36. Arden
36
ARDEN
“Where do you think you’re going?” Linc asked as I stepped into the living room, finally dressed after a morning of my brother giving me the third degree. Thankfully, Luca and Sutton had managed to rein him in.
Linc sat in one of my overstuffed chairs, a tablet in his hands and looking too hot for his own good. He’d changed earlier, after one too many of Cope’s shirtless barbs. Linc wore dark jeans, boots, and a worn Seattle Sparks T-shirt. No one would’ve pegged him as a tycoon now, and I loved the juxtaposition.
“You keep looking at me like that, and the only place you’re going is back to the bedroom,” Linc growled.
Heat flared between my legs. I didn’t hate that idea, but I needed to get some things done first. “I’m going to The Collective.”
Linc set the tablet down and pushed to his feet. “Why?”
“Because I need to check on things for the auction and show.” After I’d finally grabbed my phone from the studio, I found more than a few worried texts from Farah, Isaiah, and Hannah—and some annoying ones from Denver .
“Can’t Denver do that? Or whoever owns the gallery space? Shouldn’t they be helping?”
I winced and then pointed at myself.
Linc’s brows lifted. “You own The Collective.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “It was my first big purchase other than Wanda.”
“Who the hell is Wanda?” Linc asked, confusion lining his features.
“My truck.”
“Good name. Fits her.” Linc moved into my space, his hand running over the side of my face. “Why wouldn’t you just tell me you own The Collective?”
I shrugged. “I don’t tell many people. My family knows. Denver, Isaiah, Farah, and Hannah. But that’s it, really.”
His roughened thumb stroked the line of my jaw. “Hates being the center of attention.”
I made a face. “People don’t need to know it’s me.”
“No, they don’t. But I think what you’ve created is pretty damn amazing. And I bet the community programs were your brainchild.”
My cheeks heated. I remembered when I’d gone to Denver with the idea. He’d thought it was a waste of time and money. I’d deflated but pushed on, and was so glad I had. Because those programs filled my cup more than anything else.
Linc dropped his head, his lips sweeping across mine. “You’re incredible.”
“Linc,” I whispered, trying not to squirm.
“Okay, too much attention. Let’s go to the gallery.”
“You don’t?—”
Linc pinned me with a hard stare. “I go where you go.”
“That means I’m gonna ogle you. You’ll just have to deal with it.”
Linc barked out a laugh. “I think I can handle it, Vicious.”
We made the trip into town in Linc’s Range Rover. I was shocked when he’d been okay with letting Brutus on the leather seats, but Linc had just leveled me with that stare and said, “It’s an SUV. I think it can handle a little dog hair. ”
But that was Linc. He might have nice things, but he didn’t worship at their altar the way my dad had. He enjoyed them but didn’t protect them at all costs. And even though business clearly gave Linc a charge, he wasn’t constantly looking for more, more, more.
Linc turned into a spot a block down from The Collective. The town was already full to the brim with tourists milling about, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Hopefully, one or two would make a purchase in the gallery.
I hopped out of the SUV and moved to the back seat to hook up Brutus’s leash and let him down. Linc met me at the front of the vehicle, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. It would’ve felt like a completely normal outing if not for the squad car that had followed us into town and parked a couple of spots down.
The deputy wasn’t following us in, but he wanted to be close. That reminder of my studio and the rage had my stomach twisting. But I shoved it down. I wouldn’t let the asshole win. I refused to live in fear.
“You good?” Linc asked as we walked toward the gallery.
I looked up at him. “I’m annoyed.”
His lips twitched. “Still mad at Cope?”
“Well, his overprotective, alpha-male ass is annoying.”
Linc chuckled, the sound skating over me in a pleasant shiver. “I don’t know about alpha male. Overprotective? Yes. But I’m pretty sure he’s just as protective of his brothers as his sisters.”
I scowled at him.
Linc released me and held up both hands. “What’d I say?”
“You had to go and make a good point.”
That made him laugh. “I’m so sorry. Never again will I make a good point.”
“That would be the gentlemanly thing to do,” I huffed.
Linc grinned at me as he opened the door. “Baby, I’m a lot of things, but a gentleman isn’t one of them.”
A shiver of promise raced through me, and I was pretty sure my eyes dilated as memories of last night swirled through my mind. I stretched up onto my tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “I don’t know, Cowboy. You let me come first. If that isn’t the mark of a gentleman, I don’t know what is.”
“Vicious, if you make me walk into this gallery with a hard-on, I am going to spank your ass.”
A fresh wave of heat swept through me as different images flashed in my mind.
“You like that idea,” Linc rasped, his eyes going hooded.
My gaze cut to his, the hazel a darker green now. “I think I do.”
“Gonna kill me,” he muttered.
“But we’ll have fun on the way out,” I said, a smile lacing my tone as I stepped into The Collective.
As I moved inside, it was to find Farah standing there and fanning herself with a pamphlet about the gallery. “Would you two ever consider posing naked together?”
I choked on a laugh. “Farah.”
“What?” she asked with mock innocence. “You’re both hot as hell. We could do a whole show around it.” She did a little jump. “I’ve got it! Tonight. Mood lighting. Wine. You two in the throes of passion, and me capturing it all.”
“As flattering as that is, I’m gonna have to go with no on that one,” Linc said, fighting a grin.
Farah made a wailing face. “You’re raining on all my hottie-on-hottie dreams over here.”
I patted her shoulder. “So sorry.”
Her expression shifted, concern filling it now. “Are you okay? We heard someone messed with your studio.”
Trace was doing everything he could to keep the details under wraps. The story we were going with was that it was a break-in and some minor vandalism.
“Someone felt like being an asshole is all. Probably thought there was stuff they could sell in there. Got mad when there wasn’t,” I lied.
“That’s so scary,” Hannah said, emerging from the office area with Denver in tow and looking worried. “But Trace’ll get them. He always does.”
Denver’s expression was hard to read, but I saw the hint of a pout on his mouth. “You didn’t think I might want to know about this? That it’s something I should know about?”
I bristled at that, and I wasn’t alone. Linc stepped up to my side, his already large frame somehow seeming more massive. “And why would that be?”
Anger flashed in Denver’s brown eyes. “She’s my friend.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “And what if pieces for the auction and show were damaged? I’d need to know immediately.”
There it was. The truth. Denver didn’t give a damn about me. He just wanted more art.
How had it come to this? We’d been friends for years. Had grown up in the art world together in many ways. But it had been so much more. We’d cared about each other’s wins and consoled the losses.
Now, I was nothing more than a cash machine to him. God, that sucked.
I lifted my chin and met Denver’s stare. “You already have all my pieces for the auction.”
Denver’s jaw worked back and forth. “I’d still need to know about damage to other pieces.”
“Because you might not have enough to sell?” I challenged.
A muscle fluttered in his cheek. “It’s my job to manage your inventory. To know what’s coming on the market and?—”
“No,” I clipped. “It’s not. It’s your job to manage The Collective and the pieces that come into the gallery. You don’t get to dictate what I’m giving you or when. You don’t even get to know what I’m working on. Because my art is just that. Mine . You can’t control my creative process.”
The room went silent for a moment. Hannah’s gaze ping-ponged between us as she wrung her hands. Fighting and awkwardness were not her things. Farah, on the other hand, loved moments of honesty. She started clapping. “Preach it, sister. No one owns you.”
Denver sent her a glare that should’ve had her taking a step back but didn’t. “I’d watch it, Farah. I’m the one in charge of pushing your stuff, too.”
She just rolled her eyes, unfazed. “Let’s be real, Denny Boy. You don’t put any effort into our stuff. Arden has always been your prize show pony.”
Surprise streaked through me. Is that really what she thought? What they all thought? I sought out Hannah, whose gaze dropped to the floor as she tugged her lip between her teeth. She thought the same.
Hell.
I didn’t follow much of what Denver did on the private side. The gallery space made enough to keep the building afloat, and that was all I cared about. But my lack of involvement had hurt the people I cared about. I really would have to fire Denver, which would hurt like hell.
Denver’s mouth twisted into what almost looked like a snarl. “It’s not my fault your work just isn’t quite up to snuff.”
Hannah’s head snapped up, and I saw hurt blazing in her hazel eyes. “Denver,” she whispered.
He just rolled his eyes. “Your watercolors are fine, but nothing that will spark real excitement in the art world.” Denver turned to Farah. “And your mixed media is hit or miss at best. Without consistency, you’ll never carry a show on your own.” He flicked those ridiculous feathers in his hair over one shoulder. “At least Isaiah has something to say. It might be one note, but that’s better than nothing.”
“You’re fired.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
Denver’s head whipped around in my direction. “You can’t fire me.”
“Can’t I?” I asked as fury coursed through me. A good portion of that rage was pointed directly at Denver, but the rest was squarely on me. Because I hadn’t seen what was going on. Hadn’t seen it because I wasn’t paying attention.
“You need me,” Denver hissed.
Linc scoffed. “Does she? Arden has created something more special than you could ever dream of. What have you done other than get in her way?”
Denver’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, and you’re an expert on that now because you’re fucking her? ”
Oh, shit.
Linc stalked forward. “I’m giving you that one because you just had your ass handed to you, and with your lack of professionalism, I doubt you’ll be getting another job anytime soon. But if you ever talk about Arden like that in front of me again, I will break your nose before you can blink. Then I’ll take great pleasure in making sure every company you apply for a job with from now on knows exactly how shitty of an employee you are.”
Denver opened his mouth, but Farah cut him off. “Oh, I wouldn’t, Denny Boy. Linc here has the reach to ruin you.”
Denver snapped his mouth closed, rage still swirling in his expression.
“Get your stuff,” I said quietly, a heaviness taking over.
“You’re seriously doing this?” he asked, delusional shock filling his words.
“What other choice did you give me?” I shot back. “The Collective is supposed to be about coming together to create something better than any of us could do alone. But you’ve been undermining that at every turn. And I’ve been too checked out to see it.”
“I wasn’t?—”
“Get your stuff,” I clipped. I didn’t want to hear his excuses.
“Or I can help you,” Linc ground out.
I did not want to see what that would look like. Brutus let out a low growl at my side as if to say, “ Move it .”
Denver stomped toward the office area and grabbed some papers and his laptop before picking up a plant from the desk and a massive amount of snacks he’d probably bought with the company credit card. He looked ridiculous as he tried to move toward the front door.
“Here, let me get that for you,” Linc offered in a sickly-sweet voice.
“Fuck off,” Denver muttered as he stalked past.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Farah called.
The door shut, and we all stared at each other for a long moment. I was about to speak when a ring cut through the quiet. Linc pulled his phone out and frowned. “It’s my second-in-command. ”
“Take it,” I urged.
“You sure?”
“Of course.”
Linc answered, heading out the door as Isaiah strode in, looking more than a little rumpled. His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes red, and his hair messy. He looked around the room. “What the hell crawled up Den’s ass?”
Farah’s lips twitched. “Pretty sure that was Arden.”
I scrunched up my nose. “Gross.”
“No one wants up there, but I am into a little ass play,” Isaiah said, giving me a wink.
Farah laughed. “That what you were up to last night? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re wearing the same clothes as yesterday.”
Isaiah grinned at her. “If I could remember what I did last night, I would be happy to share it with my favorite dirty bird.”
“I’m gonna get back to my painting,” Hannah said, her voice small.
“Wait,” I said quickly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Den wasn’t pulling his weight for you guys. I promise I’ll find something better.”
“Not your fault,” she said quickly.
“It’s not, really,” Farah echoed. “Douchey Denny is his own problem.”
“I still should’ve caught it.” And I’d keep kicking myself about that for a while to come.
“Is someone going to fill me in?” Isaiah asked.
“I think that’s a job for Arden. Hannah and I gotta work on our mediocre art,” Farah said, wrapping an arm around Hannah and leading her toward the studio spaces.
I winced. It was Farah’s way to make a joke out of everything, but that one cut.
A hand landed on my shoulder. “Ardy. What the hell happened?”
I looked up into Isaiah’s warm, understanding eyes. “I fucked up.”