27. Casanova Takes No Prisoners
Casanova Takes No Prisoners
SARAFINA
“Who is that ?” Lila, the owner of Basecoat Gallery, asked, as she ogled whoever was coming inside next.
A sleek sports car had pulled up outside, and I stood on my tiptoes trying to see out the front windows. My breath caught when I realized it was Carter, and he’d driven the yellow Lotus Evija tonight, which meant he was in a mood to show off.
My stomach flipped as I watched Carter hand his keys to the valet, looking angsty and sexy as shit, and then he strolled into the gallery smooth as sin. “ That is Casa-fucking-Nova.” I breathed suddenly aware of every part of my body.
“ Who? ” Lila didn’t take her eyes off him, and neither did I.
Carter slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled into the crowded gallery with a smoldering expression painted across his face. Standing an easy head above everyone, the sea of bodies began to part around him as he cut through the crowd with a devil may care attitude.
Quiet wealth rolled off him—the suit he was wearing was no doubt custom, cut to fit every perfect line of muscle on his incredible body.
The top two buttons of his crisp dress shirt were undone, and between the clothes and the tousled hair, it was difficult to tell if he’d rolled out of bed looking that good, or if he’d just come from an actual romp between the sheets.
A pang of jealousy washed over me, as I hoped it wasn’t the latter.
Carter’s whisky-brown eyes were dark and assessing as he scanned the bustling gallery and then his eyes locked onto one thing. Me.
Every nerve in my body jittered with the realization that I was the target that this man had locked on to.
Carter’s lips hooked up on one side into a devilishly charming grin that would have any woman dropping her panties, including me , and I steadied myself, heart pounding, as all that sexy, powerful energy finally reached me.
He made no apologies as he dragged his gaze over me, taking his sweet time. My skin seemed to scrape against the silk of my plunging red gown while he took in every single inch of me with lusty adoration.
I was grateful when he stepped into my space and steadied me—surprised when he kept on coming.
Carter leaned in intimately close, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he murmured.
“You look absolutely fucking beautiful, Sarafina, but I’m not going to lie.
” My dangly earrings tinkled against my throat as he leaned in even closer.
“I might be partial to that little number you were wearing last night.” His fingers tightened around my waist, his breath an igniting caress on my skin as his voice dropped even lower, vibrating against me.
“Tell me, did you skip the underwear again tonight?” Carter pulled back and winked at me, but there was no boyish charm in it.
It was all raw, confident, powerful man.
Heat rushed to my cheeks and neck, and my plunging gown wasn’t going to do a damn thing to hide it. “You came.” Breathless, it was all I could utter.
He took my chin between his fingers, his eyes dropping to my lips.
“Of course I came.” The way he looked into my eyes in that moment, into the deepest parts of my very being, as if he could read every word written on my soul—I didn’t know if I wanted to jump him or sob with relief.
Time seemed to stop completely and then start again when he gave me the most earth-shattering smile.
“Sara?” a voice asked nearby, and just like that, every warm feeling I’d had was vacuumed out of me. Like a jello shot being slurped down by an already drunk frat boy, and speaking of frat boys.
I apparently had a terrible poker face because Carter immediately slid a possessive arm around my waist, like I belonged to him . In fact, it was so effortless, it felt like something he’d done a thousand times.
“And you are?” Carter asked, his gaze sharp, his tone low and assessing.
I shook myself out of my stupor. “Carter, this is Isaac.” I cleared my throat as it closed up involuntarily.
Isaac just stared at me, an entire unspoken conversation passing between us that made me want to puke.
Carter’s gaze was unforgiving as he stared Isaac down, and when Isaac finally looked up at Carter, his eyes flared with the realization that I was here with someone. Isaac immediately postured. Great, we were going to have a dick-swinging contest. Yippie.
“Um, what are you doing here?” I asked, attempting to keep my voice steady while I ignored how good Carter’s fingers felt, curled around my hip, how sensual his thumb stroking the small of my back felt.
God, I could hardly stand up straight with him touching me like that. Did he have any idea what he was doing to me?
“I have a couple of pieces showing.” Isaac explained, “And you?”
I nodded breathlessly as Carter continued his caress.
“Which ones are yours?” Isaac asked, and I hated every second of his gaze on me—the judgment as he dragged his eyes over me.
When Carter had just done the same, his gaze was steeped with adoration and longing—and it felt so wildly different from the way Isaac was currently looking at me.
In that moment, I knew—I had been wrong to second guess what had happened at Isaac’s apartment that night.
I wasn’t just being sensitive about what had happened before I’d even discovered that camera.
He’d crossed a line. I knew it, because Carter had never ever made me feel the way Isaac had that night—like my voice didn’t matter.
And the fact that he’d tried to record it, well, that was just the icing on the cake.
With Carter like a guard dog, ready to attack at any second, I cleared my throat, finding my voice again. “I’m the main one.” Why was I downplaying it?
“You’re the feature?” Isaac asked, shocked. Ouch, if that didn’t hurt.
I nodded, my voice getting caught in my throat as a lump formed. I hated that he was here. I hated it so much. Just when I was finally starting to enjoy myself for once.
“How the hell did you manage that?” Isaac asked, and then he looked at Carter suspiciously. “Never mind. It looks like you had a hookup. I see you found another friend .” With benefits is what he didn’t say, but I could practically feel the words sitting on the tip of his tongue.
That fucking prick assumed Carter was my benefactor.
I didn’t know why it bothered me so much.
Lots of incredible artists had them, but I had earned my place tonight, all on my own.
I had gotten here with literal blood, sweat, and tears.
It was the only thing of note that I’d achieved this year, and him reducing it down to—well, it didn’t matter.
He was an ass. An ass disguised as a nice guy .
Ugh! My heart thundered as his words looped in my mind over and over.
I tried to find that kernel of accomplishment, that pride for what I’d created, but it felt so far out of reach now.
Carter’s grip released as he stepped into Isaac’s personal space, a full head above him.
“Let’s see if your pieces are worth their salt.
” Carter said, pretending he was, in fact, an interested investor.
I mean, in reality, he could have been. He could support the entire gallery if he wanted, let alone a single artist.
“What?” Isaac asked, taking a step back.
“Unless you’re not pursuing a benefactor.
” Carter mused, becoming mildly disinterested.
Something was different about him tonight.
Whatever it was, it was hot as fuck. “Perhaps it would be a waste of my time.” Carter droned, and casually checked his watch as if he had other more important things to do—I smiled to myself, catching a flash of pink.
Carter was basically ripping Isaac to shreds with his eyes, and I jabbed him in the side as subtly as I could, but Carter was having none of that. He stepped forward and gripped Isaac’s shoulder. “What do you say?” Carter practically growled, and my stomach flipped at the sound. Damn.
I suppressed a smirk, kind of loving how protective he was being. I’d never seen him so—commanding, so intense. I tried to ignore what it was doing to my body. I failed. It was doing wild things to my insides. Feral things. Ungodly things.
Isaac winced under the grip. “Uh, sure, that’d be great.”
That’s when a whole new set of nerves hit me. I realized Carter was better educated about fine art than most people I knew. He wouldn’t even be pretending as he evaluated Isaac’s work… as he evaluated my work afterwards.
Oh God, I was going to puke.
Growing up, I’d seen the priceless pieces that had filtered through the Kensington Estate, one after another. Pieces that most people wouldn’t even dream of seeing in their lifetime, Carter had casually hung on the walls of his house.
Panic hit me like a freight train. This wasn’t just my friend looking at my art, this was someone whose eyes were trained to evaluate art for investment purposes. Someone who was trained to spot shit from a mile away.
Oh God. I should have tried harder to keep him away tonight. The worst part was I knew he’d be nice about it, even if he thought my collection was utter trash. How pitiful that would be. This was going to be humiliating.
“I’ll only be a moment, sweetheart.” Carter turned to me again, fingers trailing down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he took my hand. He pressed a supple kiss to my knuckles, giving me a smoldering look that could only be interpreted one way.