by Anna Paige
He smiled at me then, and it did touch his eyes, lighting them in a way I’d never seen from him before. “With all these new eyes on the gallery—and on you—a second Conspicuous exhibition could elevate this gallery to something even I never dreamed of.” His eyes dropped to the table for a moment, and he picked at his cuticles. “I know I probably gave you whiplash with my erratic behavior—sending mixed signals about what I wanted done, and how I wanted you to handle things. But it wasn’t intentional. I was struggling with it, still am. When I saw the photos online of you with him on Black Friday…” He blew out a breath. “I know Ethan has an interest in you, and part of me—a part I’m not particularly proud of—wanted to capitalize on that. His attraction to you gives us an edge, an underhanded one, but an edge nonetheless.”
“And you felt like crap for thinking that, so you went back and forth on whether to encourage it.” I supplied, filling in the blanks.
“Yes, but not for the reason you think. It’s unethical for me to expect you to use yourself as bait, but that’s not the biggest reason I grappled with this.”
“What, the idea of basically pimping me out to gain a client wasn’t enough?” I was half annoyed and half amused. Mostly because I didn’t give a shit either way what Niko approved of, so it was a moot point. Ethan and I were bound together from the moment he walked through the door.
Niko still hadn’t looked up, which wasn’t like him. Usually, even when he was apologizing, he had an air of superiority, like he was consoling an insolent child. Something that he had in common with a lot of wealthy men—he didn’t show weakness very often. And it made me infinitely more nervous that he was now. “Ethically, yes, it should have been enough and would have been, if it weren’t overshadowed by my jealousy.”
Jealousy.
His word landed there between us with an almost audible thud.
Son of a bitch.
I leaned back in my chair, wanting as much space as possible between us without actually getting up and walking out…yet. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t.” My tone was flat and even. “It’s not going to end well if you do.”
He looked at me then—really looked—and whatever he saw on my face, it wasn’t what he’d hoped to find. I stared back at him, stoic and on the defensive.
I wasn’t particularly afraid of him. I felt like I could probably best him if he got handsy. Not that I thought he actually would. I didn’t think this was a smarmy come-on or some ruse to corner me alone in the gallery. It seemed like it was his confession, him taking a chance and laying it out there just in case I might feel the same way. I’d never given him any indication that I was interested in him.
Not one.
I’d purposely kept my distance when I realized his eyes lingered on me too long.
I waited him out, letting him search my face as long as he needed to get the message that I knew was clear as day from my expression.
I’m not interested. Period.
It might as well have been written across my forehead. And after a moment, he seemed to get what I was putting out.
He nodded once and stood, a solemn expression on his face. “I shouldn’t have waited until there was someone to be jealous of. I should have told you ages ago, maybe then…” His eyes darted to me, and I shook my head, feeling almost sorry for him.
“Not even then,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound mean. I needed to let him know in no uncertain terms that it would never have happened, Ethan or no Ethan.
He didn’t look at me as he dumped his coffee down the sink and threw the paper cup in the trash. “Funny thing about money—people think it makes life easier, and in some ways, it does. But it also makes it lonelier.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing.
“You should head on home; there’s nothing left to do here anyway. Merry Christmas, Emily,” he muttered as he walked out the door.
I sat there for a while, staring into my coffee. There was so much to process, so much to think about before the new year began.
One thing was for certain, I couldn’t picture myself walking back into this gallery after the new year. Not because I was afraid or intimidated by Niko, but because from this moment forward, I would wonder if every opportunity was motivated by his feelings for me.
If I didn’t get to handle an event, would it be because he was angry I turned him down?
If I did get to handle an event, would it be because he had feelings for me, or worse, because he was hoping I’d feel indebted to him and give in to his advances?
There would be no way to know, and I couldn’t work like that.
Shit. Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut?
I secured the back entrance, gathered my belongings and Ethan’s present, and made my way to the front exit, choosing to get my last glimpse of the gallery from the street rather than the bland back alley.
I hailed a cab and waited while the driver worked to fit Ethan’s gift into the trunk, taking one last look at the place I’d come to love.
I knew I’d never go back inside as an employee, maybe not even as a guest.
The truth was, I’d been ready to move on, but hesitated because I feared the unknown. By revealing his feelings to me, Niko had given me the nudge I needed.
Everything about my life was changing, evolving.
And I was relieved to realize I was hopeful rather than afraid.
I was going to be okay.
I could feel it.
That very afternoon, I emailed Niko my two-week’s notice.
He didn’t respond.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Emily
The sun rose on Christmas Eve and found Ethan and I tangled in his sheets, greeting the day in the best way possible. It was a slow, reverent kind of lovemaking, the kind where you just have to pause every so often to look at one another in complete awe.
The connection, the awareness of each other, was so strong that it was unreal. We moved together without falling out of sync, without thinking, letting our bodies speak for us. It was so intense it was like being lit on fire from the inside, and he was the oxygen that fueled the flames.
And the thing was, it was always like that with him.
Afterward, while we lay there in each other’s arms, I asked, “Do you want your present today?” I’d only had it for two days, and it had been killing me not to give it to him. I was that person, the one who couldn’t stand the anticipation. Not of getting presents but of giving them—especially the meaningful ones.
“You’ve asked me that every morning.” He chuckled and kissed the top of my head.
“I know. Can I?” Even I could hear the childlike sound of my voice.
“Fine. But not until tonight. I want to give you your gift first.” He glanced down at my face and shook his head. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever met who would pout about getting a present.”
“I want to go first.”
“Nope. Mine has to be today.” He glanced at his phone. “Actually, we need to get ready soon. Don’t want to be late.”
“Late? For what?”
“Your present, silly.”
“It’s on a schedule?”
“Sort of,” he hedged. “But don’t ask why, and no begging for hints, either.”
I harrumphed. “I don’t beg.”
“I bet I can make you beg.” He rolled us over and pushed himself slightly inside me, teasing me with the tip.
“I thought we had to get ready?”
“We can be a little late.” He pushed in deeper then pulled out, rubbing my clit. “Or a lot late, depending on how long you refuse to beg for it.” Again, he dipped inside and retreated before taking himself in hand and running his dick up and down my seam.
After less than five minutes of his teasing, I knew we weren’t going to be late at all. Not even a little.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Ethan
I fired off a text to Arthur, though I knew he was going to bitch a
bout it later, because I couldn’t risk being overheard on the phone.
Me: Everything set?
He responded with a terse “Yes.”
Me: You mad I’m forcing you to text?
Arthur: Yes.
I laughed under my breath and didn’t press my luck.
Me: On our way in ten.
He didn’t respond, but I knew he had it covered. We’d talked at length about what I wanted. I slid my phone into my pocket and reached for Dammit’s leash. I’d almost forgotten he needed a walk before we left. “Come on, buddy. Wanna go melt some snow?”
Dammit came sliding into the room a second later, all wags and snuffles. I couldn’t wait to give him his present either, a huge cat-shaped chew toy and some gourmet treats from the frou-frou doggy bakery. That ought to keep his teeth out of my ass, at least for a while.
Emily came out of the bathroom, hairbrush in hand. “Can we bring him with us? After we do whatever you’ve got planned, I want to go back to my place. I left your gift there so I wouldn’t be tempted to give it to you early.”
I raised a brow. “Because you didn’t try every day, anyway?”
“Shush, you.” She stuck out her tongue. “So, can he come, or do we need to come back here to get him afterward?”
“He can come. I don’t think pups are prohibited where we’re going.”
“And where is that again?” She tried to sound casual but there was a sneaky gleam in her eye.
“Nice try. Not telling.”
“Dammit,” she muttered in defeat, and the dog went scurrying over to her. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean you.” She scratched behind his ears for a while, and eventually he calmed down, having forgotten I was going to take him outside.
I hung the leash up as quietly as I could and waited in the kitchen while she finished getting ready. A few minutes later, we were taking Dammit for a quick walk, and then we set off toward the gallery and her Christmas surprise.
Aubrey and the guys had popped into town last night and wanted to get together for an early dinner before they all drove back to Pennsylvania that evening, so this early start was a must, no matter how much I’d wanted to linger in bed.
If I knew Aubrey, the whole visit was her idea because she was the only one I’d told about my present for Em. She’d been so over the moon excited you would have thought it was for her.
No way was she missing the aftermath of this one. She wanted the details immediately and had dragged the whole band here to be sure she got them.
I kind of loved her for that, my crazy sister-in-law.
Truthfully, the anticipation was killing me too, and I couldn’t wait to give Em her gift.
Epic didn’t even begin to cover it.
When I parked in the narrow alley behind the building, she looked confused and somewhat anxious. “Why are we here?”
“I asked Arthur to hang onto your gift for me. He’s meeting us inside.” I didn’t give her time to ask further questions, getting out of the car and reaching in to free Dammit from his carrier. I carried him in since the snow was a bit too deep here for him, leaving the leash in the car with his carrier.
“Come on, pokey.” I goaded Emily when she looked hesitant to follow. “Arthur probably has some hot date to get to after this. We don’t want to cost him his chance at some Christmas nookie, do we?”
She shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. “What did I tell you about that?” Her steps were slow and deliberate, like someone unaccustomed to the snow, which I knew damn well she was. Why was she stalling?
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She answered too quickly. “Just surprised to be here, of all places. But it’s good because I wanted to check on Arthur anyway and this way, I get to see for myself that he’s feeling better.”
I was going to ask what she meant, but I lost all focus when she finally made her way over to the door and opened it, standing there waiting for me to lead the way in.
Here we go…
Chapter Fifty-Five
Emily
I hadn’t told Ethan about Niko’s admission or my decision to leave the gallery, so there was no way for him to know why being here was so odd for me. Hopefully, he would assume it was because I was supposed to be off. I’d decided to fill him in on what happened after the holidays. I didn’t want anything to tarnish it for us.
Once we were inside, he took my hand and led me down the long hall toward the main room. Before we got to the end, he stopped us and came to stand in front of me, smiling as he held my gaze. “Since you refused to let me spoil you, even though that’s exactly what I want to do, I had to get creative. Luckily, I’m pretty good at that, so I found something I think is even better than spoiling you.”
I couldn’t help grinning at the expression on his face. It was the same expression I knew I’d have when I presented him with his gift later tonight. That smile was almost better than any gift he could have purchased. “You spoil me every day, with your time and your attention. With your heart.”
He nodded, dropping a kiss on the tip of my nose. “And I intend to continue doing that, but this is different. Emily, this is something more important than any trinket I could ever buy at any price. And I’m so damn lucky that I’m able to give this to you. I love you, Miss Emily.”
He gathered my hand in his and kissed the back of it. “You ready?”
For some reason, I felt like crying.
I could feel a hum of electricity coming off of Ethan, one that told me something huge awaited me in that gallery. He was that excited.
And suddenly, so was I.
“Ready.” I tipped my head and waited for him to guide me to whatever awaited.
I thought I was ready.
But nothing could have prepared me for what Ethan had done.
Arthur lingered somewhere in my peripheral vision, but I couldn’t focus on anything except the scene in front of me.
It was set up like an exhibition. Small pedestals were scattered around the room, each draped in black and lit from above so that the various sculptures were bathed in cool, clean light.
Sculptures in a style that I recognized immediately.
There had to be two dozen individual pieces showcased around the gallery.
I walked over to the closest one on wobbly legs and picked it up, though there was no need to check. I turned over the piece—an intricately carved pair of love birds—and gasped at the artist’s signature carved there in the clay.
Maxwell Westin.
My father.
I sobbed as I walked around the room, trailing my fingers over each and every piece. There were ships and animals and flowers, all different sizes and skill levels, each getting more stunning as I went. They were set up in a spiral pattern that kept you going deeper into the room as you went, with the final piece sitting in the center of the room.
When I reached it, I felt Ethan at my back, his hands falling on my hips as he whispered, “This is the one he was working on right before he…”
If it hadn’t been for Ethan’s grip on me, I might have fallen to the floor. I swayed on rubbery legs, and my sobs racked my body as I reached for it.
It was a soldier, shirtless, sitting cross-legged, holding his baby daughter against his chest while she reached for his dog tags.
The smile on his face…I knew it.
Because it was my smile.
That smile, it sent me to the floor.
And Ethan caught me, because he’d known it would.
We sat there in a heap on the floor of the gallery, and he held me to his chest as I cried.
“I remembered what you said about the sculptures and the storage unit, so I did some digging. I got your dad’s name off the rose sculpture on your dresser, and I didn’t stop looking until I found them. I was prepared to scour the globe until I found them all, but the funny thing is, one person had them this whole time.”
“Who?” I managed to croak between sniffles as I held the sculpture to my chest
.
“One of your dad’s army buddies. He heard about your mom letting the storage unit go, and he said it just didn’t seem right to him. Max told him while they were deployed that he’d had to store his sculptures, so he knew full well what would be lost if someone else bought the unit.”
“And he kept them all these years?” I was starting to settle down now, Ethan’s low voice soothing me like a warm blanket.
“He said he tried to offer them to your mom, told her about buying the unit several months after she let it go, but she refused. Got angry. Said you didn’t need silly carvings. Pissed him off something fierce, so he packed them away in an old foot locker. When your mom moved you away, he hoped you’d come looking, but over the years he just sort of forgot about them there in the back of the closet. Until I tracked him down.”
He hugged me to his chest and rested his head on top of mine. “He said he’d love to meet you sometime. He has old pics of your dad, stories from their days serving together. He’s actually the one who rescued this sculpture from your dad’s stuff, because he was afraid it would get damaged being shipped back.”
“So, he had this one even before?”
“Yep. I guess he knew your mom wouldn’t value it like she should, and he knew how much it meant to your dad. He watched him work on it.”
I held the carving up to the light and marveled at how stunning it was. “I want to meet him.”
“I can give you his address and phone number; he’s expecting your call.”
“And I want you to go with me, okay?”
“Nowhere else I’d want to be, sweet Emily.” He lightly trailed his fingertips over the sculpture. “I’m so happy he got to finish it. Ryan…his last painting…it was only halfway done.”
“You finished it for him, didn’t you? It’s the one in the far corner of the studio, the one that’s so different—half hope, half despair?”
