she managed, her words far too breathless, so she tried again. “I saidlet go.”
Dimitri obligingly leaned back, though his chuckle was pure seduction. “Your wish is my command, princess.”
“I wonder...” Desperate to look at something—anything but him, she glanced to the side, at yet another gorgeously rendered portrait of the royal family, this one featuring a king and queen she didn’t recognize...standing next to someone she did.
“Wait a minute,” she said, stepping toward the wall. “Is that?—?”
Dimitri’s hiss of warning drew her focus back to him.
“We’ve got company,” he snapped, his voice low and hard as he peered at the far-off doorway to the gallery, his hands tuckinghis shirt into his trousers with rough urgency. “Queen in twenty seconds.”
“How do you know that?” Lauren stared at him for another precious second before realization hit her square in the eyes. The queen! And she’d been mauling the security guard! With speed born of long practice, she pulled out her destroyed bun and reknotted it, then quickly smoothed down her dress. She’d worn only the barest makeup, and her gaze snapped to Dimitri. “Face?”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “It’s dark.”
“Oh, great.”
“What can I say? I have an effect.”
“Yeah, well.” She let her gaze drop to rest on the evidence he couldn’t quite hide yet. “You’re not the only one. You owe me.”
She turned around smartly and positioned herself slightly in front Dimitri, so that when Queen Catherine entered the room and flipped on the flood of lights, Lauren was effectively shielding him from view. The queen wasn’t alone either. Kristos filed in behind her, looking weary.
“Oh, good. I was hoping to find you together.” The look she sent Dimitri wasn’t challenging, Lauren realized. It was grateful. Wariness shot through her, stiffening her spine. Why was the queen grateful to Dimitri? What was going on here?
She didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. “Jasen finally filled me in completely on Lauren’s concerns with the package we received yesterday. I suspect you haven’t told her yet about your latest findings. No? Then you can tell us both now.”
Lauren couldn’t see Dimitri’s face, but she could almost sense his grimace. “There’s nothing to?—”
“Don’t patronize us,” the queen said breezily. “I know full well that you’ve been using every piece of our electronics and surveillance systems to find information about Henry Smithson, if he’s truly behind this.” She shook her head. “I hope he isn’t.I’ve met the man on more than one occasion, and he didn’t strike me as a game player. But I admit I’m not always a good judge of villainy. So, what have you found?”
“Not much, Your Majesty, as I suspect Kristos has informed you.” Lauren saw Kristos nod almost apologetically and stifled her own smile. She knew that Dimitri had been the better friend of the older brother, Aristotle, but these two clearly knew each other well. “There’s nothing to indicate conclusively that the package was from Smithson, and our inquiries have led us only to Rome, where the package apparently originated: a custom jewelry vendor of some sort.
Raphael’s, Lauren thought. That settled it. It was one of Henry’s favorite boutiques, if only because they had no issue pushing conflict diamonds.
She kept her expression smooth, and Dimitri went on, blessedly oblivious to her sudden awareness. “This jeweler, Raphael’s, said the order was placed by a woman, not a man, and that it was to be an anonymous gift of a jeweled butterfly for your majesty. To honor your work with the World Land Trust?”
“Hmm. It’s reasonable. And yet the butterfly was sent in an unsealed package? Seems strange.”
“The rep would agree with you,” Dimitri said. “They had the package sent with all the usual protections. Somewhere along the line, only the box remained.”
She felt his gaze shift to her. “Black-and-white is their standard configuration. So it could be a coincidence that it matches Smithson’s preferences.”
Lauren nodded firmly. “Yes. Yes, it could be, absolutely.”
Dimitri went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “Smithson himself has proven a bit more difficult to locate. His yacht was last docked in Portugal earlier this month, but there was no indication of where he was slated to travel next.”
“He’s in Portugal?” Lauren turned to Dimitri, fear surging up faster than she could shove it down. Smithson was that close? “Which yacht? The Typhon I or II?”
The queen gave a soft gasp as Dimitri glared at her. What had she said to upset them so? She was the one who should be upset. “Like, just tell me the size, the color—is it white or black? He only has two. One he keeps solely for European travel. The other is bigger, more capable of going long distances.”
“Black,” Dimitri said, and Lauren managed to breathe again.
“Okay. That’s the Typhon II. That’s the bigger one—I don’t know how big.” A lie, but Dimitri didn’t need to know that. She’d studied Henry Smithson the way a cop studied a serial killer. He was that dangerous to her. “He could go anywhere, especially from Portugal. He could be heading back across the Atlantic.”