Sick Like Me (A Miss Hyde Novella Book 4)

by Kindra Sowder

  My eyebrows rose, and I dropped my hand, taking my first step into his apartment. Even the building was new to me, only being built the year prior in Brooklyn which, I had to admit, I hardly ever ventured into. There wasn’t a reason for me to since most of the artists I dealt with lived in either Manhattan or the Bronx depending on what state their career was in.

  “I can see that. You’re not creating a masterpiece unless you get dirty.” I made a show of looking him up and down before my stare returned to his face. “How did you know it was me?”

  His grin grew even wider as he pushed the door closed behind me with a bare foot.

  “I’d know that walk anywhere, Miss McAlister.”

  “Please, call me Blythe,” I insisted, feeling slightly unnerved by the statement.

  Emmett began to walk further into the apartment, and I followed quietly. The foyer opened up into a massive living room with a floating fireplace set in stone at its center surrounded by beautiful, sleek furniture.

  The silent admission made me smile like a love-struck school girl. I tilted my head, and our eyes met, his deep browns sultry in that moment. He was attractive. Extremely attractive and any woman with eyes could see that. The refreshing thing was that he was one of those men that knew he was striking but didn’t use it to lure women into his bed. He typically acted as if he was like any other average Joe. I could tell him he wasn’t, but I wasn’t about to.

  “You’ve studied my walk, Emmett?”

  His cheeks flushed an adorable pink before he looked away and began to walk further into the apartment. I followed, heels clicking on the hardwood floor while he led the way.

  “I hate that you had to miss our last appointment. You were sick?” he probed.

  I watched the muscles in his back roll underneath his smooth skin while he walked. It reminded me of a jungle cat on the prowl, its pray unaware it was being stalked at all.

  “Yeah, but I’m okay now. I promise I won’t be getting you sick,” I replied.

  “I’m not worried about that, Blythe, I don’t get sick a lot,” he laughed. “I’ll show you my latest. See if you guys are interested.”

  “I can assure you we will be.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes, Hannah is very interested to see if you have more in the series from the last exhibition. It flew off the walls quickly. Quicker than anything else we’ve sold, if I’m going, to be honest. So,” I grinned sheepishly, “do you?”

  “That I do,” he glanced back at me and grinned, “I can’t seem to get the images out of my head unless I get them on a canvas.”

  “Well then, by all means.” I held my hand out in the direction he had been leading me.

  He directed me to a small flight of stairs that looked to lead up into a loft. The modern apartment was something I hadn’t expected on this side of Brooklyn. It led me to believe that he had remodeled the flat, which wasn’t uncommon in Brooklyn since most of the buildings were extremely old and were in desperate need of repairs. I followed him up the sleek, wooden stairs. The sight before me when I rose to the landing stunned me, leaving me speechless. When he said he had more paintings for the previous series, he hadn’t been exaggerating. If anything, he had made a gross understatement.

  Paintings of a beautiful red-head with one green eye and one brown lined the far wall. Natural sunlight filtered in and I could see why he chose this place within the apartment to do his work. Every color within the paintings, the reds and the peaches and the blues, all of them were made more radiant by the yellow sun.

  “Wow,” I breathed.

  Emmett laughed and turned toward me, walking backward to come to stand in the very center of the large studio. The light moved around his body in such a way that he was even more stunning than his works surrounding him. With arms outstretched and eyes sparkling with excitement, he opened his mouth to speak.

  “I know, right?”

  I looked at him and tilted my head slightly. His confidence amused me somewhat even though it was completely warranted.

  “Someone’s full of themselves,” I joked.

  “Actually, I’m really not. And I’m really shy too,” he replied with a wink.

  The flirtatious laughter escaped my mouth unbidden. “So I’ve heard.” I returned the wink and walked past him to survey the paintings.

  Each one was unique, but all contained the same central figure. The one to catch my eye portrayed the woman I came to realize was me before that moment, lying on a bed much like the one Johan and Mitch had tied me to. My screams and the sound of the still beating heart I had held in my hands echoed through my skull. Closing my eyes, I shook them away as best I could without Emmett seeing the gesture. I opened my eyes and quickly turned my head to look at another. One more erotic stood before me on its easel. The woman now stood in the center of a large room dressed in a red negligée that reached to the floor and dipped down in the front to show off the mounds of her breasts.

  “What do you think?” Emmett asked from right behind me.

  His warm breath brushed my neck and caused my hair to move along my shoulder. It was a welcome sensation and, strangely enough, Hyde never stirred. It was the first time since walking into the apartment that I noticed she did not react Emmett at all. The thrilled as well as unnerved me. I turned my head to look back at him, our breaths mingling seductively. He stared down at me, eyes on my bare neck to move up to my lips.

  “They’re, ummm,” I licked my lips nervously with anticipation. I wanted him to kiss me. There was no doubt about it. I wasn’t hindered by the reality of Hyde with him, it seemed, and I battled with myself on whether to take advantage of it. “They’re…”

  “They’re what?” he asked huskily.

  Just as a sigh pushed for my lungs my cell phone rang in my purse on my shoulder, buzzing and singing against my ribcage. Startled, Emmett took a step back, his brown eyes still smoldering with an inferno from deep inside.

  Opening my purse, I reached into it and plucked my phone from its silken cocoon.

  “I’m so sorry.” I looked at the caller id on the touch screen. Hannah, my boss’s name, showed up, flashing in bright white letters. “It’s Hannah. I have to take this.”

  He nodded. “Go ahead. It’s all right.”

  “I’m sorry,” I stated again as I swiped my thumb over the tiny green phone on the touchscreen.

  Again, all he did was nod, walking toward the paintings as I walked away from them and closer to the stairs we had just walked up. I placed the phone to my ear and plugged the other with my index finger so I could hear her better, nearly dropping the tiny purse on the floor and down the stairs.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I caught it between my fingers. “Hannah?”

  “Blythe? Now is that a way for a lady to talk?” Hannah nearly cried out in shock at the profane word.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I apologized.

  “Blythe, is everything all right? This isn’t like you,” Hannah probed.

  “I’m okay, I promise. Just still a little out of sorts, but feeling much better. I promise,” I replied. For some reason, I wanted to continue apologizing to her and couldn’t stop the remorseful words from slipping from between my lips. “I’m so sorry, Hannah.”

  “It’s fine, dear. I can’t act like I’ve never let a dirty word slip every now and then. So,” she continued, “are you with Mr. Adler?”

  “I am.” I slid my purse over my opposite shoulder and looked back at Emmett who watched me with immense fascination and that same heat in his eyes as before. Nothing from my alter ego. Not even a lick of or slice of electricity.

  “And? What do you think? Does he have more paintings like the ones from the previous exhibition?”

  “He does have more. A lot more.”

  I glanced over my shoulder again, and he smirked at me before turning away and toward the canvas of the central figure in the red negligee. His shoulders worked seductively as he spun a brush around in the paint stained cloth in his hands. There was
a small twinge in my belly, and the way his muscles slid underneath his perfectly tanned skin piqued my arousal.

  “And what do you think? Do you think we can sell them as well as the others?” Hannah inquired further.

  Nodding, I turned away from him and stared down the steps in front of me. After realizing she couldn’t see it, I answered, “Absolutely. They’re more beautiful than the originals.”

  And it was the God’s honest truth. If I were going, to be honest about anything, it would be that. Emmett was a highly skilled artist, making me wonder what else his talented hands could do. I cleared my throat and smoothed down the front of my dress just to give me something to do, trying to ignore the twinge of pure animal lust inside of me that I was thankful had nothing to do with Hyde at all. It did make me wonder, though. What was it about him that turned her into a silent, almost absent, presence? It was something I had noticed when I saw him at the last exhibition of his work but didn’t pay longer than a few seconds of attention to. Now it was glaring, but I still had a job to do.

  “Then talk to him about letting us sell them for him, dear. If anyone can do it, you can,” she stated.

  I blushed, a blaze rising into my cheeks and a flush through my neck and chest as I stood there in his apartment. All too aware of his presence behind me, even if it were at least ten feet away.

  “Will do, Hannah.”

  “I have faith in you, Blythe. And please come by after you leave him. I have something for you.”

  “I’ll see you shortly,” I promised. “Bye, Hannah.”

  “Bye,” she said playfully.

  Rolling my eyes, I ended the call and placed my phone back into the safe confines of my purse. I spun around to look at Emmett and smiled, broad and professional with no trace of the lust that sliced through my belly and chest. All traces of the blush were gone.

  “Well, Mr. Adler, Hannah would like to sell your works at the gallery again. For a commission, of course. Just like with the last exhibition.” I paused, batting my eyelashes slightly in a flirtatious manner like I had to sell him on the idea. “That’s if you want to sell them with us again. We would love to have you.”

  He chuckled and glanced back at me, eyebrows perked with amusement.

  “All business again, I see,” he observed with a nod. “I get it.”

  He turned around completely with the cloth and paint brush still gripped in one hand. Gliding toward me on bare feet, his smirk grew from one filled with playfulness to one of serious contemplation. When he stopped in front of me, only inches from touching, he reached out with his empty hand and grazed my arm softly with a finger which caused a trickle of fire to lick up my center.

  “Don’t want to mix business with pleasure, Blythe?” he asked with a playful lilt to his voice.

  I had to fight the urge to touch him back, pulling my arm away gently and setting my eyes on his face instead of his impeccably muscular chest underneath his shirt.

  “My offer stands, Mr. Adler. You can take it or leave it. I promise we can fetch you a great price for these,” I pushed forward, giving off the same air of competence I had walked through the door with.

  His eyes fell in disappointment at the change in my demeanor. I needed to give off the air of professionalism again. I couldn’t be snagged by the artist with the movie-star good looks. The man that would only have to ask for whatever he wanted and I would give, especially with Hyde’s absence looming over me like a dark shadow. Then again, that same lack of her presence scared me. Also, the startling images in the paintings that looked so much like Cyra’s that I couldn’t help but notice the similarities. Was he like her? Or was it something else? Was it a coincidence? I was almost beginning to believe there was no such thing as coincidences. Watching him carefully, I waited for his answer. A large part of me, at my fear of the lack of response from the other half of myself, wanted to turn and walk down the stairs to leave the apartment altogether. I made the turn to do so, but then he spoke, stopping me in mid-stride.

  “I see, Miss McAlister,” he relented, defeated.

  He had wanted so much more than just the gallery deal. That much had been evident from the start.

  “You do?” I asked. One eyebrow perked up in surprise.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “And you’ve got a deal, Miss McAlister.”

  I nodded and grinned, relieved that it didn’t seem he was going to point out how quickly the state of our dynamic changed when faced with a call from my boss.

  “Thank you, Mr. Adler.” I took a step forward with my hand outstretched toward him. He took my hand in his and gave it a firm shake. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you again.”

  Chapter 3

  The gallery was a bustle of activity, Lauren practically running in her stilettos to keep up with everything happening. I had been out of the loop for at least two days, so I had no inclination of what was going on. But I was certain I’d be filled in shortly regardless. Especially since Hannah wanted me to come in. It had to be something big. Either way, Hannah was nowhere to be seen. Only Lauren and who I assumed was a new receptionist were visible, the short woman trying to keep up with Lauren’s long strides without toppling over with a legal pad in her hand, scribbling notes.

  “Lauren,” I called out.

  Her attention snapped to me, and her eyes sparkled as a grin spread over her pale pink painted lips.

  “Blythe,” she exclaimed.

  I walked toward her quickly, taking each step as carefully as I could to avoid colliding with anyone.

  “What’s going on?” I asked when I finally approached her.

  “We gotta walk and talk, babe. Walk and talk,” she said. She glanced back at the slight blonde following her in high heels and an awful mint green dress. “This is Mary. Mary, this is Blythe. Mary is our new receptionist, and she’s getting a crash course today, aren’t you, Mary?”

  “Ye...yes,” Mary stammered.

  “I can assure you it’s not always this hectic,” I stated. “Lauren, you want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Oh, ummm, yeah,” she began while signing a form I recognize brought to her by a very random person. She scribbled her typical chicken scratch and started walking again toward the front of the gallery. “A very last-minute exhibition for Cyra that Hannah just had to schedule. It’s one of the reasons I called you so many times.” She shot me an apologetic look. “You know how Hannah is. She gets a new artist that makes money in her clutches, and she just can’t let go.”

  “Speaking of,” I said, “where is she?”

  “Office,” she stated as she pointed toward the ceiling.

  “Any idea why she wants to see me? Does it have anything to do with me being out, does it?”

  “I don’t think so. I mean, you’ve never been out before. I wouldn’t sweat it. Just go up there and see what she wants. I’m sure everything is fine.”

  I sighed and began my trek toward Hannah’s office. “I guess I’ll be up in the dragon’s lair if anyone needs me.”

  Without another word, and Lauren too distracted to say anything else, I nearly sprinted across the floor and up the stairs. Standing at the closed door, my heart began to beat frantically in my chest as sweat broke out across my forehead and down my back. Lauren’s assurance had done nothing for my nerves, especially after everything I had been through and what I had just learned about myself and my past. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the time to stop living outside of my seemingly supernatural problems. Life always continued to tick by. Raising my hand, I wrapped on the door with my knuckles softly. The door swung open in a matter of seconds, and Hannah’s smiling face greeted me.

  “Blythe,” Hannah greeted with excitement and happiness. “I am so happy to see you. Please, please, come in. I have some amazing news.”

  Hannah turned on her heel and walked back to her desk, lowering herself into her chair as I followed her inside. The desk was a mess of papers and pens, her computer screen blinking with the life of whatever she seemed
to be researching. I closed the door and quickly took my place in the chair opposite her beaming face, placing my small purse in my lap and crossing my legs at the ankles.

  “I’m so sorry about being unreachable, Hannah. That’s not like me…,” I started to apologize.

  She held up a hand to silence me.

  “Oh, dear, I don’t care about that. Your health is most important. Plus, you’re irreplaceable. Especially after the phone conversation, I had a couple of days ago.”

  “What do you mean?” I probed, leaning forward slightly in my chair.

  “Have you ever heard the name Adam Burnside?” Hannah asked, leaning forward and placing her elbows on her desk. Her eyes burned with the question, plus so much more she didn’t seem to be willing to ask.

  “I can’t say that I have,” I replied, confused. The first name was one that I recognized, but Cyra had never given me a last name. It made me question if he was the same Adam or not.

  “Well, he called me two days ago and made a very specific request. He is Cyra’s investor. I’ll just give you the gist of the conversation we had. He has asked that you are the one to handle any and all dealings between Cyra and the gallery. Basically, her exhibitions and any works we sell for her, you are our go-to girl. You understand?”

  I nodded quietly, stunned. This was not just very specific, but very odd. No one had ever done this before.

  “You are the star of my gallery, Blythe. Everyone wants to work with you but, considering how prophetic Cyra is, this will be your responsibility. With Lauren assisting, of course,” Hannah moved on to explain.

  “Will I be meeting Mr. Burnside?”

  “Eventually but, for now, no. You will deal face-to-face with Cyra. This was the only request that he had. And I am inclined to give it to him considering how much she brings into the gallery. Is this something you are willing to do?”

  “Yes,” I muttered, my voice coming out in a shocked squeak. Clearing my throat, I repeated, “Yes. As always, Hannah. Anything you ask.”