Oh, no. She could protect herself against his arrogance. His controlling manner. His imperiousness.
But not against that anxious, vaguely lost expression on his bold, handsome face. It was too much. The weight of her emotions surged like a storm rushing a beach.
She hurried out of the room.
* * *
“Let me,” Davie said when Ian turned to follow Francesca, his gut wrenching at the shadow of anguish on her lovely face. Ian abhorred feeling helpless. He’d fashioned his entire life to avoid the unpleasant sensation. And yet he had to accept that hateful emotion as he stilled his feet with great effort and watched Davie pass him in pursuit of Francesca.
* * *
“How in the world did you ever do it, Davie?” she asked when her friend entered the studio a minute later. She was glad to see it was him and not Ian. Ian had bulldozed her remaining fragile defenses by doing what he’d done. How had he known that giving her back pieces of her past would decimate her walls when it came to him?
Davie shrugged and walked over to the table where she kept her art supplies. He tore off a piece of paper towel and handed it to her.
“Ian gave me carte blanche in order to locate and purchase as many of them as I could. When you have those kinds of resources, it’s not as hard as you might think.”
“That kind of money, you mean,” Francesca said, wiping tears off her cheek with the paper towel.
Davie gave her a soulful glance. “I know you told me last week that this thing between you and Ian was over, but we’d started the ball rolling a while back . . . before you went to Paris, even. Are you mad at me?”
“For going into league with Ian?” she sniffed, smiling mirthlessly.
“I wouldn’t have done it for a lesser cause. You know I’ve been trying to get ahold of some of your older works for ages now. It’s because I think you’re such a talented artist that I wanted to do that, ’Cesca. That was my main motivation for agreeing to help Ian collect the pieces. Not his money.” His attention was diverted. He went to stand before the painting. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he said in a hushed tone. “This is the best work you’ve ever done.”
“You really think so?” she asked, walking over to stand next to him.
Davie nodded solemnly, his gaze traveling over the large painting. He met her gaze. “I know you said that your . . . affair with him was over, ’Cesca, but I can’t help but notice that Ian Noble is crazy about you. Granted, I’ve expressed my doubts about your involvement with him in the past. But this wasn’t just about him throwing his money around. You wouldn’t believe the effort and thought he’s put into acquiring your work.”
She was unsure of how she was supposed to feel. Two tears spilled out of her eyes. “He does it because he can, Davie.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Davie asked, looking confused. “What is it about Ian Noble that intimidates you so much? I can tell that you’re attracted to him, but torn about it, too. What’s he done to you?” Davie demanded, his bewilderment morphing to worry as he studied her face.
“Oh, Davie,” she mumbled miserably. She’d never told him about the sexual aspect of her and Ian’s relationship . . . about Ian being a sexual dominant and insisting she was a submissive. She suddenly blurted it all out, her explanation coming in uncomfortable fits and starts as she tried to give Davie a PG version and found it nearly impossible to do so.
“Francesca,” Davie said, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Having kinky sex isn’t a terrible thing. I know you haven’t had much experience—”
“Any . . . before Ian,” she reminded him.
“Right. But people have all sorts of kinks in the bedroom. As long as it’s consensual and no one is getting hurt . . .” He paled as he faded off. “Ian’s not hurting you, is he?”
“No . . . no, it’s not that,” she exclaimed. “I mean . . . I like . . . love the way he makes love to me,” she said, blushing hotly. She’d never had this graphic of a conversation with Davie before . . . with anyone, for that matter. “It’s just that he’s a control freak all the time. Look at how he went behind my back and did this whole thing with you! He knew it’d make me want to forgive him for walking out on me last week without an explanation after we’d started to grow close.”
Davie sighed. “I told you. Ian asked me to locate your paintings a while back. He couldn’t have known you guys were going to have a fight back then and suggested this to make up for it. Look, I’ve spent time dealing with him over the past few weeks as I located your paintings and we negotiated purchase prices. I know he’s domineering, but he’s also thoughtful. Yeah, he’s stubborn, and it’s his way or the highway, but it’s been hard to argue with him about that when he clearly wanted to do this to please you.”
She just stared at her friend . . . wanting to believe him . . .
“I only know one other person who’s as stubborn as him,” Davie said in a wry, challenging tone. Francesca laughed. She knew who that other person was.
“If you made it clear to him that his dominance over you could happen solely within the boundaries of sex and the bedroom, would that help?” Davie asked.
“But he shares so little of himself. He can shut me off like a light.”
Davie nodded in understanding. “Well, it’s your decision, of course. I wouldn’t be too sure about his ability to shut you out, though. He’s unreadable most of the time, no doubt about it, but that doesn’t equate to a lack of caring. It just means he’s good at hiding it. Anyway, I wanted you to know how focused and generous he’s been in collecting your paintings. He’s been a man on a mission.” He checked his watch. “I have to get going. I’m closing the gallery this evening.”