Not the hands that make me feel safe.
“Allow me,” a deep, gruff voice says.
Jacob Landry.
He’s a trust fund baby with more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes. He also thinks he’s an art critic, and I don’t challenge his views, because he spends a lot of money at my gallery. Particularly on my pieces. He’s bought at least ten of them in the last two years.
My smile is warm, despite the whirlwind swirling through my stomach.
I glance over at Theo, who has drifted closer, even though he knows Landry and that he’s not a threat.
“It’s good to see you again, Jacob.” He hands me back the bottle. I take a small sip and the coldness settles in my throat. “Are you in the market for anything in particular tonight?”
His eyes crinkle. “Mia, you know I’m always in the market for new art. And you always have the most exquisite pieces. It’s why I never pass up the opportunity to come to one of your events.” He leans in a little closer than is appropriate and I hold myself still. “That and you put on the best food.”
I smile, and then I discreetly shift back just a fraction. “It’s Juno who organizes these things. I just turn up and look pretty.”
“And you do that very well,” he says.
I blink. The man is at least thirty years older than me, and he also knows I’m married.
Even if he didn’t, the enormous diamond ring on my finger paired with my wedding band definitely tells him I am.
“Thank you.” I laugh, trying to cover the awkwardness. “What did you think of the collection?”
He gets this look on his face, like he’s really contemplating the merits of the artwork hanging behind him. “I enjoyed it. It is very provocative. Tell me, what inspired your pieces?”
“My series was—” Hands slide around my waist, possessive and familiar. I feel him at my back as he kisses my temple. It’s not affection. It’s a warning to Landry wrapped in intimacy.She’s mine. Back off.
I lean into him, instantly comforted when he squeezes my hip.I’m here. You’re safe.
My brain stutters for just a second before I find the words again. “It was, um… The understanding that hands can heal but also hurt, but with the right person they’re everything.”
“That’s an interesting concept,” Landry say slowly, his posture stiff. And not because of my words.
It’s the six foot wall at my back that has him on edge.
Jensen ignores Landry completely until his hand comes to rest on my neck. Then he turns to him, as if he only just realized he was here, in a space that is his.
“Jacob.” The name slices out of Jensen’s mouth like a knife.
“Mr. Rivers. It’s good to see you again.”What a little liar.Landry gives me a tight smile. “I hope you’ll allow me to put a reservation on at least one of your pieces, Mia. I couldn’t leave without at least taking one home.”
“Of course,” I say. “Juno can arrange everything once you know which portrait you want.”
He laughs, a hint of nervousness in his tone. “At this rate, my entire house is going to be filled with Mia Rivers.”
Jensen’s hand tightens on my waist. I feel the storm gathering from my husband and before he can unleash on the man, I step in, quick and light.
“You’re too kind, Jacob,” I say smoothly, slipping a hand over Jensen’s chest like I’m calming a predator. “Enjoy the art and the canapés. If you’ll excuse us, we need to go and be sociable.”
I don’t wait for a response. I steer my husband across the room, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Jensen plucks the bottle from me and grabs a fresh one as we pass the refreshment table.
“You’re not allowed to murder that man,” I say as soon as we’re out of earshot. Jensen uncaps the new bottle and hands it to me. “That was wasteful,” I mutter. “The water was fine.”
“Hetouchedit.” The words are sharp. Angry even.
