Chapter Twenty-Four Gemma
Chapter Twenty-Four
Gemma
What on earth have I just signed up for?
Agreeing to an exclusive arrangement? What am I doing? I swore black and blue that I wouldn’t commit to a man again after Todd, and here I am, champing at the bit as soon as Max dangles his monstrosity of a cock in front of me. It’s like waving a red flag at a bull. I can’t resist.
If I’m completely honest with myself, I’ve been attracted to Max since the moment I laid eyes on him. That attraction might have been concealed by sarcasm and irritation, but it’s always been there. But I can absolutely enjoy this attraction without turning it into something more.
Truth be told, I like the way he tests me. I like the way he pushes me past my comfort zone. There aren’t a lot of men brave enough to do that.
His arrogance paired with how incredible he looks in an Italian suit has me counting down the hours until nine o’clock.
A loud buzz sounds through my office as my phone vibrates, lighting up with a message from April.
We’d planned earlier in the week to meet at the new Contemporary Art Gallery in Knightsbridge during our lunch break.
Since her work is only ten minutes away, and she has an excellent eye for art, it’s perfect timing.
The gallery’s manager graciously carved out time for us to peruse pieces recently donated from private collections.
We’re hoping to find something perfect for a potential collaboration with Gray Hotel.
I’m hopeful if we find suitable pieces, we’ll be able to bring prestige for both the gallery and our hotel opening.
I jump off the underground, adjusting my scarf against the frigid wind.
April stands just inside the doorway to the gallery, throwing her arms around me in a tight hug when I arrive.
“I’m so happy to see you! I’ve been looking forward to visiting this gallery for the longest time. Apparently, they have an incredible ceramic collection by an up-and-coming Spanish sculptor!” she says.
“Me too. God, I hope I can find something suitable. I feel like I need to prove myself to Chad-dick and Max,” I say as I adjust my bag on my shoulder.
Her brows tug together. “Why? You’re brilliant. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
Bless her, the angel. I need to tell her about Max and me. I know we agreed to keep our arrangement from Anna, but if I only have Henry to talk to about this, I’ll go insane.
I shoot her a small smile as we approach the reception desk.
“Good afternoon, ladies. How can I help you today?” says a cheerful woman.
“Hi!” April says. “We made an appointment to view the private collections today. I’m April and this”—she gestures to me—“is Gemma.”
The woman’s face brightens. “Ah, yes. Of course, I spoke with you earlier. Absolutely. My name is Camille and I’ll be showing you around the gallery. Just let me fetch our receptionist and I’ll take you through.”
We link arms as Camille begins our tour. We walk from room to room, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the gorgeous works.
“We’ve curated several pieces we believe would complement Gray Hotel’s aesthetic and vision,” she explains, gesturing to a brightly colored installation. She then walks us through a room of abstract paintings and sculptures. They’re edgy and sophisticated, exactly what I’m looking for.
“Oh, these are fabulous,” I say. April beams as she studies the canvases.
Each acrylic painting captures the London cityscape in an abstract style, contrasting various seasons and times of day. Not only has the artist captured the city in a physical sense but also its emotion through moody colors, brush strokes, and lighting.
“Oh my God,” April whispers, stepping closer to study the paintings. “These are stunning.”
I nod, completely enraptured. “They’re perfect.”
“These aren’t on public display yet, so you’ve picked a great time to view them. This is the most extensive collection we’ve had in the gallery to date,” Camille says.
We share an impressed glance before continuing through to another room.
April dances a little jig and squeezes my arm excitedly as we approach a glass cabinet showcasing all sorts of ceramic sculptures.
“Oooh! Imagine these scattered across various counters throughout the hotel. They’re so edgy and modern. They would be perfect,” she says.
I nod along as she points out her favorites, admiring the colors, shapes, and mediums used to create them.
“Excellent. I’m thrilled the pieces resonate with you!
” Camille claps her hands. “I’ll give you ladies space to peruse and discuss privately.
If you have any questions or need additional information, just wave me over,” she says before disappearing around a corner.
I still hear her footsteps, so I know she hasn’t gone far. Just far enough to eavesdrop.
When April’s done ogling the ceramics and sculptures, I drag her through to the initial viewing room with the paintings we loved so much. She scans the room before popping her hip and crossing her arms. “Now that we’re alone, explain why you feel the need to prove yourself to Max.”
I release a long sigh.
Her facial features twist into concern. “Don’t tell me he’s giving you a hard time—he’s lovely, Gemma. Honestly. I’ve known him a long time. He’s just a serious guy at work. Outside of the office, he’s really fun. He used to tease Anna and me all the time.”
Her history with Max growing up only makes this more awkward. April and Anna met when they were five—Anna had just moved back to London from Fiji—so Max has been like a brother to April, in a way.
I glance around, double-checking that Camille isn’t within earshot.
“No, it isn’t quite that… You see… Max and I…” I trail off, unsure how much to disclose.
She cocks a brow, lowering her voice. “Max and you… what?”
“I know you might tell James, but I’d rather you didn’t. Please.”
“Okay. If you don’t want me to, then, of course, I won’t,” she says, crossing her heart.
April is one of the most loyal friends I’ve ever had. She means every word she says.
I press my lips into a thin line, studying the ceiling as if it can provide perfect words to phrase this.
She gasps. “You slept with him, didn’t you? Gemma!”
“No, no. Not that,” I assure her quickly. Not yet, at least.
Her shoulders visibly relax. “Okay, then what?”
“Max fingered me.”
I’ll admit, that came out much louder than I intended, the words echoing through the space. An elderly lady examining a painting nearby scowls at me while April’s eyes widen.
A clattering sound comes from behind, and we both spin to find Camille fishing her pen from the floor, opening and closing her mouth like a fish when she looks up at us. I didn’t even hear her approach.
“Sorry, I—I was just passing back through to reception,” she says, her face beet red. “Don’t mind me.”
We watch Camille scurry away, her heels clacking in haste. The elderly woman huffs and moves to another room—probably for the best.
April turns to me and stands stock still, staring into my soul. Her expression is so unreadable, I’m worried she might be having a stroke.
My brows knit as I step closer, pressing the back of my hand to her forehead. “Can you feel your face? Are you numb anywhere?”
She blinks and I sigh in relief, lowering my hand.
“Say something!” I plead, flapping my hands.
“Sorry, I’m just… processing,” she says, stunned. “I mean, I thought you might be attracted to him, but—”
“There isn’t much to process. Anna’s older brother stuck his hand in me and used me as his own personal finger puppet.”
She drags me back into the sculpture room. “When? Where?” she whispers, eyes darting around.
I run her through all the dirty details of last night. By the time I’m finished, her jaw is tight and she throws me a worried look.
“Please tell me Anna doesn’t know.”
“Of course she doesn’t. I hardly think ringing her immediately after sucking her brother like a lollipop is appropriate,” I answer.
“Is this just going to be a one-time thing?” she asks, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Does the pope shit in his hat?”
“I have no idea whether the answer to that is yes or no.”
“Me neither. Probably no.” I check the time on my phone. “He’s invited me over tonight.”
She drags a hand down her face. “Gemma, I don’t really know what to say. This is—”
“Complicated. I know.” I nod.
“Is this really a good idea if you’re working together?” she asks, her voice gentle but concerned.
“We’re adults. We’ve set rules and will remain professional. And we agreed that once he returns to New York, it’ll be a clean break. No emotions, no attachments, no one gets hurt.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “Anna is your best friend, Gem. I’m worried about what it will do to your friendship if she finds out. She told you what happened with Nicole.”
April’s words slice through me. It’s nothing I haven’t already considered.
And usually, I’d never go there with anyone if April or Anna told me not to.
But Max isn’t just anyone. If I thought neither of us could hack the arrangement, I wouldn’t have agreed to it.
Max views sex the same way I do—as something that doesn’t require commitment and can be just that—a physical release.
If we both follow the rules and conditions of our arrangement, then no one will get hurt in the process. He’ll go back home to his fancy office in New York, and I’ll stay here. It’s not like I need to worry about running into him at the local bookstore.
“We should be allowed to follow our desires. So long as no one else is affected, which they won’t be, then it’s something we can both walk away from unscathed.”