“I’m standing right here.” If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people talking about me as though I’m not in the room. It’s rude and disrespectful, more so when I didn’t ask to spend my birthday talking business or having someone set up plans without my permission. “Now, introductions please.”

Both turn to look at me; one with amusement, and the other with a sour expression. I meet her hard stare head on and raise a challenging brow. I may be a softie at times, choosing my battles, but stubbornness is a trait I inherited from someone—they had to have been a master class teacher on the subject.

Elise giggles after a few seconds and reaches for my hand, pulling me to her side where she throws her arm casually over my shoulder. “This little girlish gem you helped out is the painter I’ve been talking to you about, Theodore. Meet Gabriella Moore.”

The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but I bite the inside of my cheek instead while looking away. Christ, that introduction made me sound like someone’s little sister and not the professional artist I am. I take back my interest in hiring her.

“I know who she is, Miss Scott. You did send her bio and picture with a few samples of her work to my assistant last week.” His tone isn’t as friendly as it’d been a few minutes ago when we’d been outside, and my brows furrow. I flick my eyes to Theodore and while I find an annoyed expression, the second our stares connect, his eyes soften at the corners and lips tug upward into a small smile. “It’s been an absolute pleasure to bump into you today, Gabriella.”

“Likewise.” And I find myself grinning back while holding up a hand with my fingers extended. “Definitely a top five in my first impression file, Mr. Astor.”

“Theodore, please.” But then his brow arches, and I find the action sexy. I truly need Jesus today. “Is that so? Just top five.”

I nod nonchalantly. “You’re sitting at a solid three.”

“Maybe by the end of today I can slide into the top position?”

“Once we sign that contract, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy I set this up.”

At Elise’s words, I frown and turn to look at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” she asks, but her attention is on Theodore. Her body language is flirtatious, twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger while cocking a hip out. I’m reminded of the halls of my high school and every time a girl crushing hard stood near her obsession. And she’s older than me. “But let’s all sit down and order. We have much to discuss.”

“Lead the way.” Theodore waits for her to turn around and then winks at me before tilting his head in her direction, silently asking that I walk ahead of him. The simple act makes my cheeks feel warm and I quickly follow Elise, trying to calm down my blushing before taking a seat to her left. Not that it lasts long because Mr. Astor takes his place beside me while leaving two empty chairs between himself and Elise, something that makes my friend frown. “My assistant, Tero, will also be joining us this morning. He’ll be here shortly.”

His explanation doesn’t appease her, but she keeps that smile bright. “Of course. Should we wait, or—”

“I’m here.” All eyes turn toward a younger man, more in my age range than theirs, that takes one of the empty seats while placing a portfolio bag atop the other beside him. He’s pale with nearly-white blond hair, but it’s the eyes that are striking in a shade reminiscent of pastel blue. So clear. So expressive. “My apologies for the delay. I was stuck behind a small fender bender that forced the two-lane road to become a total standstill.”

“No worries. We were all running a bit behind schedule,” I answer while picking up my menu, perusing the choices even though my eyes keep coming back to their fry up, which I’ve had more than once. It’s just what I need after the rough night and...

That’s when I notice that for once, I’m not nauseous after taking the prescribed sleeping aid. I have no stomachache or a migraine. No dry mouth with a sensitivity to light.

Did I confuse the Melatonin for the harsher stuff? Normally food would be the last thing on my mind after waking from a deep sleep like that.

“...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

G

abriella 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.”