Little Lies

by Elena M. Reyes

  Why is he affecting me so much? No man has before.

  I’m finding myself curious about those hands skimming places no one but me has touched and pleased before.

  “I did.” The hint of amusement in his tone makes me blush, but I don’t look back. Instead, I acknowledge him with a tilt of my head and a wave of the hand. I’ve hit my quota for embarrassing myself today, handsome stranger or not. “Can you take a step back for me, please? You’ll get hit with the door otherwise.”

  “Of course.” My reply is breathy as I follow his request, moving slightly back and against a strong chest. There’s a small rumble, this low groan that comes from his throat, and I fight back another shiver. This sudden need to whimper for a man I don’t know is unnerving and I swallow hard, forcing myself to create space between us. “I’m sorry, did I step on you?”

  Not that I’d be able to tell. I can’t think past that sound. How good that small moment—his nearness—felt.

  Maybe Elise is right and I should start dating. Look at my behavior toward this stranger; it screams needy. How embarrassing.

  “Not at all, beautiful.”

  “What?” Surprise colors my tone and my head turns, meeting his eyes. Christ, you created this man to tempt and destroy. He’s the literal definition of lust. A weakness I’m all too eager to indulge in.

  Striking amber eyes meet my green ones, and my knees grow weak. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” A lie. They tremble and my hand shoots out, gripping onto the lapels of his black suit jacket to steady myself. “I must’ve stepped on a crack.”

  “Then let me help you inside.” His own hand comes around my waist and steadies me, holding me tucked against him for a second before walking me inside. I feel flushed, the hand now on my back causing goose bumps to rise across my flesh. I’m attuned to his movements, to the ease in which he touches me and guides me through the packed dining room where Elise sits near the back and center at a round table.

  For some reason, being here in this moment feels right, a sensation I’ve been weak to fight against since opening Elise’s gift, and more so after slipping on the delicate dress. Moreover, while I’m tempted to wave at her—to get her attention because nervousness seems to be the predominant emotion waging war against me—I don’t. Instead, I follow his lead without questioning the end destination.

  Maybe he wants to have brunch with me. Maybe he just wants to make sure I don’t stumble again and—

  “There you are, Mr. Astor!” Elise stands from the table, giving him a wide smile that makes me frown. How do they know each other? But more importantly, I don’t like the tightness around her eyes when she sees he’s with me. She walks toward us, hips swaying from side to side while flicking her blonde hair over her right shoulder. Her smile is for him, though. Her body language screams look at me. “You’ve kept me waiting long enough, don’t you think?”

  “My apologies.” At his words, I move to step aside, but his hand on my back grips my dress. “I lost track of time rescuing a damsel in distress.”

  “Did you, now?” Her tone is sugary sweet, but there’s that tightness again. The tick of her right eye. “What did my girl do?”

  “I’m standing right here.” If there’s one thing I hate, it’s people talking about me as though I’m not in the room. It’s rude and disrespectful, more so when I didn’t ask to spend my birthday talking business or having someone set up plans without my permission. “Now, introductions please.”

  Both turn to look at me; one with amusement, and the other with a sour expression. I meet her hard stare head on and raise a challenging brow. I may be a softie at times, choosing my battles, but stubbornness is a trait I inherited from someone—they had to have been a master class teacher on the subject.

  Elise giggles after a few seconds and reaches for my hand, pulling me to her side where she throws her arm casually over my shoulder. “This little girlish gem you helped out is the painter I’ve been talking to you about, Theodore. Meet Gabriella Moore.”

  The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but I bite the inside of my cheek instead while looking away. Christ, that introduction made me sound like someone’s little sister and not the professional artist I am. I take back my interest in hiring her.

  “I know who she is, Miss Scott. You did send her bio and picture with a few samples of her work to my assistant last week.” His tone isn’t as friendly as it’d been a few minutes ago when we’d been outside, and my brows furrow. I flick my eyes to Theodore and while I find an annoyed expression, the second our stares connect, his eyes soften at the corners and lips tug upward into a small smile. “It’s been an absolute pleasure to bump into you today, Gabriella.”

  “Likewise.” And I find myself grinning back while holding up a hand with my fingers extended. “Definitely a top five in my first impression file, Mr. Astor.”

  “Theodore, please.” But then his brow arches, and I find the action sexy. I truly need Jesus today. “Is that so? Just top five.”

  I nod nonchalantly. “You’re sitting at a solid three.”

  “Maybe by the end of today I can slide into the top position?”

  “Once we sign that contract, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy I set this up.”

  At Elise’s words, I frown and turn to look at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, why?” she asks, but her attention is on Theodore. Her body language is flirtatious, twirling a piece of blonde hair around her finger while cocking a hip out. I’m reminded of the halls of my high school and every time a girl crushing hard stood near her obsession. And she’s older than me. “But let’s all sit down and order. We have much to discuss.”

  “Lead the way.” Theodore waits for her to turn around and then winks at me before tilting his head in her direction, silently asking that I walk ahead of him. The simple act makes my cheeks feel warm and I quickly follow Elise, trying to calm down my blushing before taking a seat to her left. Not that it lasts long because Mr. Astor takes his place beside me while leaving two empty chairs between himself and Elise, something that makes my friend frown. “My assistant, Tero, will also be joining us this morning. He’ll be here shortly.”

  His explanation doesn’t appease her, but she keeps that smile bright. “Of course. Should we wait, or—”

  “I’m here.” All eyes turn toward a younger man, more in my age range than theirs, that takes one of the empty seats while placing a portfolio bag atop the other beside him. He’s pale with nearly-white blond hair, but it’s the eyes that are striking in a shade reminiscent of pastel blue. So clear. So expressive. “My apologies for the delay. I was stuck behind a small fender bender that forced the two-lane road to become a total standstill.”

  “No worries. We were all running a bit behind schedule,” I answer while picking up my menu, perusing the choices even though my eyes keep coming back to their fry up, which I’ve had more than once. It’s just what I need after the rough night and...

  That’s when I notice that for once, I’m not nauseous after taking the prescribed sleeping aid. I have no stomachache or a migraine. No dry mouth with a sensitivity to light.

  Did I confuse the Melatonin for the harsher stuff? Normally food would be the last thing on my mind after waking from a deep sleep like that.

  “...isn’t that right, Gabriella?”

  “Run that by me again, please.”

  Elise’s nose flares a bit. “That we are interested in taking the opening night for the summer series the Astor Gallery hosts every year. It’s going to be your first public appearance, and what better way than to come out—”

  The blood in my veins pulses with ire. “No.”

  “Were you not aware of her request?”

  I ignore Theodore’s question and instead narrow my eyes at Elise, who has the audacity to seem taken aback. “Bathroom, now.”

  “Gabriella, let’s—”

  “Elise, I will not repeat myself. You have two minutes.” Turning my attention to Theodore, I g
ive him a forced smile. “I apologize, but it seems my friend has given you the impression that I will be attending the show, and that is not feasible. I am anonymous for a reason and will stay that way. If that isn’t something you’re interested in, please let me know and I’ll apologize ahead of time for wasting your time.”

  “No apologies needed. I thought ahead and just have a standard contract with me today. But once we agree on the terms, I’ll have it ready for your signature in less than twenty-four hours.”

  “Smart man.” At my words, his lips quirk up at the right corner into a devilish smirk that both comforts and simmers the anger within. Without conscious thought, I find myself leaning over and placing a hand on his forearm, and his muscles tense beneath. They flex and my chest rises and falls rapidly, his scent pulling me in closer by an invisible thread that dominates my senses and bends my will. “Your rank just moved to number two.”

  “Would you believe I was a Boy Scout?”

  “Not really.” Theodore just doesn’t seem the type to go camping and work toward badges while following directions. The aura surrounding this man is confusing: good and bad. Holy and evil. “Unless you were the one giving orders.”

  “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

  Gabriella 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.”

  She nods and then takes a sip of coffee. “You only turn twenty-one once.”

  “Happy Birthday, Miss Moore,” Tero says from beside me, holding his own cup up in salute. “I hope it brings you joy, love, and peace.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Add to that a showing at such a prestigious gallery, and Gabby has the kind of life most would kill for.”

  “Indeed.” It takes everything in me not to glare at her friend. Something isn’t right with her, the backhanded comments showing her jealousy—the desperation to be the center of attention. “But Gabriella isn’t getting a handout from me, Elise. On the contrary; I’ve seen her work and have heard the admiration some of the most respected in the community have for her, especially her lack of need for constant validation from her peers or art enthusiasts. That shows maturity and confidence in her pieces. Miss Moore knows her worth.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say...” Elise pauses, but I shake my head before she continues digging herself a bigger hole.

  “It’s not. I’m merely stating a fact.” Holding a hand out toward Tero, I wait for him to place a file in my palm, and a few seconds later when he does, I put it next to Gabriella’s coffee mug. “My plans for the exposition are big, Miss Moore, and I will be demanding, but I believe that this business relationship can be more than beneficial for the two of us. You can go ahead and go through the file, or as much as you can while we wait for your meal.”

  “I can read the files,
but I’d much prefer to hear your thoughts and what you’d need from me.” With two dainty fingers, she traces the top of the manila folder and levels me with a serious stare. No playfulness, and I find her business face quite adorable. “What part of my soul are you looking to uncover?”

  “Spoken like a true—”

  “Mr. Astor doesn’t have time to detail a plan out, Gabriella. Read the files and sign.” Elise huffs out while I grit my teeth at her blatant disrespect and bite back the retort that sits on the tip of my tongue while she’s giving me what she thinks is an apologetic expression and Gabriella watches us with uncertainty. Moreover, had the little beauty not been sitting right beside me, I would’ve put Elise in her place long before now. I have no patience for the kind of woman I know she is. “Don’t play into the poster-child syndrome of a temperamental artist when he’s doing you the favor.”

  “I’m going to ask that you either remain silent or leave, Miss Scott, as you have no stake in this matter. You are neither employed by my employer nor Gabriella, and are hindering this meeting.” Tero’s voice comes across as a low hiss, his posture a little imposing, and I shake my head. This is neither the time nor place to lose our cool, even if Elise is becoming rather obnoxious in her pursuit of importance. “Please let them speak, as at the end of the day, those are the two names that matter in the contract.”

  “How dare you—”

  “Enough.” It leaves me on a low growl and all three at the table pause, not a sound or movement from any of them. My glare settles on my assistant and Elise, but I can’t help but soften my expression when my eyes meet hers. She looks a bit scared and a lot embarrassed and to me, that is unacceptable. “Please accept my apologies, Miss Moore. It seems hunger has made those at the table a bit pushy.”