“Would you paint something for me?”
I look up at him, surprised by his question. “I don’t do commissions.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I don’t like to be pressed into doing things I don’t want to do.”
Roman’s lips widen in a smile. Yup, he understood the double meaning.
“How about a trade, then? You paint something for me, and I give you something you want.”
“Anything?”
“Money, jewelry, anything you want.”
Tempting. It’s not a thing that I want from him, though. “I want an answer to a question,” I say. “Is that an option as well?”
My choice surprised him. I see it in the way his eyes widen just slightly. And he’s not happy. “Depends on the question.”
“In that case, I’ll have to decline, Mr. Petrov.”
He looks at me and then bursts out laughing, making several heads turn in our direction. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Grey.” He leans his head and whispers in my ear, “Ask.”
I find it hard to believe that he accepted. Petrov doesn’t seem like a man who would agree to anyone’s terms. He must really want that painting. I lift my head and look into his calculating dark eyes, while several possibilities run through my head.
“Why do you need a temporary wife, Roman? You’re handsome, rich, powerful. I’m sure there are dozens of women who’d be happy to marry you. Why waste three-million dollars when you could get a wife for free?”
“Because I don’t want a permanent one, and the current business situation requires me to have a wife for the next six months.”
“Why six months?”
“Well, that’s a second question.” He smiles. “And you bargained for only one.”
Touché.
He had answered without revealing anything at all. I should have expected it and phrased my question differently, but there’s no going back now.
“So, what do you want me to paint for you? A landscape? Your dog? Apples, cheese, and dead flowers on a table?” Those are the usual requests when it comes to custom commissions, and the main reason why I hate doing them.
“Nope. I had something else in mind.” There it is again, that devious calculating half-smile. “I want your self-portrait.”
“A self-portrait?” I raise my eyebrows. What the hell is he going to do with my self-portrait? Why not a landscape?
“Yes. Is that a problem?”
“No. Any special requests? Pose? Background?”
He leans forward until his face is looming right in front of mine, takes my chin with two fingers, and tilts my head up a little.
“Just one,” he says and focuses his gaze on my lips. “I want you to be naked.”
My eyes widen at the realization of what he just said, and I’m so stunned that I can’t find a meaningful response.
“It looks like we’ve become a main attraction in the room,” he murmurs, still focused on my lips. “Are you ready, Nina?”
His nearness is doing funny things to my already unsettled mind, and dear God, he smells amazing. Trying to get back down to earth, I start chanting a new mantra in my head:He’s a criminal. He’s a criminal.
“Ready? For... what?” I mumble.