Dark Art Ch. 05

Episode 5: Motivation

Ivan could see headlights as he jogged across the courtyard, two hazy white beams cutting through the rain like twin beacons from a lighthouse.

He saw Serafine's silhouette outlined at the passenger door of a silver car and had only moments to grab the handle from her hand before she opened the door and got inside. At the exact same second, a purple bolt of lightening fractured the clouds overhead, illuminating both of their faces so that Ivan could see her expression clearly.

Surprise was outlined in the bright blue rings of her irises, both eyes wide with fear. So beautiful to look at, that for those few seconds, he didn't even mind the rain.

She hadn't expected to be followed, and when he slid into the backseat of the car beside her, she seemed truly bewildered, like a wild lion had just gotten in and nobody else had noticed.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, before saying, more loudly, so the driver could hear her. "You, you- really don't have to come. I'm sure you're, um, super busy with the house and everything."

"I don't trust Uber drivers," he replied, meeting the drivers eyes in the mirror with a small smile as he scooted closer to her in the backseat. "No offense."

"My friend. I understand you, believe me," the driver responded in accented Farsi, his eyes cutting to Serafine in the rearview, who was now as far away from Ivan as the car would physically let her go. By the way the driver looked at her, his gaze lingering a moment on her face, before settling on her dripping wet t-shirt, Ivan could tell the man did understand him, and put a possessive arm around the girls shoulder.

"You got any music?" he asked casually, ignoring the way she squirmed underneath him, before leaning back so that he was very close to Serafine's ear.

"What's wrong with you? I thought we were having fun."

"You were having fun," she shot back in a testy whisper, upbeat music picking up in the background. Her posture said it all -- hands on her thighs, knees pressed together, body tilted slightly away from him. Tense and rigid as a board.

Ivan exhaled, which came off as more of a laugh. "Mmn, okay, sure," he said, not willing to rise to the bait of a teenager. "Just me."

The last time he checked, her pussy was dripping wet like a whores, because he'd merely touched her, but he wasn't going to argue. She could sort out her emotions later, like a grown-up.

Right now, he had more pressing business to discuss. Of all things... business.

"You said some people came looking for that painting at my old mans place. What ever came of that?"

"What?" she asked, unable to understand why he wanted to discuss something so mundane after what had just happened.

"The Haggard's, or whatever their name was. What happened with them?"

She blinked, turning to look up at him, those eyes searching his face for clues, but he merely stared back at her until she was unable to maintain eye contact anymore, and turned away to stare out of the window, shaking her head.

"I don't know. I just know that Greek Slave got taken down after the art restitution lawsuit. I thought this whole time they already got it back, though...I didn't know it was still in Chicago."

"Art restitution?" Ivan inquired.

"It's like a law where stolen artwork has to be sent back to the original country," she shrugged. "But since it's still here...I don't know what happened. It's weird."

Ivan thought about this, glancing between her, the Uber driver, and back again.

If the painting wasn't in the archival records with all the other shit he couldn't touch, and had instead been kept hidden in an attic for so long, he wondered how many people knew what'd happened to it. It'd disappeared more than a year ago, by her account. Plenty of time to be forgotten by people in today's time.

There was a chance that not even his uncle knew about it, especially considering it had been left in the house unguarded like that. And if it was valuable enough to be considered controversial, maybe it could be sold with no one noticing.

It could represent hundreds of thousands, possibly even millions of dollars -- with an interested party already out there waiting to write him a check. What more could he ask for? They would find that the new CEO was a lot more willing to negotiate than the last.

He just needed to get more information from this girl.

"Do you know how to get in touch with them?" Ivan asked.

"The Haggins? Oh sure, yeah, we get lunch every Tuesday," she said coldly.

Ivan sensed she was mocking him, so he pulled her in closer, making sure she could feel the flex of his bicep against her shoulder.

"I'll make it worth your time," he said into her ear. "It would be a private sale. No corporate involvement, no oversight from the university, nothing. No one else. Just us... How does three percent sound? Hmn?"

She didn't say anything, but he knew she'd heard him, because when he started rubbing her arm with his palm, she didn't flinch. Three percent of hundreds of thousands, or even millions of dollars? Who in their right mind could say no to that? Surely, not some broke college kid.

"That's what you really want, right?" his lips jerked into a smile, and unable to help himself, he kissed her ear. "Money."

Again, she didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away from him either. His hand easily traveled from her arm to her breast, squeezing through the fabric of her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra, probably didn't have the time to get fully dressed when she ran out of the attic, and for some reason the idea of her sitting there with her bra and panties stuffed in her pockets made the situation even hotter for him.

He kissed the side of her neck to her jawline, but this turned out to be too much for her to handle, and she jerked her head to the side again while he rolled his eyes, waiting for the excuses. Instead, she stared at him, her eyebrows creasing together warily.

"Why?" she asked. "Why me? I mean, don't you have every possible tool at your disposal to get this done on your own? It doesn't make sense."

He'd expected this line of questioning, although not from her. He'd already given vague answers to his friends about the situation with his inheritance, ever careful to cover his bases so that nobody got suspicious about why he wasn't driving around in a Maybach yet.

"It's complicated," he said. "All these assets - my old man's place, the art - are tied up in trusts and weird laws from the middle ages. You ever heard of Salic Law?"

She shook her head no.

"Me either," he shrugged. "A lawyer said it to me when I first started looking into this. Anyway. I can guarantee you that if any of those motherfuckers from the board find out I'm trying to do anything at all, the news will spread like Covid to my family, and they'll all be falling over themselves trying to stop me. My uncle, Joseth, may in fact, make an attempt on my life."

She raised her eyebrows at this, but he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and said, "I'm kidding," although he really wasn't.

"I don't pretend to understand them. It's like they're in some kind of cult together. Been this way since before I was born. They don't see dollars and cents, these people -- it's all art this and jewelry that. Some rich person's game they're playing and it's completely irrational in the modern day economy. Trust me."

She didn't say anything, so Ivan added. "It's not like the painting is doing anyone any good sitting in an attic collecting dust, right? And if it goes back to the museum, it'll just be locked up in storage, collecting dust somewhere else. What's the harm?"

"I don't know," she said cryptically.

They were heading into Lakeview, where the buildings were older and shorter, made of brick and lined with sports bars and restaurants. A college neighborhood, known for its cheap apartments and high-concentration of students.

Ivan tried to place why he remembered the area so well, but too many nights came to mind.

"All you have to do is setup a meeting with the Hagrid family," he continued. "You have access to the school computers, I don't. I'm sure there are records of a phone number or an email address or something. Just find that and you're halfway finished."

"What if someone see's?" she said, but Ivan only laughed.

For one, he knew he had her, now. He'd been right about her motives all along, and given how openly curious she was about his offer, he could tell she saw herself going along with his plan.

For another, her concerns were so juvenile.

"Don't let them?" he said, looking at her like that should have been obvious.

"It's a computer," she supplied with a bit of a whine creeping into her voice. "What if it, like, can tell what I'm searching for? Or something."

"You're thinking too much," Ivan said, letting his arm fall from her shoulder, to her waist. "Look up the number, set the meeting. That's all you have to do."

"Okay. And what do you do?"

He raised his eyebrows. "What do I do? What kind of asinine fucking question-?" He said in a lower tone of voice. "None of this happens without me. I close. I exist."

Her silence told him she got the point not to question him, and after a long pause, she finally said. "If I do this, will you go away forever?"

"Oh honey. That was my intention from the start," he smiled, but she didn't seem to find the situation at all funny.

The car had stopped while they were talking, and noticing this, she was suddenly very eager to get out, unbuckling her seatbelt and throwing the passenger side door open like the vehicle was going up in flames.

"Fine," she said. "I'll- I'll look. Thanks for, uh, chaperoning, or whatever. Bye."

It was almost like she tried to close the car door in his face, but he caught the handle and stepped out behind her, exchanging one last smile with the driver as he patted the back of his chair with a quick, "Thanks bud."

The rain had slowed a little, but was still coming down hard enough to make him raise one hand over his eyes to see clearly. When he again laid eyes on Serafine, she was walking quickly in the direction of a wooden staircase attached to the side of two-story brick building.

It didn't take him long to catch up, in fact, he was beginning to enjoy the lengths of this particular chase. Usually, it didn't take him this long to get what he wanted, and it made following this girl feel like he was really hunting this time.

He loved the thrill of it. The changing scenery, the way his words were obviously chipping away at her resolve. If she didn't want to be around him, why did she keep agreeing to these little trysts? Not everyone was able to pick up on body language like he was, but he'd had a lot of practice wearing down the opposite sex, and knew that at this point, it was more a matter of keeping close.

"Ivaughn," she said when he got to the top of the stairs beside her, stopping with the keys still in the doorknob.

"Oh, it's Ivaughn now?" he teased, but her voice had taken on a serious tone, more earnest than he'd ever heard her.

"My roommate is probably home. Like? I'm being serious. You have to go."

"So tell them I'm seeing you home safely."

"Well, I am home. Safely. See? So...good night." she said, trying to take a stance at the doormat, but he noticed her hands trembling, and her voice was practically hysterical.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Her willpower was nothing compared to his, and there was a fifty percent chance she was lying about someone else being home, anyway. Just another one of those things he'd trained himself to look out for with women.

He reached for the doorknob, ignoring the way her eyes widened as he walked inside ahead of her. A second later, she was ducking under his arm, trying to block his path.

"Ivaughn," she whispered desperately, one finger over her mouth in a shushing gesture. "What are you doing?"

Looking around, he was struck by how cramped and close together everything was. The entire apartment could've fit into his bedroom closet, and the furniture was all cheap and mismatched. A coffee table made of particle board, visibly sunken sofa cushions, papers and dirty cups and books all over the place.

Even in his earliest years of university, his family's wealth had provided lavish apartments and a trust fund to cover all his expenses. And even after being kicked out of school and cut off, he quickly learned the ropes of real estate in Chicago and established himself.

He'd never lived a day in his life like this, and it turned out that being confronted by the plight of the average American college student was just as another way to get his dick hard.

To his surprise, she'd been telling the truth about her roommate, because directly behind her, down a narrow hallway, Ivan could see light emanating from under a closed door and heard the distinct static of a shower. Different from the rain, he calculated that he had at least five minutes before anyone interrupted them, ten if the roommate in question was a girl.

With as badly as he needed to cum, that was plenty of time.

His eyes cut to Serafine and he watched her like a boxer watches an opponent in the ring. The way she stood left a lot of openings; face, neck, midriff, but he knew he had to be strategic with his approach. If she screamed and her roommate heard them, he'd have to leave early, and the night would be ruined.

Without any warning at all, he lunged for her, pressing his hand over her lips before she could open her mouth. Quickly wrapping his other hand around her throat, he backed her against a nearby wall, talking in a low tone while she made muffled noises into the palm of his hand and struck him with closed fists.

"Be quiet. Listen to me, be quiet. Quieeeeet," he repeated as she tried to jerk her face away from the ever-increasing pressure. "Stop that. Why are you being so difficult? Fuck. Just stand still. You want to get choked out for real?"

She wouldn't listen and tried kicking him several times, which left him no choice but to tighten his grip around her neck, until her mouth opened under his hand from the pressure.

When she gurgled something incomprehensible, he relaxed his grip a fraction. He usually practiced this maneuver on adult men at his MMA gym, and it was remarkable how much easier it was to do on a woman. Almost like he was meeting no resistance at all.

"Put your hands down," he growled when she raked her nails down his wrist, still making that gasping noise. When she didn't stop, he tightened his grip dangerously hard until she let go of him, her hands falling to her sides in balled fists and the whites of her eyes turning pink.

"Better," he said, easing the pressure on her neck so that she could take a few rapid breaths through her nose, chest heaving. She wasn't trying to scratch and kick him anymore, instead her eyes were cutting between him and the nearby hallway so rapidly that he looked over his shoulder.

But there was no one there.

The light was still shining under the bathroom door and Ivan could still hear the sound of the shower, now interspersed with high-pitched humming.

So, her roommate was a girl. Ten minutes, then.

He looked back at Serafine, pinned against the wall, a few strands of wet hair sticking to her forehead from the rain. Despite how she dressed, she had that distinctly feminine look about her that drove him crazy. Her long, curly hair and eyelashes, the delicate bone structure of her wrists and neck. She didn't have to do anything or dress up in any way to be sexy to him. Just standing there was enough for him to get off to -- but he wanted more than just her body. If the plan he had coming together in his mind to sell the painting was going to work, he needed to know that she was completely complicit... not just motivated.

"I need to be clear with you what working together means. For one, this isn't school. This is adult business and we're dealing with a lot of money here. So I need to know I can trust you. That you do what I say, when I say it, without question."

He removed his hand from her mouth slightly, and when she didn't scream, he stroked her jawbone to the lobe of her ear.

"For another, you're working with a man, honey. Like it or not, this is the expectation men have of you when they see you. All men. Looking the way you do, you should honestly be used to it by now."

She closed her eyes, holding back whatever it was she wanted to say with obvious difficulty. He liked the look of consternation on her face, and her silence only further confirmed the control he was gaining over her behavior, so he pushed further, figuring that if she was going to scream, she would've done it by now.

"How can I guarantee you're not going to tell anyone about what we're doing? Not your family, your professors, and especially not your little friends."

"I won't say anything," she said softly. "I promise. I swear."

He was pretty sure she wouldn't say anything. For one, she seemed very concerned about anyone seeing what was happening in the first place, and for another, he was offering her something that she badly wanted.

Needed, by the looks of this shithole apartment. Whether she was ready to admit that to herself or not... not his problem.

Money had so often been part of his lure for women that even this felt natural. He knew exactly what these broke bitches thought they were getting when they saw him. Access. Clout. A bit of a prince charming.

He loved the look on their faces when he shattered that image.

"Prove it. Get on your knees. Let's start with something easy," he said, already unbuckling his belt. When she didn't move, he reached for one of her tits and she lifted her arm to block him.

"Fuck you," she said quietly.

"Maybe later, when you deserve it," he said, unzipping his pants and pulling down his boxers just enough that his cock sprang free over the hem, already hard. "Right now I just want your mouth. So come on, get on the floor, against the wall. Show me how well can keep quiet."

When she still didn't move, he put his hand over her mouth again, this time grabbing her by the hair so she knew what was coming.

"No?" his tone was quietly dangerous, and sensing what was coming, she raised both hands defensively, saying something into his hand that sounded a lot like okay, okay, okay before sinking to her knees.

"Mhmmn, that's what I thought. I was starting to think you weren't taking this seriously," he said when she was on the floor. The sight of those bright blue eyes looking up at him would have easily been enough to make him cum under normal circumstances, but right now, the release of orgasm was not his immediate priority.

I need to own this bitch, he thought. Show her the only thing he expected her to use her mouth for when he was around. The sooner he established this dynamic, the sooner she'd play her role and figure out a way to deal with her feelings about it on her own, which would ultimately just make things easier for him in the long run.

Another one of life's many lessons.

She didn't immediately open her mouth when he put the tip of his cock on her lips like he expected. Instead, he could feel her teeth bared against him as he started to push, protesting him every step of the way.

"Come on," he said quietly. "You know what to do. Don't act like this."

She tried to turn her head away, but he held her firmly by the hair, ignoring the way her hands were pressing against his knees in protest.

"You're going to have a lot of explaining to do to your roommate if you don't hurry the fuck up," he warned, which seemed to be the magic words, because she stopped fighting him, and with her eyebrows creased together and her eyes screwed shut, parted her lips to accept him.