50. Lincoln

50

LINCOLN

I couldn’t stop watching her as she moved across the space. The need was a mix of worry and captivation. Because Arden herself was a work of art. She always was, but tonight, it was as if she’d discovered a new palette to paint with.

Holt Hartley’s company had provided the security for the evening. We had guards patrolling the entire block around The Collective, two positioned at every entrance, two checking IDs and running fingerprints at the check-in, and a handful more inside the party itself. Arden was safe.

I’d been telling myself the same thing over and over, yet my body wasn’t getting the message. My fingers held tight to my rocks glass, the bourbon inside remaining untouched.

I swept the crowd again. Lolli stood talking to Walter, the older man who worked at Sutton’s bakery. He had stars in his eyes, and I swore Lolli wore a hint of a blush.

Fallon talked with a man a few years older than her whom I didn’t recognize as Kye glared in the man’s direction, a clear threat in his gaze. Nora studied one of Hannah’s paintings, pointing something out to Rhodes and Anson.

The reporter who’d given Arden a hard time was scribbling notes, glancing in her direction every so often as if salivating for a sound bite. Shep and Cope stood at the snack table, helping Keely and Luca plate tiny sliders as Trace scanned the area, just as on alert as I was.

A dapper-looking Isaiah charmed Thea and Sutton. Had they not both been taken, I had no doubt they would’ve caved as he explained the motivation behind his most recent sculpture.

Hannah wove behind the table housing the phone bank for the auction, making sure everyone was set up. And Farah snapped something at a caterer whose eyes went wide. I was fairly certain Arden had found her new gallery manager in that one.

A figure slid through the crowd. Even his movements were snakelike. Quentin Arison wore a three-piece black suit with a blood-red tie, his eyes fixed on only one person.

My grip on my glass tightened as I watched him slither up to Arden, not caring at all that she was mid-conversation with someone. Her smile was tight as she greeted him and made polite introductions to the person she was already talking to. But nothing about her demeanor said welcome .

“Are you going to do something about that?” a little voice asked.

I nearly jumped, not noticing my tiny friend approach. Glancing down, I took in Benny. I couldn’t deny that he looked adorable. He wore a blue suit with a bow tie that had little paintbrushes on it.

“Well?” he pressed.

I grinned at him. “I think Arden’s pretty good at protecting herself.”

Benny scowled at that. “You don’t fix it, I’m going to.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess a little rescuing never hurt anybody. What if we tag team?”

A grin stretched across Benny’s face, and he held up his fist. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

I bumped my knuckles against his, and we started toward Arden’s huddle. As we approached, she widened her eyes in a comical SAVE ME message. As I got within earshot, I knew why.

“My collection really is one of a kind. It’s valued at over fifty million.” Quentin’s attention shifted from the man he was droning on at to Arden, his gaze sliding over her body in a way that had my hand fisting at my side. “Of course, I’m always on the lookout for new and promising talent.”

I eased into the circle, my arm sliding around Arden’s waist and lips dropping to her temple. “Everything good, Vicious?”

Arden melted into me, her hand going to my chest. “Just discussing the art we all gravitate toward.”

Benny put his hands on his hips and glared at Quentin. “I don’t think there’s any art in Miss Arden’s dress. You should look at the walls.”

Arden ducked her head, trying to disguise her smile as the gentleman opposite us started coughing to hide his laugh. Dots of red hit Quentin’s cheeks, but he scowled at the little boy.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” I murmured.

Quentin’s angry eyes flashed to me. “ Someone should teach this child some manners. Where are his parents?”

“Someone should teach you some manners,” Benny shot back, not intimidated in the least. “I know you don’t look at a lady’s boobies. My dad says.”

This time, both the man opposite me and I lost it. The older gentleman wore a cowboy hat and shined boots, and as he turned to Quentin, his belt buckle gleamed. “The kid has a point. And all that money talk isn’t the way we operate around here.”

Quentin lifted his chin. “I won’t apologize for my wealth.”

“No need to,” the man said. “Just like there’s no need for you to shove it down our throats.”

Quentin huffed out a haughty breath and turned to Arden. “I’ll speak to you when you’re not among such unsavory company.”

He turned and stalked away before Arden could answer, but Benny yelled after him. “She likes her unsavory company. Savory sucks. ”

Arden covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.

Benny turned back to us. “What’s unsavory anyway?”

She crouched down to give him a quick hug. “My favorite thing.”

He grinned up at her as he rose. “I knew it.”

A man who was the spitting image of Benny, just a few decades older, approached. “Benny, we talked about some thoughts staying inside.” He glanced at all of us. “I’m so sorry.”

I grinned. “Your kid is awesome.”

The man chuckled. “Thank you. I think so most of the time, too. But right now, he’s going to come get a snack with me.”

Benny looked up at me, his eyes narrowing. “Just because you think I’m awesome doesn’t mean you get a pass.” He made a motion of pointing two fingers to his eyes and then at me. “I’m watching you.”

“Benny,” his father hissed, pulling him away.

We all burst out laughing as Arden melted further into me. “Benny, my hero.”

“Hey,” I whispered. “What about me?”

“You’re always my hero,” she said, brushing her lips across mine.

“Five thousand dollars. Do I hear six?” the auctioneer called from the small makeshift stage as he gestured to the large watercolor Hannah had done. “Going once, going twice, sold to the gentleman in the back with the admirable cowboy hat.”

I glanced over to see my new friend, Howard, dipping his head in acceptance of his win. As I turned back toward the stage, it was to find Arden glaring at me. I couldn’t help it, I smiled.

“She is going to kill you in your sleep,” Kye muttered next to me.

I only grinned wider. “It’ll be worth it.”

“You’re not wrong,” Cope said, amusement lacing his words. “I really want to see that Quentin dude’s head explode.”

I’d purchased every single piece of Arden’s artwork that had come up for sale. Quentin had run up the bids, but I didn’t care. It was for a good cause. But the truth was, I couldn’t stand the idea of him having any piece of Arden.

“Our final piece of the night. Bleed to Bloom by Arden Waverly,” the auctioneer called as the crowd quieted. He pointed at the large canvas Arden had been working on the first time I’d walked into her studio. The one that had spoken to me from the moment I set eyes on it.

“He’s glaring murdery daggers at you,” Rhodes singsonged.

“Want me to use that new jujitsu move Kye taught me on him?” Lolli asked, her hands raising in some sort of made-up martial arts move.

“Oh, Jesus,” Kye said under his breath. “You promised you’d never do that in public.”

Lolli squeezed one of her biceps. “I know these guns are lethal, but that douche canoe deserves it.”

“Mom,” Nora whisper-hissed, pulling out the moniker she seemed to only use when she was really trying to rein Lolli in.

“Oh, all right, but you lot are always ruining my fun.”

“Or trying to keep her from a permanent record,” Trace muttered, squeezing the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s begin the bidding at one thousand dollars,” the auctioneer cut in. “Do I hear one thousand?”

Quentin raised his paddle. “Ten thousand.”

The crowd murmured.

“We have a serious player in our midst, ladies and gentlemen. Ten thousand. Do I hear eleven?”

I raised my paddle. “Twenty-five.”

Fallon let out a squeak behind me as the auctioneer’s brows rose. “Twenty-five thousand. Do I hear twenty-six?”

Annoyance flashed in Quentin’s dark eyes. “Fifty.”

Arden’s cheeks flushed as she wound her fingers together, glancing nervously at her painting. I knew this one was special to her. To us. And I wasn’t about to let Arison get his dirty little fingers on it.

“One hundred,” I called with a raise of my paddle .

“One hundred thousand,” the auctioneer called. “Do I hear one hundred and one?”

“One hundred five,” Quentin called. He was losing steam, and it was time for me to go in for the kill.

I didn’t wait for the auctioneer; I simply raised my paddle again. “One fifty.”

The auctioneer grinned. “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Do I hear one fifty-one?”

Quentin dropped his paddle like a toddler having a tantrum. “She’s not even worth twenty,” he spat.

Anger surged inside me as Quentin stormed out of the gallery. She . Not the painting but the woman herself. He thought he could own Arden. But Arden wasn’t a possession. She was a human being, one that could never be contained, one that lived fully only when she lived freely.

Benny leaned out the gallery’s doorway, calling after Quentin, “See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya, buddy!”

The entire crowd burst into laughter as Benny’s dad scrubbed a hand over his face. The auctioneer saluted Benny and then turned back to the rest of us. “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Going once, twice, sold to the gentleman in pink.”

“It’s mauve,” I called back, the crowd descending into laughter again.

Arden leaned in to thank the auctioneer and then made a beeline to me. “What is wrong with you?”

“Duck and cover,” Kye whispered.

Arden sent him a quick glare before turning back to me. “You bought every piece!”

“I did.”

“Why? To play in some dick-measuring contest with a douchebag?”

“Ooooh, now that could be a fun game,” Lolli interjected before someone hushed her.

“You said you hated the idea of your art being in his possession,” I told her honestly .

Arden gaped at me, her mouth forming that perfect O. “So, you spent half a million dollars on things I would’ve given you for free?”

I moved into her space, my hands lifting to frame her face. “I’d spend every last dime if it meant you having ownership of your work. And it’s a hell of a bonus that I’ll live surrounded by your creations—by you —every single day.”

“Linc,” she whispered.

“Love you, Vicious.”

“Love you, you over-the-top, ridiculous, alpha-male billionaire control freak.”

I grinned down at her. “You say the sweetest things.”

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