I glance down at the red dress I chose for tonight. It fits me like a second skin, and makes me feel beautiful. Maybe no one knows that I’m the artist, but I still wanted to feel special for tonight.
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.” My smile is shaky at best, and Kylie slips a glass of champagne in my hand. “Thank you. For everything.”
“It’s just some bubbly.” She winks and then slips away to work the room.
I don’t have any friends here. Not that I have many friends anyway. I guess Javier, my trainer, could be considered a friend. And Kylie. But I’m here alone, and I wander around, pretending to check out the pieces hanging on the walls.
I wish Willow and Ryker were here. Aiden would get a kick out of this.
And God, how I wish Gideon were by my side.I ache with how much I miss him.
I notice that Kylie has put severalsoldstickers by my pieces, and that makes me happy.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I glance up in surprise, and then feel my lip curl at the sight of Howey.
It shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here. One of the reasons I was attracted to him in the beginning was his love of art.
But I really don’t love that he’shereat my show. I hope he doesn’t buy anything.
“What do you think of this?” I ask him and sip my drink.
“Boring.” He shrugs, and I want to slam the heel of my hand into his nose. “I mean, the artist has talent, but it’s not my taste.”
Good.He won’t buy any of it. The thought of my work hanging in his home makes me nauseated.
“I like it,” I say with a shrug. “I love the mountains.”
“Figures. You always had simple taste in art.”
I fucking hate this guy. If Gideon were here, he’d tell Howey to fuck off.
“Well, I hope you enjoy your evening.” I turn to walk away, but he catches my elbow and spins me back to him, making me bump up against him, and my skin crawls.
I sense my detail step toward us, but I put my hand up.
I can handle this asshole.
“You’re going to want to take your hand off me.”
Howey smirks, and his eyes flick over my shoulder. “You gonna sic your guard dogs on me, little one?”
I smile back at him. “No. I don’t need to. Last chance, hotshot. Let me go.”
“Lena, I miss you—”
I stomp on his foot and shove my knee up into his groin, making him double over as I back away.
“When a woman tells you to let go, it meanslet the fuck go. You’re such an asshole.”
“That’s my girl.”
Oh, God.
That voice. I hear that voice in my dreams.
I spin, and there he is. He’s in a black suit that molds over that sexy-as-hell body perfectly. Holy shit, nothing has ever looked so damn good.
