“It’d be quicker to walk,” I mutter as the taxi in front of us inches forward, then blasts the horn.
We’re two blocks away.Two. I could be at the gallery in five minutes. Less if I take off my heels.
Theo cuts a glance at me in the rearview mirror, as unreadable as ever. Then returns his gaze to the windshield.
“Not without clearance.”
I roll my eyes. Of course not. It’s not like I’m not perfectly capable of walking on my own two feet. Heaven forbid I have to exist among other humans.
Clearance.
I sag back against the seat, biting back the argument sitting on my tongue. It’s not Theo’s fault my husband is an overbearing planner.
I usually don’t care that Jensen keeps my life tied up in security measures. I like being taken care of. I really do. I always feel safe in my life, but sometimes the cage Jensen builds around me chafes.
This is one of those times.
I could grab the handle. I could get out of the car and risk the walk. No one is holding a gun to my head, stopping me. Theo would follow, of course, but he wouldn’t drag me back to the car like I’m a prisoner.
And probably nothing would happen.
I’d walk. Get some air.
Reach the gallery before the day ends.
But Jensen? Theo would tell him. He always does. There wouldn’t be shouting or anger, but I’d see the betrayal in my husband’s eyes. I’d feel like I broke the unspoken contract between us regarding my safety.
He protects me, and I do what he says to stay that way.
I’m not stupid. I know what it means to be married to someone like Jensen, to have the money we have, and what it makes me to the wrong people.
Leverage.
His fear isn’t unfounded. I’m his weak link. He would give everything we’ve built in exchange for me.
So I don’t move. I don’t put that fear into Jensen, not for the sake of two blocks. I like my husband sleeping soundly at night, knowing I don’t take unnecessary risks.
Theo’s gaze lingers on me, like he thinks I’m planning to run. I shoot him a smile before I go back to brooding at the traffic.
By the time the car pulls up outside the gallery, I’m twitchy to get inside, but I wait for Theo to come to my door. He pauses for a second before he lets me out, and I know he’s sweeping the street, just in case.
I slide out, and smooth my dress down my thighs as soon as I’m standing. Theo stays close to me, guiding me inside like I am a presidential candidate and not an artist.
My shoulders relax the moment we’re inside. I love my gallery. The mix of glass and brick with the natural wood holding up the ceiling attracted me to the space. It’s bougie.
And it’s mine. My home away from home.
The room is filled with partitions, a maze of walls, each one displaying artwork from local creators, as well as some of my own pieces. It’s impossible to tell if anyone is walking around from some angles, which stresses Theo and Jensen out. Theo would prefer a clear line of sight, but I won that argument. I just had to make one tiny compromise.
The several cameras hanging from the rafters, covering every inch of floor space.
Juno glances up from the desk. She’s perched on a stool, one foot resting on the edge, her chin on her knee, the other dangling toward the floor. Her hair is in two little buns on either side of her head, tuffs of hot pink sticking out through the platinum.
“Hey.” She taps a pen between her fingers, staring at the page in front of her. “I took care of the delivery this morning.”
I wince. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have had to do that.” I come around the back of the desk, shrugging my purse off my shoulder.
“It was a delivery—not a sacrifice to the art gods.” Juno lifts her gaze to Theo, who’s sitting at the little security desk near the entrance. He has a monitor in front of him—a live feed of every camera in the gallery. “Your favorite client is looking for a piece. Something understated for his estate in the Hamptons.” She doesn’t roll her eyes, but I feel it anyway.
