Out of Control (Untamed #2) (9 page)

The man shook his head. “If you cannot provide more, then we’ll have to reschedule.”

“But I have family flying in from the States for this. You can’t change the date on me.”

“I can,” Jacques said, “and I will if I have to. Our clients come first and we need to give them what they want…whether it’s from you or from someone else. Bring us more nudes.”

Then he turned and retreated into his office, pulling the door closed behind him, taking away my hiding space.

I stood frozen in place as Dare stared at me with blazing, narrowed eyes. His jaw tightened and his lips thinned into an angry line. He didn’t say a word, just spun on his heel and stalked toward the door.

Fuck.

“Dare, wait! Please!”

He ignored me and stormed down the street, forcing me to run to catch up.

“Dare!” I grabbed his arm.

When he spun around to look at me, his expression darkened and his eyes turned to stone, and I immediately wished I hadn’t touched him.

He glanced down at my fingers that were still wrapped around his arm and I pulled my hand back, breaking the connection between us.

“Please,” I said, breathing hard, stalling for time. I had no idea how I was going to explain myself. Just when it seemed like we’d made a little progress, I had to go fuck it all up again.

“What the hell were you doing there?” His words were tinged with both fire and ice. “I told you to stay out of it. I can do this on my own.”

“I just—I was so excited for your show and then I talked to Sabine about it—”

“You were checking up on me? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, it’s not that,” I said, panicking. “I mean, yes, I was. Sort of—” His face darkened. “But not the way you think. I was just telling her the good news. That’s all. She had lots of good things to say about Yves Robert.”

“Un-
fucking
-believable. I never should have told you. I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your nose out of it.” He shook his head, ran his hands through his hair. “I assume you heard everything?”

I bit my lip. “I can help you.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah? How?” There was a dark challenge in his voice.

My mind raced. La Période Bleue! I could get him a show there. And Sabine would crow about it. She could rub it in Yves’ face and I could do the same to Lucien. It would be a coup! My shining moment—except I was supposed to be doing this for Dare, not myself. Though if it benefitted us both…

“I can set up a show for you at La Période Bleue in a few weeks,” I told him. “So you have enough time—”

Dare shook his head. “Dax and Dalia already have their plane tickets. I can’t change the date. And I don’t need you pulling strings for me, Reagan. I’ve been doing this on my own for a while now. I don’t need your help.”

God, he was SO—

“I
know,
” I said, my hands fisting at my sides, my words coming out through clenched teeth. “You’ve done amazing, Dare. I’m only trying to help because you’re obviously in a bind and you can’t do
everything
on your own. Sometimes you actually need other people, you impossibly frustrating, too-talented-for-your-own-good, fucking prima donna.”

His eyes widened, then narrowed. Oh shit. It was like I was TRYING to sabotage myself. What he needed was time and—

“A model!” I shouted, causing the people walking by to glance at me in surprise. I lowered my voice and said more calmly, “I can be your model.”

He stared at me for a moment, unmoving, studying my face as if he wanted to know whether I was actually serious. Obviously, I was one hundred and ten percent serious.

“No. I don’t think so.” He turned, but I clutched his arm again and didn’t let go this time.

“Dare, I heard what the gallery owner said. You need more work. You need a model—”

“I need a
nude
model.” There was that razor-sharp challenge again, and now it was starting to piss me off.

“I
know
.” I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms over my chest. “You used to draw me, right? And it worked. Very, very well from what I remember. So if you need—”

“I don’t
need
you, Reagan,” he said, cutting me off. “I’ll find some girl to pose for me.”

“But why look for
some
girl when you can have me? The
right
girl.”

I was playing with fire. I knew it. But I didn’t care. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared at me, his eyes dark and fathomless. There was no caring in there—no hint of it—just ice-cold contempt.

Good god, I’d really pissed him off this time. I almost lost my nerve, but lifted my chin and held my ground.

I wanted this.

I wanted him.

And I would do whatever it took.

“Say yes, Dare. Say you need me.” My words were filled with so much double-meaning I was no longer sure if I was trying to convince him or myself.

After what felt like forever, he nodded—just barely. Then he jerked his head toward the next block and started walking.

“You start now.”

ten

“R
ight now?” I nearly tripped over the curb as I ran after him.

He turned to glare at me, walking at a gracefully fast pace only someone his height could manage. “You wanted to do this. I need to get started right now if I’m going to keep my show. Are you in or not?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I am. I’m in.”

All in.

When I looked at Dare’s back as he led the way, the butterflies inside my stomach started up again. I’d fucking done it. I’d guaranteed myself time with him.

When we got to the corner, I turned to walk back toward the apartment, but Dare stopped me.

“No,” he said. “We’re taking the metro, Princess.”

“But,” I said, my pulse pounding at the thought, “we can walk. It’s not that far.”

It was REALLY far, but there was no way I could go below ground. Just the thought made me shudder.

“I need to get started NOW,” he said. “I don’t have time to waste strolling through the streets of Paris just because you don’t want to take public transportation.” He glared at me, the ultimatum clear on his face.
Do this or go home.
He knew how I felt about underground spaces, though I’d never told him why.

“You’ll have to set up, right?” My mind was racing. There had to be some way around this. “I’ll meet you there. I’ll walk fast. I’ll run.”

He looked down at my sandals, and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Okay, I’ll
walk
—but really REALLY fast. It won’t take me long, I promise.” I glanced at the stairs leading into the darkness. I couldn’t. I couldn’t go down there.

He shook his head. “The metro.” And he took a step down. “If you want in the game,” Dare said, not even looking at me anymore as he headed underground, “you gotta play by my rules.”

Fuck. Me.

I was sweaty and shaking by the time we got to our stop. I’d kept my eyes closed, fists clenched on my thighs the entire horrible ride. Dare sat next to me, pressing his body against mine, possibly in an effort to help, but nothing could soothe the panic in my mind and body. It had been seven long years since the last time I’d delved into an underground space.

Ever since—no. No, no…
stop
.

I wouldn’t think about that now. I wouldn’t think about it EVER.

I dashed up the stairs to street level, gulping in air like I’d been suffocating. In a way, I had.

Dare followed close behind, concern marring his handsome features. It was even worse than when the power had gone out. He’d never seen me this bad—no one had, not for a long time. And there was nothing he could do.

He searched my face. “Jesus, Reagan. Are you okay?”

I shook my head. Then nodded.

“What just happened?” He reached out to touch my cheek, but stopped himself. “I mean, what…I don’t even know what the hell to ask you.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I told you I don’t like…places like that.” I closed my eyes, but a couple of traitorous tears slipped out. I took some deep breaths, trying to force the panic back down. “It’s not because I’m being spoiled. It’s…just—”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wouldn’t have asked you to do that if I’d known how bad it really was.”

“You didn’t know.” He had no way of knowing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head, silently pleading with him to just drop it.

He took a step toward me, and reached out to touch my arm, his hand stroking up and down, his fingers brushing my skin gently and with purpose. His calmness seeped into my body, and my wild pulse and the tremors slowly subsided. That simple gesture felt so good, so right. I closed my eyes, basking in the warmth of his touch, and breathed him in.

Color
. God, Dare still smelled like color.

He was intoxicating.

I could’ve stood like that forever, but he cleared his throat and stepped back. I couldn’t look directly at him for fear the eyes gazing back at me would still be cold and distant. He stood there for a moment longer before taking my hand in his, linking our fingers together, and leading the way to our building.

Although he didn’t speak a single word, something had shifted in his touch—almost like he’d let go of the rigid armor of anger he’d been ensconced in all this time. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe taking the metro had been worth it after all.

Once inside his apartment, Dare threw his keys on a little table by the door, then headed down the hall in the opposite direction of his bedroom. He led me to a bright room. His studio.

Oh, god. His studio.

It had been so long since I’d seen him work, my knees felt a little weak just from being in proximity to the canvases and paints. He had a platform set up for a model, and I tried not think about the other naked women he’d spent time drawing, painting…touching.

The thought hurt so much I actually winced as it pierced my mind.

Dare pulled out a blank canvas and propped it on his easel. Then he picked out a few brushes and started sorting through paints. He glanced up at me, his face wary. He nodded toward the other end of the hall.

“You can get undressed in the bathroom,” he said. “There’s a clean robe behind the door.” Then he went back to his paints.

I nodded and turned to walk down the hall.

It always took him at least fifteen minutes to set up his stuff, so I decided to take a quick shower. I felt disgusting and sweaty after the metro, and knew I’d feel more comfortable if I wasn’t worried that I smelled like panic and pain. I stripped off my clothes and piled my hair up on my head to keep it out of the water.

A few minutes later, I toweled off and wrapped the robe around me. It was long and silky, obviously something he kept for models. And all the women who came and went, regardless of whether they posed for him.

I tied the robe tightly, then walked back down the hall to his studio. He was almost set up, his palette ready, his brushes in place, a cup of coffee in his hand.

The canvas in front of him was a big, white, blank space full of possibilities. I wished my life had been like that—defined only by the limits of my imagination—and not filled by my parents like a perfect paint-by-number picture.

But now it could be. I was in Paris, after all, trying to free up my life’s canvas by erasing some of the lines, painting over them, making my own. This—being here with Dare, helping him—felt like a step in the right direction.

He nodded over toward the platform where a futon mattress lay with a chocolate brown blanket covering it. My hands started shaking and I swallowed hard, suddenly filled with nervous energy. Which was ridiculous because this was
Dare
. I trusted him. Once upon a time I’d wake up to him sketching my naked form after a night in his bed. He knew me. He’d seen everything I had—very recently, in fact.

There was nothing to be nervous about.

And yet there was everything to be nervous about. This felt like one of those pivotal moments in my life when everything was on the line. If I screwed it up, my life would go off track, be colorless again.

I had no idea why I felt this way, why this seemed so huge, but it did.

I glanced at a little table right next to the mattress—there was a hot, fresh cup of tea sitting on it. Oh, my god. He’d made me tea. That was just so—