Selena’s eyes narrowed as she studied him: arrogance cloaked in the sweet smell of success. She could sense ruthlessness in his nature; tempered by haunting sadness he did his best to hide. Stefan Arany was the opposite of everything she longed for in a man. Dangerous. Then why did she feel this attraction?

“You’re an enigma, Mr. Arany. I know so little about you.”

“You know nothing about me.”

Her brow arched. “You think so? Let’s see, you’re an art gourmet. You compose. From the looks of things, you’re either a good businessman or deep in debt. You command. People jump to obey. That makes you important, maybe even nobility.” She tilted her head, looking at him from a different angle. “What else are you, I wonder?”

His expression remained guarded. Secrets lurked in his eyes. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Stefan, darling, could this be the artist? Your female Michelangelo, your Rembrandt? She looks ordinary.”

Selena tore her gaze from his to stare at the most exotic woman she’d ever seen. Pale skin shone like marble in the gallery light, contrasting sharply with crimson velvet and ebony hair. A ruby worn just below her right tear duct accentuated irises of the deepest purple: Liz Taylor eyes. Selena drew in a quick, uneven breath. Absolute hunger gripped that beautiful face.

Arany’s mouth quirked in amusement. “Stop drooling, she’s mine. Miss Nicols, I present you with my old friend Claudia, and vice versa. To a point.”

“Darling, you must never call me old.” Claudia held out her hand. Hiding her reluctance, Selena took it. The woman smiled, revealing white, pointed teeth. She turned and moved away, drawing them behind her as by some invisible tether, until they stopped before one of the paintings.

Selena cringed. Catharsis by canvas: snow everywhere, pristine and lovely, marred only by blood. White she-wolf and slaughtered lamb.

“I must have it,” Claudia said. “It’s so me.”

Throwing back his head, Arany roared with laughter. Selena wanted to run at the sound. “Well put, Claudia,” he said. “It captures your nature perfectly. You shall have it – for a price, of course. I insist.”

The woman returned his smile, but Selena noticed it stopped just short of her eyes. As did his.

He turned to her. Taking her hand, he swept a kiss across her knuckles. “And you, my dear, I predict you’ll be toast of our world.”

His lips, so cold. Selena couldn’t bring herself to look at him – anywhere but him. He led her to mingle. Duty bound, she made small talk with those gathered. They were strange, the lot of them. But who else did she think would be drawn to her work?