Aida kept her smile plastered in place while she mingled with the people examining every inch of Owen’s paintings. She listened to them debate what he must have been thinking or feeling while painting this one and what message he was trying to convey in his art.
She bit her tongue against telling them he’d probably been lost in the moment and not thinking at all. He’d simply needed to get the images in his head out, and he did it with a brush and canvas. She also knew Owen well enough to know he wasn’t trying to convey any message; he loved to paint.
Usually, she enjoyed hearing their theories about what the artist was feeling or the statement he was trying to make, but tonight everything rubbed her the wrong way. She was too tired, and her emotions were still too raw. She dreamed of curling up in the corner, drinking a bottle of champagne, and passing out until morning.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, and neither was avoiding Owen. When he wasn’t busy charming his potential buyers, he was beside her, rambling on about how much they loved his work and the money he expected to earn tonight. He didn’t have to tell her any of that; she had ears too.
She didn’t say that to him but went into the cavernous storage room stuffed with empty crates, full crates, artwork, a couple of lockers, and a handful of caterers rushing to and from their van. They’d moved the alcohol into the room, but the appetizers they served remained in the refrigerators inside the van parked outside the open back door.
She retrieved another bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and brought it into the gallery. A woman in a white and black uniform gave her a smile when Aida reluctantly handed it over. Drinking a whole bottle seemed like the best worst idea she ever had. The champagne hangover would be worth it.
“Aida,” Nicolette said as she glided up to her. “Everything is going wonderfully.”
In her early fifties, Nicolette’s white hair was pulled into a bun that emphasized the loveliness of her barely lined face. Her steel gray eyes shone from excitement and the vibrant lights of the room. Owen wasn’t the only one who was going to make a fortune tonight, and Aida suspected Nicolette had dollar signs running through her mind right now.
“It is,” Aida agreed.
Nicolette’s eyes narrowed as she craned her head to inspect Aida more carefully. She rested her palm against Aida’s cheek and patted it. “Darling, you need to get more rest.”
Aida made herself smile. “Once the showing is over.”
Nicolette smiled before lifting her hand to wave at somebody behind Aida. “Make sure the champagne keeps flowing,” she said before she sauntered away.
“I’m on it,” Aida muttered.
She’d put so much work into this showing to be relegated to champagne bitch. Yikes, she was cranky and tired, she realized as she rubbed at her temples. Usually, this part only irritated her a little, but she had to look away from the pyramid of champagne glasses before she kicked the table over.
Aida glanced at the crowd of people and cringed. Most of the time, her favorite thing about showings was meeting new people. She recognized quite a few return buyers in the crowd tonight, but there were also new faces she normally went out of her way to meet. Instead, she returned to the storage room and sat on a crate. She dropped her head into her hands to rub at her temples.
She allowed herself a couple of minutes to wallow in her melancholy before shoving herself back to her feet and returning to the main room. A woman walked by with a tray of glasses, and Aida lifted a drink from it. She’d never consumed alcohol at a showing before, but she downed its contents in one gulp, coughed, and set the glass on another passing tray.
Feeling a little buoyed by the alcohol, she plastered on a smile and made her way through the crowd. She was talking with Alfred, an older gentleman who came to all of Nicolette’s showings, when she felt eyes burning into her.
The hair on her nape rose, her heart accelerated, and she knew Julian was there before she turned to find him standing across the room. Though he was speaking with a pretty, young blonde, his eyes were focused on her as a small smile curved the edges of his sexy mouth.
Aida’s teeth ground together, but she didn’t know if she was more annoyed by the fact he’d come to her work or by the woman laughing as she rested her hand on his forearm. Julian still wasn’t looking at the woman, but if he said, “Hey, want to have sex?” she would be out the door with him in a heartbeat.
She didn’t need this shit right now.
“He truly is a talented young man,” Alfred said to her. “Don’t you think?”
Aida tore her attention away from Julian to focus on Alfred again. In his early seventies, he had kind, sparkling blue eyes and a contagious smile. He was bestowing that smile on her now, and for the first time all night, Aida didn’t have to force it as she grinned back at him.
“Yes, he is,” she agreed. “This painting is my favorite of his.”
“Mine too.”
He rubbed his chin as he tilted his head to the side. Aida glanced at the painting of the storm-tossed sea and the threads of color woven into it. She’d realized a while ago she and Alfred often had similar taste in artwork.
“The thread and the colors make it so lovely,” she said.
Alfred smiled at her as he patted her hand. “Not as lovely as you, my dear.”
Aida squeezed his hand. “You’re too kind.”
He laughed as he released her. “If I were fifty years younger, you wouldn’t think me so kind as I’d be chasing you all over this town. Now, if you’ll excuse me, dear, I’d like to speak to Nicolette about this piece. I have the perfect place for it in my home.”
He had to live in a mansion with walls covered in the paintings he bought from here, never mind all the other galleries he frequented. She didn’t know what Alfred had done to make all his money, but he enjoyed spending it on art, which only made her like him more.
Aida felt the burn of Julian’s eyes against her back while watching Alfred walk away. She couldn’t turn and see him with that woman again, but she couldn’t stand there doing nothing. Meandering through the hallways, she mingled with the crowd as she made sure everyone had everything they needed.
Julian sipped his champagne while Aida moved through the crowd with ease. She hid her exhaustion well as she went from one person to another. Flushed with excitement, her skin glowed, and her eyes twinkled. She was in her element here, and he loved watching the joy she exuded.
He despised the way the men in the room watched her too. His hand clenched around his glass of champagne as their eyes followed her around the room. If it were possible for him to kill every one of them, he would.
He took a step to follow her into the hallway when the hand on his arm brought him up short. He’d forgotten all about the woman who attached herself to him shortly after he entered the gallery.
She protested when he grasped her hand and dislodged it from his arm. His inherent ability to attract partners to him was something he’d never welcomed, and he couldn’t deal with a clinger right now.
“Excuse me,” he said as he released her hand and followed Aida into the hallway. He ignored the woman’s stuttered protests as he focused on Aida and allowed her presence to calm him.
Aida stopped in front of another painting to admire the trees layered onto the canvas. She was only there for a minute before she felt Julian’s heat against her back. Her skin came alive as ripples of pleasure ran up her back. He shouldn’t be here, but she was glad he was.
“It’s interesting,” he murmured as he sipped his champagne.
She was about to ask him why he was here, but her words strangled in her throat when she turned to find his ravenous gaze on her. Many of the men at the showing wore tailored suits or sports jackets, but he’d donned a simple black sweater and a pair of blue jeans and looked lickable. His neatly trimmed, black beard added an air of mystery and dangerousness to him that some women loved.
“Your boyfriend did this?” he asked.
It took her a second to recall that Owen was kissing her when she first saw Julian. Was that only last night? So much had happened since that she’d forgotten all about it.
Then, her brow furrowed as his words sank in. He believed she would kiss him if she had a boyfriend? How could he think such a horrible thing about her?
Her teeth ground together as she turned back to the painting. She almost told him that Owen wasn’t her boyfriend, but she didn’t owe him an explanation.
“Owen painted everything in the gallery,” she said.
Julian realized she hadn’t confirmed or denied what Owen was to her. He should have asked her outright, but he was afraid of the answer. He didn’t think she would kiss him if she were dating someone else, and he knew she wouldn’t if she loved Owen, but he needed to know what the man was to her.
“I’m not much of a critic,” Julian said, “but I’m impressed.”
“Hmm,” Aida murmured.
She tried to ignore the way her skin prickled when he stepped closer and his hand brushed her arm. Was the oxygen being sucked out of the room? She tugged at the collar of her dress.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier,” Julian said. “But you look beautiful tonight.”
“I look like I haven’t slept in days.”
“Even if that were true, which it isn’t, you’re still beautiful.”
“Why are you here?”
“I appreciate art.”
“Julian…” Her voice trailed off when she realized she didn’t know what to say. “I have to get back to work.”
She began to turn away, but his fingers, enclosing loosely around her wrist, halted her. His flesh burned into hers, and before she could stop herself, the fingers of her other hand encircled his wrist. When she realized what she was doing, she let him go and tugged her arm away.
“I think the blonde would like to see you again,” Aida said and nodded to where the woman stood near the end of the hall. When Julian turned toward her, the woman turned her attention to the painting in front of her.
The wicked and teasing smile he gave Aida did funny things to her insides. “I prefer girls with darker hair.”
He lifted a tendril of black hair from her shoulder and ran the silken strand through his fingers. It shone in the lights, as did her golden eyes as she watched him like he was the predator about to pounce, and he definitely felt like pouncing as he stepped closer to her.