Chapter 20
SEPTEMBER 27 – SATURDAY 6:00 PM
N ash
The lights in the sitting room were dim as I finished adjusting my tie and slipped on my Rolex. Ren was still in her bedroom, and the time to leave was ticking closer. I looked down at my freshly tatted hands. Hands that screamed I no longer fit into this world. No matter how hard I tried, I’d never be just another athlete. There was blood covering them, and it didn’t matter what pool I swam in. It was never coming off.
“Are you ready,” Ren asked, her voice still holding a lilt of sadness.
I’d put that grief there and would do it again. Not a single word that I spoke was untrue. The first thing she would’ve done when we got back was try to arrange a meeting with my father. That could never happen for so many reasons, but most of all, because what she found would only break her. If there was even the smallest chance to shield her from some of that pain, then I’d be her villain.
After fiddling with my cufflink to avoid seeing the pain in Ren’s eyes, I turned around to face the temptress.
Everything in the room froze. Time stood still, and there was nothing but Ren. It had been the same at my disastrous birthday party. She had stepped into yet another version of herself, so far from the student at Wayward that my mind couldn’t connect that they were indeed the same.
Ren smoothed her hand over the dark blue material that matched the clearest coastal waters and shimmered like the moon on the ocean’s surface.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
I didn’t compare people to shimmering water or lose time when girls were around. Shaking my head, I stepped closer, but with each stride, the foreign thoughts spoke louder.
“You have great taste. Everything fits perfectly,” Ren said.
Stopping in front of her, I licked my lip and could still taste her on my tongue. Her soft silvery grey eyes glanced up at me from under her thick lashes, and…fuck. I was in so much trouble.
“I had help.”
Needing to touch her, I reached out and skimmed the back of my knuckles down her cheek. Goosebumps rose all along her skin, and she shivered. Running my hand around to the back of her neck, she gasped as my grip tightened. Those intoxicating eyes of hers widened, and her breath hitched as I lowered my lips to hers. At the last second, she looked away, turning her head. My mouth grazed her cheek, but I didn’t care while I breathed in her decadent scent.
Fuck my life, why did she always smell so good?
“We can’t keep doing this dance, Nash.”
Her chest rose and fell, and her pulse thumped under my fingers, screaming that she was suffering from a similar issue. She was as drawn to me as I was to her, and there was something so incredibly satisfying in knowing that I’d managed to get under her skin.
“Maybe not, but you smell so fucking good,” I whispered in her ear. “Why did you come with me today?”
“I told you that I have to be here,” she said, pushing against my chest to create some distance.
Ren couldn’t look me in the eyes, and that alone told me there was another reason. And even though I shouldn’t, because it would lead nowhere good, I was going to find out why.
“So, you said, Princess.”
Conceding to her need for space, I stepped back before I ripped that enticing dress off and fucked her against the wall. When she still wouldn’t look at me, my eyes settled on the necklace she never took off. The charm I’d given her last Christmas still hung from the delicate chain.
“Can you please not call me princess in front of anyone tonight?”
Ren opened her clutch and looked inside like there might be something interesting to see.
“No promises, Princess,” I teased and held out my arm.
She hesitated, but only for a moment. I would take it as a win and sign that maybe tonight wouldn’t be completely awful.
The short drive to the event was quiet. We were quiet. With each stoplight and turn that brought us closer to the event, a new seed of self-doubt settled in my stomach.
The museum was completely lit up like a Hollywood event, red carpet and all. As we waited in the valet line, I stared at the front of the large glass building, wondering if I had imagined this whole thing. If it wasn’t for the massive banners announcing the banquet, I would think it was a possibility.
“Are you okay, Nash?”
Ren touched my hand, and I snapped out of the daze.
“Yeah. Just can’t believe I’m actually here. It probably seems stupid to you. It’s just a dinner, after all,” I said, driving up to the next open spot.
“No, Nash. This is important to you.” She smiled, and my heart hammered. “Don’t forget the painting in the trunk, it’s our ticket in.”
The valet opened the door for Ren and helped her out. It was tempting to leap through the car and break his hand for touching her. I sucked in the sudden burst of rage and got out as he came around to open my door next.
“Touch her again for any reason, and I’ll break every single one of your fingers,” I whispered as I towered over him. “Understand?”
“Understood,” he said.
“Very good.”
Smiling, I hit the trunk button and then stuffed a hundred into the stunned man’s pocket.
Ren already had the painting out and was closing the trunk when I walked up beside her. I nodded toward the plain brown paper rectangle she was holding.
“Are you going to tell me what’s so special about this painting that it got us in here?”
She took my offered arm, and I was very aware of the guys looking our way. Without even trying, she commanded space and attention. Ren may not have grown up in our world, but she held herself like she did. Nothing seemed to intimidate her, and when it did, she didn’t let it show.
“I’ll tell you once we’re inside,” Ren said and politely thanked the porters at the doors.
The museum was buzzing with the energy of the occasion, and it was hard not to get swept up in the excitement. We stepped up to the sign-in table, and the woman working it smiled at us.
“Name?”
“Nash Collier and Ren Davies.”
She looked down the list before crossing off my name.
“Here you go,” she said, handing us two small baggies containing what looked to be informational cards, a few gifts, and a schedule for the night.
Floor signs directed us to Brotman Forum, where the dinner was being held. We followed them until Ren stopped and pointed toward an escalator.
“We’re early. Can I show you something first?”
“Sure. What are you up to?”
Ren gave me a small smile but remained quiet as we moved to the upper floor. The voices below echoed faintly as we stepped off and walked down the marble corridor.
Art had never really interested me, maybe because no one in my family cared or maybe because I didn’t have the eye for it. Whatever the reason, I didn’t understand what was so special about the pieces we passed or what made them any different than if I threw a can of paint at a canvas and called it art.
Ren tugged my arm to a stop, and I focused on the three paintings in front of us. Each had their own light as if setting them apart from the others. Ren gazed at the wall with a deep sadness in her eyes despite the small curve of her lips.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She turned to face me, and I still couldn’t read her properly.
“You asked me what was so special about this.” She held up the rectangle and then nodded toward the wall. “Those were painted by my mother.”
My head snapped back to the wall, and this time, I zeroed in on the little placard that read Illianna Davies .
“I recognized Mr. Paval’s name because he was a regular customer of my mother. This is one of five pieces left that I own. She painted these before she died and never showed anyone. I bartered this painting for the tickets.”
She looked at the wall again, and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
“Here, it will be loved and cherished forever by those who appreciated her work.” She wiped away the tear. “It was a good deal,” she said.
No one, not a single person in my entire life, had ever sacrificed something so precious to them for me. The guys would lay down their lives, sure, but this was different. Ren hardly knew me, and I certainly hadn’t been the nicest when she arrived. Yet it was a mysterious Canadian with white hair and a vicious tongue who freely gave of herself without asking for anything in return.
My thoughts were all jumbled together, and I couldn’t get out what I wanted to say. Cupping Ren’s face, I guided her back to me and kissed her. This might be a horrible idea, but I didn’t care as I poured every last ounce of what this meant to me into her. Ren moaned softly, and I had to pull away or we were going to get arrested for sure.
“Thank you,” I breathed against her lips and then licked the sweet flavor of her gloss off mine.
“You’re welcome.”
“Ms. Davies?”
Ren turned around, and I glanced over her head, ready to kill whoever had just interrupted us.
“I thought it must be you when security mentioned someone had come this way.”
“Mr. Paval, it’s nice to see you again. Yes, I wanted to show Nash my mother’s work,” she said, trying to step away from me.
She looked over her shoulder at me and lifted a brow when I grabbed her hip to stop her. It took more effort to release her than she would ever know.
“You look absolutely divine this evening, and I must say you’re the spitting image of your mother,” he said, lifting her hand to kiss.
I clenched my jaw as his lips touched her skin.
“Thank you, you’re too kind,” Ren said. Turning to me, she smiled. “May I introduce you to Nash Collier?”
“By all means. After all, he is the reason I’m getting my hands on something so special.”
It was a good fucking thing he was talking about the artwork. He held out his hand, and I clasped it, shaking a little harder than needed.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“Likewise. Ms. Davies has spoken very highly of you, and I have to say your trial times submitted so far are incredible. Keep it up, and the next time you hear from me will be with an offer to join the national team.”
“That is the goal,” I said, all too aware of how he glanced at my hands and the tattoo on the side of my neck.
“And, here you go.”
Ren held out the package to Mr. Paval, and he smiled like a kid a Christmas.
“May I open it?”
Ren laughed, and it was so good to see her smile. She lit up the room brighter than any of the pieces hanging from the walls.
“Yes, of course. It’s yours now. Out of everyone who loved her work, I know you’ll appreciate this piece the most.”
I’d never seen someone tear off paper so gently before, but when he pulled out the canvas, even I stared in awe. It was a close-up painting of a girl on a beach, building a sandcastle. Even though the young girl’s hair was black, there was no mistaking the muse. Ren’s silvery eyes were captured perfectly as she smiled at her sandy creation. You could easily see each tiny paint stroke that had been used to create the masterpiece.
“Oh my god,” Mr. Paval said. He took off his glasses and wiped away tears. “I can see why she kept this one out of sight. It would have been fought over, but never should be. I’m not sure I can accept this. It is so personal to you,” he said, confirming my suspicions.
But Ren shook her head.
“No, keep it. This is where her work belongs. Not wrapped up and hidden away. Knowing how much you and so many others will enjoy it makes my heart smile. It feels like a part of her is still alive and out there in the world.”
“I will cherish this forever,” Mr. Paval said, holding out his hand for us to follow him. “We better go. The banquet is about to begin.”
It was oddly satisfying when Ren automatically looked for my arm. This time, I laid my other hand on top of hers as we walked.
When I felt Ren’s stare on my face, I looked down. As our eyes locked, I didn’t know who was in more trouble, her or me…or maybe we were both drowning.