“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.”
“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 upset, yet she breathes in deeply and waves over the waitress who’s been hovering nearby.
“Are you ready to order?”
“Yes.” Gabriella hands the young woman the menu. “I want the fry up, while she’ll have the Eggs Benedict.”
“Perfect.” The waitress’s attention turns to my assistant with a blush. “And you?”
“Same. Fry up will do.”
“Okay.”
“Nothing for me. I’ve already eaten.”
“Would you like me to get you some fresh coffee instead, or something else?”
Mine has gone untouched so I nod, pushing the ceramic cup toward the center of the table. “An orange juice will suffice.”
“I’ll go put those in and be right back with your drink.”
Once the waitress is gone, Gabriella turns to look at me. And I love it. Her attention. “We could wait if you want, and go through the contract first?”
“Very thoughtful, Miss Moore, but what kind of man would I be if I made you starve on your birthday?”
There’s that hint of a blush again. So pretty. So innocent.
“To be honest, not a very nice one.” At her response, I chuckle. Beautiful and sassy. “But I also understand that you are a busy man and this isn’t your only stop for the day.”
“It isn’t.”
“All the more reason to—”
“Let me buy you breakfast and kick off your birthday celebrations.”
