I Think I Love You!

by Kathryn Shay

  “If you talk first, I will.”

  “No talk. I can’t do this with you. I can’t.”

  “Why? Don’t deny what’s between us, Raven, because it’s been building up. We proved that just hours ago.”

  Her forehead hit the wood. “I know it has.”

  “Stay. Talk about this.” Still, he used that seductive voice.

  For a moment, she considered it. Then the demons came. You can’t depend on anybody. Men need to be controlled. You need to be controlled around men.

  So forceful, so dominating had the warning become in her consciousness, she broke his hold on her and he stumbled back, giving her enough time to get the door open and flee down the steps.

  At her retreat, he called out, “Raven.”

  But the words disappeared unheeded into the night air.

  * * *

  Disconsolate, Blake closed the door. He didn’t lock it in case she came back. But she wouldn’t. Not tonight. Wearing only his trousers, he gathered the rest of his clothes and made his way back to the office. Suddenly overcome with weariness, he went to the closet, got out some sweats he kept there and hit the bathroom. He flopped onto the couch and fell asleep with thoughts of him and Raven together.

  * * *

  No one saw the woman open the unlocked door of the new wing at Parker’s and creep inside. His car was still in the parking lot, but the other one, the one she’d seen earlier, hers, was gone. She walked stealthily to the first section. The room was illuminated by the moon peeking in from the wall of windows, and she crossed to the big one, the one that everybody said was so wonderful. She got so close she could smell the paint. Out of her bag, she took the butcher knife that had been on her counter minutes before.

  Raising her hand, she slashed, and slashed, and slashed.

  Chapter 8

  Blake awoke to noise. It took him a minute to realize he’d heard a scream. Then another. Bolting off the couch, he ran in the direction of the third outcry. It led him to the first room, and in the stark light of day, he saw someone sitting on the bench in front of Silenced. He’d recognize those beautifully curved shoulders and long sensuous back anywhere.

  He crossed to her. “Raven.”

  She turned to him and gestured to the right.

  Then he saw it. “Dear God in heaven, what did you do?”

  “Me? I did nothing. I came to see you this morning, walked in here and found this. I thought you did it.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Blake, my art. Somebody desecrated my art.”

  Overwrought too, he nonetheless gathered his composure, circled around the bench, sat and took her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest. His hand went to her hair, and he smoothed down the long, silky strands. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Why?” she asked with devastation in her voice. “Why would someone do this?”

  His gut clenched. “I...I left the door open in case you came back.”

  She drew away. There were tears in her eyes. He’d bet Raven Marcello cried every blue moon. “I did come back. We had to talk, especially before tonight.”

  “Thank God you’re here.” He brushed some stray locks off her face.

  She scowled at the painting. “The show? What will happen?”

  His mind was careening back and forth with the two realities: she’d come back to him, and someone had slashed her painting. “I don’t know, sweetheart. We have security cameras so we can find out who did this.”

  She breathed in and sat up straight. He knew she wouldn’t wallow long. “Before we do all that, we have to decide what to do about this. We can cancel the opening.” She grabbed his hand. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Me, either.”

  “But going on without the focus of the main section, even if we did post a note that the painting was damaged, would ruin the whole ambiance of the setting.”

  “I agree.” He searched for answers. “We could put the last room first. Switch all the paintings in each. Then add the note. At least this wouldn’t be the first thing people saw.”

  “But the work is progressive. Its order has a reason.”

  “It does.”

  She closed her eyes. Then they opened abruptly. And she began to laugh. But it wasn’t wild. It wasn’t ugly. It was...wry.

  “What, Raven?”

  “My mind was so clouded by you, I forgot about something. Remember when we first started to work together? I showed you different versions I’d done of a few of the paintings?”

  His eyes widened. “Raven, did you do two versions of Silenced?”

  “No.”

  His heart plummeted.

  “I did three.”

  * * *

  She let him drive her van because her hands were shaking from witnessing the blasphemous thing that happened to the painting. Despite the fact that she’d done other versions, that someone would totally destroy her art made her sad. As if he knew, Blake took her hand across the console. “I’m so sorry about this vandalism.”

  Raising her chin, she stared out the window. She would not let this ruin the opening. Or turn her into a puddle of tears again. “We probably should have checked the cameras first.”

  “We would have lost precious time. I’ve never done it myself, always with a guard. And then, not often.”

  “Who, Blake? Who would have done this?”

  “I don’t know. But whoever got in, it’s my fault because I left the door open.”

  “How could anyone know you did?”

  “That’s a good point.”

  “Someone came back knowing they could get in. Who has a key?”

  “Maintenance. My father, of course, and some board members.”

  She didn’t say anything. Board members meant Anderson Roth. But why would he...?

  Blake pulled off the road to a parking lot and stopped the car. “Could it have been Audrey?”

  “Hell.” Raven thought back to the evening. Audrey had sought her out. She hadn’t planned to tell Blake about the woman’s comments, but now she had to. “She said some things to me during the show.”

  “Like what?”

  “She asked why I couldn’t stop touching you.”

  A squeeze of her hand.

  “She criticized the whole body of work. Said it could be viewed as stupid splotches of paint on canvas.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was toward the end. I was preoccupied with my big revelation.” She lifted a shoulder. “Besides, women have always been jealous of me. It rolls off my back.”

  Despite the grim circumstances, he smiled. “Now that I’m not surprised at.”

  She smiled back.

  He said, “We have to talk about what happened between us.”

  “We do. But can we table that and get through this part? There’s a lot to think about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the paintings aren’t exactly the same as the version I decided on.”

  “How different are they?”

  “I’m not quite sure. But what if one of the critics describes Silenced differently? Or decides to come back. What if...”

  His eyes widened. “Raven, I just realized the reviews will be up on some of the magazine websites now. Grab your phone.” He dictated a URL.

  With shaky hands, she called up Bennett’s site. A photo of Silenced was at the top. “Read it aloud to me. I want to hear it the first time you do.”

  She cleared her throat. “‘A new artist bursts on the scene with a bold approach to modern art.’ Blake, that’s the headline.”

  “I knew it! I knew your work would be a success. Read the whole thing.”

  “‘Last night, I attended a reception for the opening of the controversial new addition at the iconic Parker’s gallery. The wing itself is forward-thinking and unique with its S curves. But what’s inside is a dynamic display of talent. Known only as Raven, this relatively new artist has created four masterpieces’ —oh wow, masterpiec
es— ‘around which are other paintings to carry each theme through to the end.’”

  She finished Bennett’s comments. Blake dictated a few more addresses. “Brilliant...heartbreaking...shocking...the most talent I’ve seen come on the art scene in a long time” were among the accolades.

  When she finished, he grabbed her by the neck, pulled her to him and kissed her. It was so different from last night—gentler...celebratory, she guessed. She kissed him back. And for a moment, the rest of the messy world they had to deal with faded away.

  * * *

  They rushed into the studio, needing to see if they did indeed have a suitable replacement. When they reached the open airy space, he said, “This is beautiful.”

  “Thanks.” She crossed to a whole wall of cupboards. No, not cupboards. More like slots. Tall and deep, they were perfect for painting storage. She’d labeled them by the alphabet. At one time, Blake had thought she lived her life by chance, in chaos, but he’d come to see how organized she was, especially with her work.

  At the section marked S, she pulled out two paintings. Carefully, she slid the thick, soft foam pillows off the first and set the painting against the wall. Then she did the same with the second.

  Blake’s jaw dropped and he felt encompassed by the work. “Wow, I was startled by one version. Two together could give me a heart attack.”

  She grinned. “Don’t do that until after the opening.” She held out her hand. “Come stand with me.”

  “You don’t have to ask me to touch you twice.”

  Arm in arm, they studied the paintings. Raven could see the differences immediately.

  He took a bit more time. “They’re not the same, but wow, Raven, they’re both superb. How did you choose which one to exhibit?”

  “Gut instinct. Even then I wasn’t sure.”

  “Which do you think has the least differences?”

  “I know which one. You tell me.”

  He moved a bit closer to the work, taking her with him. He studied the brush strokes and the specks of color at the bottom. “Number one has more colors in the specks. But number two’s shading with the grays is different from the original.”

  “Exactly. Which would you choose?”

  “Is this a test?”

  “Of course not. I want my opinion confirmed.”

  “I’d pick the one with a bit more blue. The shading’s the best in it and that’s important.”

  She threw her arms around him.

  His face in her neck, he said, “I take it that was your pick.”

  “Yep.”

  They wrapped up both and put extra padding on the one they’d take to the gallery.

  She said, “Do you want to go right back?”

  “Truthfully, I’d love a cup of coffee. The adrenaline has kept me going, but I’ll fade in a bit.”

  “Come out to the kitchen. I’ll make you my country’s best.”

  He said when he was seated, “We haven’t even talked about what you revealed last night, not about what followed.”

  She glanced over her shoulder and said mischievously, “What followed was pretty damn good, Dr. Parker.”

  “So it was, Princess Marcello.” He cocked his head. “Is that your real name?”

  “Marcello is my legal one. But it’s my mother’s. The royal name is Gentileschi.”

  “Yes, of course, I’ve heard that name before. I think it was in conjunction with art education, though that wasn’t the name of the...yeah, it was Marcello Schools.”

  “That’s where I was educated until I was seventeen. The arts were integrated into all the curriculum.” She served them coffee and dropped down at the table.

  “Before we go into all that, and I want to know every detail about royal you, I need you to tell me something else. Why did you run out on me last night then come back this morning?”

  She sighed, but held his gaze. She was so beautiful it hurt his heart. “I was terrified by what I felt for you when we made love. Besides how fantastic it was.”

  “The best sex I ever had.”

  Oh, thank God. “Me, too, Blake. So I absconded, which is, by the way, my MO. I run.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I had to control my panic, too. Then why seek me out again?”

  “I got home about three, but I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about what happened and decided I...” She stopped.

  “Finish.”

  “This is a pretty big declaration.”

  “Tell me now, please. I have a declaration of my own.”

  “I care about you, Blake. But I remembered all the roadblocks—how the fate of the gallery hangs on your marriage to someone else and doing what your father says.”

  “Obviously, you overcame that.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. I was driven by something inside, a primal need to see you again.”

  “My turn.” He took her hands in his. “I care about you, too. Deeply. After all that’s happened—what Audrey most likely did, and this next thing is probably going to offend you, but the fact that you’re a princess, all of it will go a long way toward changing my father’s mind.”

  Instead of cheering her up, her face closed down. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can’t be part of a family like yours, if indeed that’s where this goes. I escaped patriarchal control with my own father.”

  He didn’t get mad. He was disappointed. Incredibly sad. And somewhat fearful.

  Raven had the same expression in her own eyes.

  * * *

  “What do you think?” Blake asked.

  Raven concentrated on the painting. “I think it’s a bit crooked.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  She was glad they could joke together. Things were bittersweet between them now, because they’d admitted their feelings, yet she’d made it clear why they couldn’t be together.

  Still, they’d declared a truce because there was still a lot to do. They had to hang the painting. And they had yet to decide what to do about Audrey. Righting this wrong was primary in both their minds.

  So she tackled the former. “I think no one, even if they saw it last night, could tell the difference. Especially since the lighting diminishes the blue.”

  Next to her now, he slid his arm around her waist. She leaned into him, her breast grazing his chest. Affection was easier than before they made love. “I agree. About the only one who might catch the subtleties would be Peter Bennett.”

  Raven had an idea. “You know what? I think I should call him. Tell him what happened. Invite him back to see the section again. Then he can decide if he wants to do anything about the review.”

  “That’s a great idea if he swears he won’t publicize what happened. We have to settle on a plan for Audrey.”

  “Let’s sit and decide that then.” Raven took a seat and pulled him down on the S-curved bench where only hours earlier she’d straddled him naked. “What are our options with her, Blake?”

  “The best course of action is to tell my father. And he can decide if her father is strong enough to help us. All I know is, her instability has to be addressed.”

  “Is that what you think it was?”

  “Maybe jealousy. She probably picked up the vibes between us, that were obviously there.”

  “Well, I felt the sparks of those searing looks from across the room.” Just saying it aloud made her shiver. And right now, she was acutely conscious of him—his scent, the way he moved, the pure essence of him.

  “What can I say? I’m smitten.”

  “Are you?”

  “I am. You have to make this decision, though, because it was your painting.”

  She cocked her head. “I trust you.” And admitting that was scary.

  “To do what?”

  “What’s best for you, your family and the gallery.”

  “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

  “Hmm, maybe you
can.” Raven pulled him up, turned in his arms. Laid her head on his shoulder. Unconsciously, her lower body ground into his. She felt his erection.

  “Raven...what are we doing?” His voice was hoarse.

  “I know we agreed that this between us can’t go anywhere, but maybe...”

  “Maybe?”

  “I want you again. What can it hurt?” In his ear, she whispered, “That couch in your office looks really comfortable.”

  Stepping back, he scooped her up into a carry.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sweeping you off your feet.”

  She nosed into his neck. “You already did that, Blake.”

  He strode to his office. It was still dark from having the blinds pulled, and he set her on her feet next to the couch. He took the time to lock the door then came toward her as he pulled off the top of his sweat suit.

  She shrugged out of her clothes, too. Soon they were flat out on the couch, naked and entwined. He kissed her ravenously, but with a gentleness that wasn’t between them the night before. He ran his hand down her arm, down her thigh. To her knee. She steeped herself in his touch. When he buried his face in her breasts, she ran her hands down his back to his butt. Squeezed there, causing him to buck into her.

  “I have to touch you,” he growled. “Move to your side.”

  The couch was wide so she could turn her body. He ground his hand into her groin, and she arched into it. He slid a finger into her, and his brows rose.

  “I’m ready,” she said hoarsely.

  “I can see that.”

  He pushed into her slowly, their gazes binding them together as well. He stopped when he completed the entry as if to savor the connection.

  Then he began to move.

  Chapter 9

  Blake walked into opening night, nervous as hell. He had so many conflicting feelings inside him, he couldn’t untangle any of them. He headed to section one of the new wing. And thought of Audrey. This afternoon, after they viewed the tape, she’d had a meltdown and confessed she was jealous of Raven. She’d tearfully said she was out of her mind with worry about losing Blake. Later, his father and hers had accompanied her by private car to a health spa, which was a place the rich went after breakdowns, and both men oversaw her intake. For a variety of reasons, Blake hoped she got the help she needed.