He flashed her a grin. “Cause we’re family.”
“I hate to tell you this,” she climbed out of the backseat, “but that means squat.”
He laughed. “True. But you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so you’re stuck with me. Got it?”
Hot tears prickled her eyes. “Oh, Zach.”
He offered her his elbow, his smile warm. “C’mon, let’s blow these fuck—I mean, let’s blow these hoity-toity snobs out of the water. Show them what class and talent Platinum Joe’s kids have.”
“You are the best brother a girl could have, Zachary Francis.” She stole a quick kiss on his cheek before he could stop her. “I thought I didn’t need my family. I thought I was good walking away from it. But I am so grateful you came into my life. Thank you.”
His cheek flooded red and he ducked his head, his smile stretching wider. “Geez, sis. Way to get all soppy.”
She laughed. Could it sound any more nervous? “Let’s go. I guess.”
They walked into the gallery together, her hand wrapped around his elbow.
The epitome of poise and control and calm. That’s what she was. Poise and control and—
She glimpsed the artworks hanging on the walls through the crowds of people mingling in front of each one and her knees trembled.
“Oh, wow.”
“Whoa,” Zach muttered at her side.
Almost every work she’d painted for Mason Xavier hung on the walls. Amongst them were various paintings, drawings, and etchings she’d completed during her art school days—artwork she’d sold at various student exhibitions to pay for supplies, food, and rent.
Still lifes, expressionistic landscapes, life-drawing sketches, abstracts, self-portraits… Artwork that lay her soul bare, her journey… It was all there.
A hot lump filled her throat, and she gripped Zach’s elbow tighter.
“You are one talented artist, girl,” a familiar voice said on her right.
She blinked, swinging her head to find Carrie smiling at her. “You didn’t say anything about being here tonight.”
Carrie smirked. “And spoil the surprise? Who do you think helped James Dyson curate this? Finding some of your old art school work wasn’t easy, y’know.”
Sienna blinked again.
Carrie preened. “You can thank me later.”
“I can?”
“Hell, yeah. Your timing is impeccable, by the way. The exhibition is about to officially open. It’s probably better the artist is here for when that happens.”
The lump in her throat grew thicker. “I think I want to strangle you.”
Carrie chuckled. “No, you don’t. What you want to do is look at that man over there.”
Head roaring, chest tight, Sienna followed the direction of Carrie’s finger.
Oh God.
James stood a few meters away, watching her. He looked incredible, his suit the darkest of grays, his shirt black and opened at the neck. He was wearing his emerald-green Converse Chucks, and on his jaw was stubble she ached to trace her fingertips over.
People stood around him, talking to him.
He wasn’t listening. Instead, he met her gaze, a small—almost uncertain—smile tugging at the edges of his lips.
Slipping her hand free of Zach’s elbow, every molecule in her body thrumming, she began to walk toward him.
She stopped when he shook his head.
Smile growing wider, he turned and crossed to a microphone stand situated in front of the largest painting in the exhibition space—a canvas of a lone woman standing with her back to the viewer, her head turned to the side, her eyelids half closed, her lips telling a secretive story in a shy smile.
The painting had been Mason Xavier’s strangest request—a self-portrait of Sienna. It had torn her apart to send it on to her benefactor.
And now here it was. With hundreds of people looking at it. Seeing it.
Seeing her.
And she could do nothing but look at James.
James, who now tapped the mic.
The gallery fell silent.
Sienna’s heart hammered in her ears like cannon fire.
“Thank you for coming, everyone,” he said, his deep, smooth voice projected around the exhibition space.
Sienna pressed her palms to her stomach. Her body’s reaction scared her. Exhilarated her.
Oh God.
She stared at him, equally scared to blink. What if he wasn’t there when she opened her eyes again? What if this was all a—
“When I first met Sienna Roberts”—he cast those in the gallery a relaxed smile—“I knew straight away she would become the most important person in my life.”
People looked at her. Everywhere, curious gazes turned to her.
She swallowed, looking at no one but James.
Only him.
“And then,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling, the slight dent in his cheek flashing as he grinned, “she found out who I was and wanted nothing more to do with me.”
People gasped. An uncomfortable chuckle hiccupped around the attendees.
James laughed, holding up his hand. “Actually, that’s a lie. I wanted nothing more to do with her. She was beyond my reach, you see. Those of you that know me know I don’t like things beyond my reach. The second time I met Sienna, it really was her not wanting anything to do with me. In that brief second moment, she met the James Dyson I thought I was meant to be, the James Dyson I had always planned to be. That man is, to quote someone very wise currently in our present company, a fuckwit.”
The crowd laughed with nervous uncertainty. Behind Sienna, Zach chuckled a low, “Yes.”
Even then, she couldn’t tear her stare from James. She tingled. All over. Like she was on fire.
“The third time I met Sienna,” he went on, holding her gaze, “was in her studio. I went there intent on destroying her. Instead, she destroyed me. In the time since I entered her home determined to bring the full force of the Dyson might down on her like the arrogant bastard I was, she has managed to do the impossible. She showed me who I thought I had to be is not the reality I want to live. The James Dyson I showed the world, as it turns out, isn’t the real James Dyson, after all. What we perceived to be our truth isn’t always the truth. Sometimes, the truth is much more simple and much more profound. I was a ruthless bastard once upon a time. Now, not so much.”
The gallery was silent. No one coughed, or murmured, or even moved.
“Sienna Roberts changed everything in my life.” He watched her. “And my life is now so much better because she is in it. I am a better person because of her. And I hope she will be around for a very long time to come.”
He smiled, at her and then at everyone else.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my private collection of the works of Sienna Roberts. Not just one of Australia’s most talented artists, but the most important person in my life. Enjoy.”
The room burst into applause.
Sienna stood motionless, aware people looked at her, spoke to her.
And yet she couldn’t move.
Couldn’t speak.
Not when James walked toward her. Not when he drew closer to her.
Closer.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and just for her. “I know you hate me. I know you never want to see me again, but I can’t go another day without telling you I love you. I’m in love with you. I miss you. I’m unable to work, to focus… Christ, to even function since I drove away from—”
Uncaring of the mass of people, of the cameras and smartphones, of the journalists who were no doubt there, she closed the minute distance between them, tangled her hands in his hair, and silenced him with a kiss.
A groan rumbled in his chest, and he snaked his arms around her waist and hauled her to his body, his tongue meeting hers, his hands finding her arse.
She whimpered, pleasure and happiness detonating inside her.
“All right, all right,” Zach grumbled from behind her. “That’s enough public displays of affection.”
Laughter bubbled up in her throat, and she pulled away from the kiss, smiling up at James. “I love you, James. Even if you are a fuckwit.”
He laughed. “Not anymore. Not as long as I’m with you.”
She drew a deep breath. “Fair enough. On one condition.”
His nostrils flared. “Name it.”
“I get to paint you naked.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Done. I’m ready to start right now, if you are?”
She kissed him. It was that or strip him naked right there and then.
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About the Author
Lexxie Couper started writing when she was six and hasn’t stopped since. She’s not a deviant, but she does have a deviant’s imagination and a desire to entertain readers with her words. Add the two together and you get romances that can make you laugh, cry, shake with fear or tremble with desire. Sometimes all at once.
When she’s not submerged in the worlds she creates, Lexxie’s life revolves around her family, a husband who thinks she’s insane, a indoor cat who likes to stalk shadows, and her daughters, who both utterly captured her heart and changed her life forever.
Contact Lexxie at [email protected], follow her on Twitter http://twitter.com/lexxie_couper or visit her at www.lexxiecouper.com where she occasionally makes a fool of herself on her blog.
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