by Melody Anne
I smiled, getting ready to say something. But I knew the second we were no longer alone. A mask fell over my face. Bella felt the change and smiled at me in the most calculating way as she fluttered her lashes, a mask of her own coming into place.
“I’d love to see where you make these incredible creations,” she said. It took me a moment to realize she was playing a game. Miranda was drawing closer to us, though neither of us had given any indication we knew.
I could play a game too.
“That’s only for my most special clients,” I told her with a hint of flirtiness in my voice. If this woman was about to destroy my marriage I could make her think I wanted her right before I cast her aside. We’d just have to wait and see exactly where this was going next.
Miranda reached us.
“Yes, only the most special get to see the studio,” Miranda said as she placed her arm through mine possessively. I smiled again at Bella, almost a dare. She could keep playing, or she could destroy my marriage. She knew if she did she had zero chance of getting her way.
Bella turned toward Miranda. It was the first time they’d been face to face. She gave Miranda an assessing look, as if wondering if she was actual competition. I stood there wanting to do something but not knowing exactly what I should do.
“I’m Miranda, Mason’s wife,” Miranda said, holding out her free hand. I was impressed. She was obviously pissed, full of jealousy at having found me with the petite blonde, but she was keeping her composure. Impressive. I watched and waited to see what would happen next.
Bella didn’t react. She took a second too long to respond. Most people wouldn’t have noticed the pause.
“I’m Bella,” she said. “I was just telling Mason how impressed I am. I have an exclusive clientele that loves original pieces. They love to find up-and-coming artists and buy their early work before they go viral. It makes them feel as if they can spot true talent, which to be honest, they are very good at.”
She was including Miranda in her game. If the wife wanted to hire her, she figured Mason would be left with no choice. She was smooth.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bella,” Miranda said. Her words were polite, but there was a bite to her tone telling Bella it was anything but a pleasure.
“You as well,” Bella said. She then turned back to me, done with pretending to give a damn about my wife.
“I will definitely talk with you more,” she practically purred to me.
It was both a threat and a promise. And I was intrigued, wondering what she was planning to do next.
She reached into a slim pocket and pulled out an expensive card, leaving me with no choice other than to hold out my hand. She skimmed my palm with her fingertips as she placed it there. She smiled, turned, and walked away. I didn’t need to see her exit. I’d seen it many times before.
I shook off my visit with Bella before looking at my wife. “Are you having a good time?” I asked.
I was suddenly exhausted. It had been a long day, and my head was spinning with this new twist in my life. It was obvious Miranda had no clue of my relationship with Bella. She thought she was simply another person I’d met tonight. I should have felt guilty about that . . . but I refused to feel guilt.
Miranda didn’t hesitate before replying, “It’s been a beautiful night. How are you doing?” She reached up and ran a finger along my jawline then over my bottom lip. I felt a twinge of guilt since Bella had done essentially the same thing.
I pulled away from her. “I’m tired. It’s been a lot of talking.”
She shifted in front of me and wrapped her arms around me. She had to reach up to find my lips. I kissed her back, but there was no passion in it. There was too much on my mind. She pulled back slightly, trying to hide her hurt. She looked at me as if trying to read my soul.
“How about we go home? The crowd has thinned.”
The thought of going home revived me, and I wrapped an arm around her and smiled. “The gallery did say it was good for me to make a timely exit.”
She gripped my hand as we walked from the studio. I didn’t see Bella anywhere as we slid out a back door. I tried to lighten my mood on the drive home, making small talk with Miranda, but my heart wasn’t in it.
We made love that night — but it wasn’t great. My mind was somewhere else. My life was continuing to change. I definitely found pleasure, but it was empty. It was sex — only sex. We hadn’t really made love in a very long time — we’d go even longer after this.
I was losing my wife. I knew that. I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to let her go. I was a bastard for not doing it right then.
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t see Bella again for nearly a year. My marriage didn’t get any better. Miranda and I made our trips to the coast so we could visit my mother and her father, and our sex life continued to dwindle.
But we shifted in our relationship. Though the passion was gone, she was still someone incredibly important to me. I needed her in my life. I didn’t see her as my wife anymore. It was odd how that can change.
It didn’t happen overnight. But the intimacy between us stopped. We let each other go in every way except our marriage. Soon we’d go months without making love — but we slept in the same bed each night.
It wasn’t a good way to live. It left too many doors open for someone to slip inside.
I was finishing a meeting downtown with a private investor when I saw Bella sitting at an outdoor table, a cup of coffee in her hand, her bare legs crossed, a smirk on her lips. She wasn’t looking at me, but I had no doubt she was aware I’d spotted her.
I shook the man’s hand and told myself to walk in the other direction, told myself no good could come from me talking to this woman.
I ignored my own advice. I moved toward her. She didn’t look up, didn’t shift her position. She waited. Bella was a woman who liked men to come to her. She was a woman who liked getting her way.
I sat. Then I waited.
I wondered who would break first. Finally, she looked over at me, her expression unchanged. She sipped her coffee and gazed over the rim of the mug. I still said nothing.
“How are you, Mason?” she finally asked.
“Don’t you know?” I responded.
She laughed as she set the mug down.
“Of course I know. It’s a courtesy question that means absolutely nothing,” she told me.
“I appreciate your honesty,” I told her.
“I know. There are many things you appreciate about me,” she said as she raised her hand, letting her fingers trail along the line of her plunging neckline. Of course it drew my gaze. Her smile grew.
“Are you bored, Bella? Are you looking for someone to play with?”
“I’m always game for playing with someone,” she told me.
“And you think you’re a worthy enough opponent to play with me?” I questioned.
She laughed again. “I think you’re the only one capable of playing to my standards,” she told me.
This time my smile was real. I enjoyed this odd flirtation. I enjoyed her. I hated that I did. I could push her to tell me what this newest visit was about, but she’d enjoy my impatience. It was better for me to wait it out.
It didn’t take long.
“I want to take you to New York. I have a client you’ll fit well with. It will change everything for you,” she said.
My interest was piqued. I didn’t show that.
“I told you I don’t want to work with you,” I said.
“And we both know you’ll sell your soul if it makes you a better artist, so quit denying you want my help,” she countered.
“I’ve sold my soul already. It’s not up for grabs.”
“When you married that country bumpkin?” she asked with a laugh.
My smile fell away. “Leave Miranda out of
this.” My words were steel.
Her smile fell away. “You’re awfully protective for a man not in love with his wife.”
“If you want to continue talking to me you won’t say another word about my wife,” I said. My tone didn’t change, my volume didn’t rise, but I saw the dawning awareness in her eyes. I saw her reevaluation of the situation.
It took her only seconds to compose herself again.
“My client has an exclusive audience, and he loves new artists. You’ll be so busy you won’t have time for anything but your art,” she told me. She was taking me seriously. Her intelligence was one thing that attracted me to her.
Most people would run from an offer like that. But Bella knew me well enough to know I’d be intrigued even more. My art was my life. If I could take it to the next level I might feel more settled.
“Tell me,” I said, having to give this round to her.
She smiled in victory.
I never should’ve gone to her table that day. I should’ve walked away the moment I saw her. I knew it would change my life. I was going down a dangerous road.
But even now I can’t regret it. I did go into business with Bella . . . and it led to so much more. It led to me morphing into this man I am today. I didn’t belong to Bella. But I also didn’t belong to Miranda. I wasn’t the man she’d married.
I was a stranger to her. I was a stranger to my family. I was able to find my old self once in a while, but most of the time he wasn’t there. With each new piece of art I shed a little bit more of my old self, and I wasn’t quite sure what would immerge in the end.
I’m still not sure.
Chapter Twelve
Time marched forward rapidly from that moment. I tried to keep track. I didn’t celebrate my birthday, and Miranda didn’t celebrate hers. We spent time with family during the holidays, but I almost resented those intrusions into my other world.
But I stayed married. I still tried to act like a normal human being, a normal husband, son, and brother. I wasn’t even sure what normal was anymore.
I kept my life with Miranda separate from my work world. Miranda wasn’t a part of my business trips, my gallery openings, my world of people in the art community. She wasn’t a part of my creations.
And I wasn’t a part of her world either.
We both continued going through the motions, but neither of us could explain why.
What I did know, though, was she was searching for herself. Going from job to job and finally going back to school. I was disinterested, I wasn’t sure of her major. My lack of interest was once again making me feel like a failure, a failure of a man and husband.
I still didn’t let her go.
We came close one night — the night Bella came to our house.
There was a lot of sexual tension between Bella and me. After a while, I realized I fed on that feeling. Being around her made my body stir, made my frustrations grow, made my art better.
I knew all it would take was one simple word and I could have her beneath me in a bed. Hell, I could have her against a wall, a table, in the back seat of a car. She wanted me, but she was too prideful to push it beyond words, touches, and looks. I enjoyed the game. I enjoyed how it made me feel. I enjoyed how it made my art better.
There was a knock on my door late one night when Miranda was still at school. I ignored it. The next knock was louder. I flipped off my music, irritated at being interrupted.
I pulled open the door ready to tell the person to go the hell away. It was Bella holding a bottle of wine and a wearing a huge smile on her sinfully red lips. The smile seemed genuine, which was unusual for her. Her expressions were normally very calculated.
“Hello, Mason.”
“What are you doing at my house?” I asked. My arm blocked the doorway. I knew it was wrong for her to be there. Nothing had technically happened between us since I’d married Miranda, but this was my ex, and we were still talking, and we had a past Miranda knew nothing about. We also had a present Miranda knew nothing about.
“Let me in and I’ll tell you about it,” she said. “I did tell you I wanted to see your art studio some day.”
“Why the wine? Why the smile?” I asked, still not opening the door.
“If you let me in, I’ll tell you,” she insisted.
We were stubborn enough we could stand at that door all night, neither of us backing down. The genuine emotion on her face was enough for me to give in first. I opened the door wide, and she sashayed in.
She looked around for a moment, and I knew she was judging my house. I didn’t care. I liked the place, and Miranda loved it. That was all that mattered in the end. She easily found my kitchen, and I sighed as I followed her. She opened a cupboard, which irritated me. I stopped her and pulled open the one with the glasses.
She pulled two out and opened the red wine, smelling it with a happy sigh. She poured two generous glasses.
“Tell me,” I said.
She picked up the bottle and moved toward the back of the house. My studio wasn’t difficult to find. She walked in, her smile growing as she gazed at my many pieces of work around the room, some finished, some that would never be completed.
I followed her and didn’t say a word when she doubled back and shut the door. We’d been in many closed rooms before. And there was no way in hell I’d allow something to happen with her in this house.
If I hated my wife that wouldn’t matter, but I didn’t hate her.
“Paul Jenore has agreed to your price,” Bella said as she finished her glass of wine. She picked up the bottle and refilled her glass.
I was stunned.
I’d thought of something new and never done, something that might make me happy, that might make me stand out as one of the greats, something I’d been toying with for a while. I’d put an outrageous amount on it, not expecting a response, not expecting enthusiasm this soon. I hadn’t cared — or I told myself I didn’t care. But if someone was interested that meant I was truly on the right path.
“When?” I asked. I didn’t want to allow myself to get excited, but I could feel it brewing inside me. My lips turned up and I finished my own glass of wine. I accepted the refill.
“One hour ago,” she told me. “I stopped for a bottle of wine, wanting to tell you in person.”
“When I began this career I didn’t think I’d care if I sold a single piece, if my name was ever known,” I admitted. “But then I realized I wanted to do something different. I wanted to be remembered.”
“Of course you want to stand out. You’re Mason Kendrick. You don’t hide in the shadows,” she told me with a laugh.
“I also have that information you’ve been begging me for,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.
I didn’t want to react, but it was difficult not to. This was one more game between the two of us. It seemed we played a lot of them.
She laughed, the wine most likely adding to her glee. Her normal restraint was thrown out the window this evening. I was feeling a bit light-headed with my own happiness. This was a disaster waiting to happen. Still I couldn’t stop the next words. I couldn’t stop the back and forth between us — even in this house. Even knowing how wrong it was.
“If you show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” I said, clearly aware of the double meaning. Her lips turned up as lust rushed through her eyes. I felt my body respond.
She placed her hand on my chest and started leaning toward me when the door was pushed open. We both turned. There was only one person who’d be coming inside. Maybe this would be the thing that ended my marriage. Maybe that was for the best.
I masked my expression. I technically hadn’t done anything wrong. I knew Bella shouldn’t be there, but she wasn’t my lover, wasn’t even my friend. But there was something there between us, and to have her in my wife’s house was breaking the worst of vows. I could
admit that.
“What’s so amusing?” Miranda asked. She moved slowly as she approached us. This time she didn’t touch me. I could feel fury shaking her body. I decided to see what Bella was going to say again. Maybe I wanted it to be over with Miranda and Bella. Maybe I wanted to be free.
“Mason and I were discussing the next show,” Bella easily lied. “We might be meeting quite late tonight.” None of that was true. Bella was a smart woman. She knew her words would infuriate Miranda.
“I think your meeting is over. It’s late,” Miranda said in an icy cold voice.
“Is everything okay, Miranda?” I asked before Bella could say something else. I didn’t trust the gleam in her eyes.
“No, everything isn’t okay,” she said, giving me a stare that could kill. Then she turned back to Bella. “You can leave now.”
There was no doubt Bella could either leave on her own or my wife was going to physically remove her. I had seen Miranda angry before, but I’d never seen anything like this. It excited me.
Bella turned back to me and smiled that confident grin that had always gotten her what she wanted. “It seems you have a problem to deal with. We’ll finish later.”
She moved the slightest bit toward me as if she was going to hug me, or kiss me, or something equally as foolish. But I didn’t have to stop her. She stopped herself. Then she walked from the room, utter confidence resonating off her.
I looked back at Miranda, and her temper seemed to be escalating by the second. I was slightly irritated at her tantrum, but I was incredibly turned on at the same time. It most likely wouldn’t be wise to say that — or to do something about it.
She didn’t say anything else, and we stood there for a couple of seconds before she marched from the room. I followed her. Suddenly I was itching for a fight.
“What in the hell was that about?” I asked. She moved into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine, opening it and filling a glass nearly to the spilling point. I was grateful she hadn’t yet found the empty bottle Bella had brought with her. I’d have to get the two glasses out of there.
