Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
S ebastian
Charity events.
Another one.
I knew the rhetoric Drake and I had discussed.
Attending one was paramount to keeping our reputation throughout the city and in the aeronautical industry high. But being forced to attend a second one in a week didn’t help my mood, which was now fading into oblivion. At least this one was about art.
I loathed dressing like a penguin and being forced to chatter with colleagues, politicians, and corporate moguls, but often opportunities presented themselves I hadn’t anticipated.
I was surprised Drake had asked me to go in his stead, but it would give me something to do, perhaps taking my mind off the first pleasant night I’d experienced in several years. That had been three nights ago.
Three long nights when ordinarily I would have pushed the carnal moment behind, returning my attention fully to business. But the moment I’d seen her face, one like an angel, it seemed everything had changed.
Now I couldn’t stop thinking about her. While the sex had been hot, so much so I’d taken her three times in total, that wasn’t the only reason I remained enthralled by her. Yet I couldn’t put my finger on why. Maybe because her actions and attitude had been refreshing, entirely different than the vixens I’d allowed into my life. Everyone was out to gain something.
Money.
Attention.
Power.
Women seemed to have the most profound way of using their feminine wiles in doing so. I’d succumbed fully only once, my actions negating a long and arduous relationship. I’d never do it again, no matter how much I enjoyed a woman’s company.
But Kacey had been a refreshing change.
The center was buzzing with activity as I walked in, the entire front hall turned into one big, long bar. The convention building faced the Mississippi with sweeping views of the vibrant city. This time of year, the streets were always full of crowds enjoying dinners at one of the fabulous restaurants or heading for a concert.
I headed to the closest bar, pleasantly surprised there wasn’t a massive crowd waiting in line. People came to drink, to be seen, and to observe others. Rarely did they come with the idea of offering money to the charities. The caliber of people invited used their accountants and attorneys to handle their donations on a yearly basis. This was nothing more than art on display, from the talented artisans showing off their eclectic paintings and sculptures, donating them gladly to the charity simply to be noticed. It was a win-win for everyone.
Except to a man like me who found the pompous bullshit annoying as fuck.
“Kentucky bourbon. Neat,” I ordered before the female bartender had a chance to ask. I’d told myself I’d stay for forty-five minutes and no longer, enough time to be seen and photographed while smiling for the camera. With the stocks tanking, good press could prove helpful.
With the drink in hand, I shoved my other hand in my pocket as I headed toward the main room housing the artwork.
“Sebastian Winfield. As I live and breathe.”
I recognized the man’s voice immediately. “Mayor Trumbold. I see you slummed coming here.” Zane was the youngest mayor the city had ever tasked for the job. At barely forty, his often avant-garde methods of handling business regularly pissed off the first families who’d been here for generations.
But it wasn’t just his age or his different take on management of a lucrative city. It was also the fact he’d arrived from San Diego only two years before with his Barbie doll wife. Jealousy was a strong incubator of hate.
“Ah, yes. I need to get out with all the regular little people from time to time. Good for the image.” He laughed heartedly and slapped his hand into my outstretched one. “If I’m slumming, what are you doing? Digging in the dirt?”
I glanced toward the massive bank of windows fronting the hallway. “Something like that. I see you brought your beautiful wife. At least she will glow during this stale event.”
“Careful, Sebastian. Flattery doesn’t suit you,” Roxy said. We all laughed. While I’d sparred with the man during his first months in office, a crazy friendship had formed out of adversity.
We were often drinking buddies, although it had been a couple of months since we’d grabbed a drink out together.
“The same wild kitten as always,” I told her. The crazy thing about Roxy was that there was nothing fake about her. She was the real deal. So was their love life and marriage. I’d found myself envious of his relationship more than once.
“Where’s Drake? Aren’t you two usually attached at the hip?” Zane asked.
“Not tonight. He had some pressing business, so I stepped in for him. How’s the city?”
“A pain in my ass, but I love it.”
“Mayor Trumbold. Can I have a word?” someone called from behind me.
Zane rolled his eyes and leaned in. “Business calls. Let’s catch up next week if you have the time.”
“Just call me.”
Roxy squeezed my arm just before they walked away. She was one of the few women I’d enjoyed spending time with. Maybe because I didn’t consider her a piranha like so many others. I felt my jaw clench as I sauntered toward the main room.
Until Kacey.
Her name slipped across my tongue as easily as the sweet juice of her pussy had. I’d adored the way she’d moaned, spouting off my name with breathless whispers. She’d awakened the darkness within me as evidenced by how many times I’d fucked her.
Maybe I’d been an asshole for leaving without waking her or leaving a note. But I’d reminded myself what we’d shared had been physical and nothing more. We weren’t destined to be together and given she was in a hotel room, she was obviously from out of town.
Still, just thinking about her made my cock twitch.
The crowd inside was thick, but sadly, only a few people were paying any attention to the stunning works of art. Maybe I could find something provocative to freshen up my living room. I headed toward one side of the room, finding a fascinating young woman dressed in all pink attempting to explain her painting to a couple who just weren’t getting what she was saying.
I was momentarily distracted by her fuchsia high-top tennis shoes. They led to pink and white striped leggings, and a slouchy but chic sweatshirt ripped in all the right places, but the piece de resistance was the bright flamingo-colored hair. A smile crossed my face for no other reason than that she was comfortable in who she was.
As I stood in front of her paintings, I had to admit they were quite good, so good in fact I found myself walking closer. I don’t know if I’d expected her to be painting caricatures, but her representation of evocative couples was stunning.
I fixated on one of them. The woman was sitting on a bed, the oil creating an illusion of silk sheets. The girl’s arms were over her head, straps attached to her wrists from an exposed beam. Her lips were pouty and red, her nipples a perfect rose color.
Just like Kacey’s had been.
My God. Even the girl’s face reminded me of the stunning beauty.
Damn it if my cock wasn’t twitching. With the indulgent fixtures in the room, the painting had a gothic or classic feel while highlighting the sheer look of bliss on the subject’s face.
Just like Kacey.
I was suddenly hot under the collar, shocked just how much the girl in the picture looked like my mystery lover. Wow. Maybe I was seeing things that weren’t really there. I laughed to myself and sipped my drink.
“You have excellent taste,” a girl’s voice said.
I tipped my head to find the artist standing beside me. “This is a joyful depiction of allowing the darker side that exists in all of us to find the light.”
I had no idea where that had come from, but it was exactly the way I felt about the painting. It evoked my darkest needs. “I’ll take it.”
It was a whim purchase, something I never did, but, in my mind, the permanent reminder of such a special evening was well worth the sudden buy.
“Don’t you want to know how much it costs?” The artist was obviously shocked.
“I don’t care. I’ll strike a check when you’re ready.”
“I’ll mark it sold. Thank you.”
“Of course.” I continued staring at it until I felt a presence behind me.
“I had no clue you’d be here. I think my heart might stop.”
Hearing my best friend’s voice from behind me brought the second smile of the night to my face. Daniel Taylor and I went way back. He’d been a senior in college when I’d met him, myself a freshman and I’d managed to lead my rowing team to victory over his. After almost beating each other to a pulp, we’d become fast friends and had remained that way ever since.
I turned around and for the first time since our days of sparring, a moment of fury rushed into my system. Clinging to his arm was the woman I’d met three nights before. The surprise in her eyes was evident, her crimson polished lips pursing just as they’d done when I’d buried my face in her pussy.
The moment of sheer jealousy was something else new for me to experience. I never became the green-eyed monster, but that’s exactly what was happening right now. “Good to see you, Danny. I figured I needed a breath of fresh air and something different.”
“I see your tastes in art are similar to your tastes in women.” Daniel nodded toward the painting.
I looked over my shoulder, noting the artist had already marked it as sold.
“Yes, well, just trying to venture out. You can’t simply enjoy rare filet all the time and never get bored.” I was being a little crass without his knowledge, but the strange coldness and anger I felt inside had caught me off guard. “And who is your lovely companion?”
He narrowed his eyes as if telling me I’d lost more of my mind. “You don’t remember Elizabeth?”
“Dad, I go by Kacey now.” Yes, her voice was the same as three nights before, the smoky tone just another reminder that I’d fucked up.
I’d slept with my best friend’s daughter. How had I not recognized her?
“You look like you don’t know me,” she said.
How had she not recognized me? Because the times I’d seen her before, her dad had insisted she call me Mr. Winfield. “You’ve changed.” A great deal. Now I remembered. The last time I’d laid eyes on her had been just before she’d left for Columbia University. She’d been a seventeen-year-old kid with a gangly structure, wearing her signature braids and little makeup.
She’d changed significantly, becoming a beautiful, voluptuous woman.
And I hadn’t recognized her.
Fuck me. “Honey. You remember Mr. Winfield. Don’t you?”
“Just Sebastian.”
I took a gulp of my drink, trying my best to act nonchalant, but goddamn it, I was failing. Her dad would kick my ass and then some if he knew what had occurred between us. I’d often called the man a prude in how he handled raising her, but without her mother, he’d had his hands full.
Especially since his career had skyrocketed.
She held out her hand, finally managing to get herself together. “Now I remember, although it would seem as if we’ve all changed. You have gray hair at your temples.”
Her rebellious side had kicked in, the one that had attracted me to her in the first place. Her lips were now tightly pressed together and the look in her eyes was fierier than when we’d been together. We didn’t need to poke each other as a reminder that what had occurred could never be mentioned.
Nor could it ever happen again.
“Yes, that’s what happens when we age. Ask your dad. He’s starting to bald.” I was only teasing, but as expected, Daniel touched the back of his head.
“You’re an asshole, buddy. Hey, maybe you can come to dinner sometime this week since Elizabeth, I mean Kacey, is staying for a few more days.”
“Still in New York?” I asked her, doing my best to act natural. As if that was possible.
“Yes. I fell in love with the people, the foods, and the vibrant atmosphere. Totally different than in a sleepy little town like St. Louis.”
She grinned as her father drove his hip into hers. “We’re not a little town, missy. You just prefer the bright lights and crazy traffic jams.”
“Oh,” I said as I lifted my glass. “We have those too.”
Her smile remained, but it was plastic, practiced. I’d seen the same one when she’d addressed the jerk in the bar.
“I won’t keep you, buddy, but maybe dinner on Thursday night?” Daniel asked.
“I’ll check my calendar.”
“Good to see you. You need to get out more. You’re starting to look a little like a vampire.” Danny always loved busting my chops just as I did with him. It was our way of blowing off steam. Some had called our relationship a bromance.
Somehow, I doubted it would last if he learned I’d fucked his daughter. As they walked away, I remained right where I was, unable to take my eyes off her. She was dressed for the event, the dark crimson satin perfect for her eyes. While the dress was slightly conservative, likely selected by her father, she was without a doubt the most stunning woman in the room.
“You said you were paying by check, sir?”
I was pulled back into reality, but not before Kacey gave me a quick glance. The desire remained, but we’d both worn a mask to hide the evidence of our affair.
“Yes, a check. How much?”
As the woman handed me a piece of paper, I reached for my checkbook, chuckling at seeing the price. One hundred thousand dollars for an oversized painting to hang on a wall. At least the proceeds were going to charity.
And I’d have that memory I’d been thinking of.
Which was good, because there wouldn’t be anything else shared between us.
Ever.