She finally looks at me like she hadn’t noticed I was here, and her smile is condescending. "I wasn't propositioning him, this is an art event and I think he would make a great subject."
"Observe someone else."
Dom's hand tightens on my back, and I’m not sure if it’s a warning or encouragement. The woman's smile falters at my sharpness, obviously not used to being spoken back to.
"Right. Well, enjoy the exhibition."
She walks away and I'm shaking with anger. Is this whore night tonight?
"Roxy," Dom murmurs.
"Don't."
"You're about two seconds from causing a scene."
"Good. Maybe then they'll stop looking at you like…"
"Like what?"
"Like they can have you. You’re not for sale."
His hand slides into my hair, gripping gently.
"I’m already claimed, baby. Everyone here can see that."
"They're not seeing it enough, clearly. That was two women within the space of ten minutes."
"Then make them see it."
I turn in his arms, pressing my body against his, my hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. To anyone watching, it's just an affectionate moment between a couple. But the way I'm looking at him, the possession I know is in my eyes and the territorial claim in my touch, it’s not affectionate.
It’s ownership.
"Mine," I whisper.
"Yours."
"Say it louder."
"We're in public, Roxy."
"I don't care. Say it."
His eyes flash with hunger
"Yours. I'm yours. Only yours."
I kiss him then, and I don’t care if it’s socially acceptable. Get the hint ladies, he’s taken. When we break apart, I can feel eyes on us. Good. Let them watch.
Let them see that he's mine.
By 8pm, eight pieces have sold. I watch the red dots multiply, equating to thirty-two thousand dollars in sales.
But I can barely focus on the success because I'm still vibrating with jealousy. I never knew I had this side to me, I actually think I’m worse than Dom. Speaking of Dom, that man hasn't left my side since the second woman approached him. His hand stays on my waist, my hip, the small of my back. Constant contact and reassurance.
A third woman tries to approach near the wine table, young, pretty, wearing gallery-black and an interested smile.The alcohol is loosening morals. I don’t have to worry as when Dom sees her coming, he turns away before she can speak, pulling me toward the exit.
"We're leaving," he says quietly.
