“...isn’t that right, Gabriella?”
“Run that by me again, please.”
Elise’s nose flares a bit. “That we are interested in taking the opening night for the summer series the Astor Gallery hosts every year. It’s going to be your first public appearance, and what better way than to come out—”
The blood in my veins pulses with ire. “No.”
“Were you not aware of her request?”
I ignore Theodore’s question and instead narrow my eyes at Elise, who has the audacity to seem taken aback. “Bathroom, now.”
“Gabriella, let’s—”
“Elise, I will not repeat myself. You have two minutes.” Turning my attention to Theodore, I give him a forced smile. “I apologize, but it seems my friend has given you the impression that I will be attending the show, and that is not feasible. I am anonymous for a reason and will stay that way. If that isn’t something you’re interested in, please let me know and I’ll apologize ahead of time for wasting your time.”
“No apologies needed. I thought ahead and just have a standard contract with me today. But once we agree on the terms, I’ll have it ready for your signature in less than twenty-four hours.”
“Smart man.” At my words, his lips quirk up at the right corner into a devilish smirk that both comforts and simmers the anger within. Without conscious thought, I find myself leaning over and placing a hand on his forearm, and his muscles tense beneath. They flex and my chest rises and falls rapidly, his scent pulling me in closer by an invisible thread that dominates my senses and bends my will. “Your rank just moved to number two.”
“Would you believe I was a Boy Scout?”
“Not really.” Theodore just doesn’t seem the type to go camping and work toward badges while following directions. The aura surrounding this man is confusing: good and bad. Holy and evil. “Unless you were the one giving orders.”
“Very astute of you.” His long pointer finger traces across the top of my hand and then around the underside of my wrist, lingering on my pulse point. “I’ve always been authoritative—a prepared man—but more so when it comes to something I want to acquire. To keep.”
“Should I be afraid?” Amber eyes settle on my green ones and hold me captive.
“Of me? Never.”
5
Theodore
Gabriella is simply stunning.
Breathtakingly so.
She has the kind of beauty that’s natural—dripping with a hidden sweetness meant to entice even those devoting their lives to sainthood. It’s there in each fiery strand of red hair and the gem-colored eyes that are currently glaring at her manager, or at least who presented herself to my office as this unique talent’s representative. The same woman who now refuses to go have a word with Gabriella and instead chooses to study the menu with in-depth concentration.
It’s all fake, and I’m not the only one who sees this.
“Can you please answer my earlier question, Mr. Astor?” Gabriella’s features relax when she looks over, her blood-red painted nails tapping twice on the tabletop. “Tell me what you need from me.”
“Please remind me, Miss Moore.” I won’t deny nor apologize for finding her beautiful. I’m neither blind nor a monk, and more than one man inside this room has taken notice of her as well. It’s there in the curves I had the pleasure of holding against my body, her heat searing my skin through layers of clothing, and yet, I felt her as if skin on skin.
So warm. So soft.
But then again, I’ve imagined her just like this for a while. More so after her photo landed on my desk, connecting the dots between her and the anonymous artist quickly gaining a following and the possibility to work together. However, the portfolio sent over didn’t do her or her artwork any justice. Because I know all about her pieces, own a few from showings she’s done over the last year at smaller galleries downtown, and what was sent to me isn’t her.
No. They actually looked nothing like what I know she’s capable of.
Gabriella’s work is provocative and edgy, not basic or unimaginative. She’s not flowers with the silhouette of a woman forcing femininity into a sexual box. She’s more hard strokes and deep colors, reds with black and a touch of gold—abstract or symbolisms are her area of expertise.
It fits her.
Wild. Free. Dark.
“So will you humor me?” I ask just as the server comes over with a carafe and a questioning glance around the table. No one answers, waiting for Gabriella to decide, and her nod makes me smile. The young lady serves everyone a cup silently and when done, I signal to my menu to say I’m still looking. She walks away and I look at Elise first, taking in her over-bleached hair and see the intentions in her eyes clear as day before returning my attention where it belongs. I’ve met people like her before, and crooked intentions never stay hidden for long. “Thank you.”
“None needed. I’m thankful for the opportunity to discuss the possibility of working together.” Her cheeks warm up a bit, and she fingers the neckline of her dress, a subconscious act that makes her more attractive. “But I’ll still need a minute with Miss Scott, if you don’t mind. We won’t be gone for long.”
“Of course.”
“Gabby, we can discuss this later. No bad vibes on your birthday.” Elise’s interjection doesn’t come off good-naturedly, and Gabriella notices this. After taking a single sip, she places her coffee mug down with a bit of force, and the people to the left of us look over.
There’s a furrow between her brows now that I want to smooth over with the tip of a finger, and then trace the contour of her cheek before cupping her chin and kissing the swollen lips the ripe color of berries that have been tempting me since our encounter outside. Her green eyes are blazing, her body language clearly
