Fucking hell, I’m going to be sick all over his shoes.
Lincoln better be a fantastic kisser, or else spending time with his cousin will not be worth it. “It’s so refreshing to meet a man who doesn’t let a lack of height impact his confidence.” He’s easily six feet tall, but that’s what makes it hurt.
There’s a split second where I can tell Kyle grinds his teeth. But his smile holds firm. “You know, the problem with having a sense of humor is that it can’t keep you warm at night.”
Must be why he doesn’t have one.
I fake a laugh, taking a sip of champagne to cover the fact that I’m screaming internally. “Luckily, I'm covered either way.”
“Only if you say please,” he says with a grin.
Yep, I’m definitely going to puke on his shoes.
His mouth bothers me. It’s thin and reedy. Like someone typed “human smile” into an AI generator and then gave life to the nightmare fuel that came out.
Maybe I’m being too harsh. Even walking dumpster fires have rights.
“Are you enjoying the exhibit?” I ask.
“I’m certainly enjoying the view.” Oh god, someone look up insufferable in the dictionary, because I have the perfect mascot for it. “That’s why I put this party together. All this artsy stuff is a real passion of mine. I owe it all to my grandfather, of course. Brilliant businessman. The man taught me everything I know.”
This lying liar.
“Wow,” I say, feigning interest. “The man of the hour. How lucky am I?”
This facsimile of a man preens, as I knew he would. No one on earth likes boasting about themselves as much as trust fund guys. He probably played lacrosse and still talks about how he “could have gone pro.”
Kyle strikes me as one friend short of a podcast, cruel and boastful and completely unaware of how vile he is.
I know better than to touch him (who knows where those hands have been?) but I lean in and whisper, “That’s such a relief. For a second there I thought you were someone else in the family. I overhead some women talking earlier, and they had someveryinteresting things to say about his hair plugs.”
It’s too dark to tell if he pales, but he doesn’t act fast enough to hide his frozen expression. Oh, what a shame he didn’t wear a mask tonight. I fear that might have helped.
Pride too wounded to recover, Kyle finally drops the facade, his grin turning sharp enough to cut. “Actually, there’s really nothing special about you at all.” He throws back the last of his glass in one gulp, stepping back. “But maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll give you a second chance.”
Yeah, right. I never plan on seeing that man again.
Shaking off the grime meeting Kyle left on me, I search out a fresh glass of bubbly and make my way to the largest painting in the room. Abstract splashes of yellow and blue clash across most of the canvas in tiny explosions of color. All but one are kept separate, the colors fighting beside each other, angry and opposite. There’s only one spot, right in the center, where the teal coupling meets in a gentle sway.
Like a dance.
“What do you like about it?” Lincoln asks, his breath brushing my ear as he steps closer. I lean into him, pulled by his gravity.
For the first time tonight, I have no words. I shrug, unable to pull myself away from staring at the art.
I don’t know why it speaks to me, only that it does. In the same mystical way I find myself drawn to certain people. It interests me. It makes me think.
It makes mefeel.
“Would you like it?” he asks.
I whip around to face him. “You can’t buy this for me.” It’s huge, for one. Where would I even put it? It would look fabulous on that empty wall next to the door that I’ve been wanting to wallpaper, but it’s too much.
I couldn’t.
Could I?
“I think you’ll find I can do a lot of things,” Lincoln says, kissing my cheek. “As can you, if the rumors are to be believed. You certainly have a lot of people talking tonight. Are you enjoying yourself?”
