Chapter 69
LEX
The Glasshouse Gallery - Manhattan, New York
Never been prouder in my fucking life.
Glasshouse Gallery split tonight’s showcase into three separate rooms.
Off to the right, some Brooklyn painter named Sloane is holding court in her own featured collection. Surrounded by hipsters and critics swooning over whatever minimalist geometric crap she threw on a canvas.
I don’t spare her a second glance.
Because Cade’s room is to my left.
And the place is fucking packed.
Sterile white walls, sleek track lighting, and concrete floors polished to such a high, glassy shine they reflect every damn canvas hanging around us. Buyers, collectors, and high-society snobs are crammed shoulder-to-shoulder just to get a glimpse of what my man created.
I wander through the room, taking my time.
Ten paintings.
Ten pieces of the man I love.
It’s hard as fucking hell not to just stare at Cade the entire time.
He’s standing up at the front of the room in that tux looking like a goddamn masterpiece himself.
Right now, he’s in deep conversation with a high-end buyer.
He’s gesturing toward the canvas in front of them with that quiet, intense passion he only gets when he’s talking about this art.
As I watch, one of the Glasshouse curators weaves through the crowd, tapping Cade on the shoulder to introduce him to another heavy-hitter. Cade handles the conversation effortlessly, flashing a smooth smile that makes my pulse spike.
“Champagne?” a waiter asks me.
“God yes,” I mutter, ripping it off the silver tray and shooting it back as Cade is greeted by Khoza and Mac.
I force my eyes away before I end up marching over there and pulling him into a corner. I stop in front of the largest canvas in the room.
The Gallery allowed the artists to spotlight a piece they could title Home in the center of the room and of course, my man chose the best one. The one he did of me and him naked in bed with our girl between our bodies.
As I’m staring at it trying my best to keep Little Lex down, a gray-haired woman steps up beside me. She squints at the canvas while adjusting her pearl necklace.
“Oh, my,” she whispers to her husband, pressing a hand to her chest. “The raw emotion in this one, dear… I’d take it home tomorrow.”
I snort into my champagne flute.
Not a chance, granny.
Stepping back into the reception hall, I set my empty flute on a passing waiter’s silver tray and snag a full one without missing a beat.
My eyes lock onto Bella before anything else. She’s standing over by some ridiculous marble statue of some naked guy with a tiny leaf slapped over his dick, laughing with Roman and Luciana.
Rico made all three of the girls dresses for today’s festivities. He put Bella in a black strapless with an obvious Lex-Barinov-Approved thigh-high slit that should probably not be legal here, but who the fuck cares. He knows damn well how much I love seeing her legs.
Love that guy.
Her dark hair is pinned up to the side in one of those soft, gorgeous waves that expose the long curve of her neck.
I weave through the crowd and close the distance.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Hey,” she says, smiling at me while resting a hand on my arm. She glances over my shoulder toward Cade’s room. “How’s he doing?”
“Good.” I nod, taking a sip of my champagne. “He looks happy.”
“Hey, Lex,” a low voice sounds behind me.
I turn around. Laing is standing a few feet away with Callie draped on his arm. That damn dragon peeking out of the top of his unbuttoned shirt.
Typical.
I grin, my cocky side slipping right back out. “Callie. I’m telling you, if he is holding you against your will… blink twice.”
Callie laughs when I pull her in for a quick hug. “Because that never gets old.”
Laing rolls his eyes, but there’s zero heat behind it. He turns to Bella. “Iz, can I borrow him for a second?”
Bella waves me off with a smile. “I’ll be right here.”
I follow Tattooed-Dragon-Dick away from the main floor as we navigate toward a quieter corner of the gallery near a high-end pottery display. His polite smile disappears the second we’re out of earshot from the rest of the party.
“I know things haven’t been the smoothest between the two of us,” he starts.
I cross my arms. “Okay…”
“I need your help.
Now he has my full attention. “What is it?”
“I think I found Meilin.”
“Are you serious?”
He nods. “In Moscow.”
“Moscow?” I choke out. “The fuck would Chang be doing there?”
“Expanding operations from the chatter the RST picked up.”
“So what do you need?”
“You.” He looks me dead in the eyes, all pretense stripped away. “And maybe Rez and Zeke.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “Look we just need to act soon and I don’t have the time to get a full RST team up and ready and—”
“You’ve got it,” I cut him off, not even needing to hear the rest of the guy’s reasoning.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You’ve helped us how many times now with Bella and shit.” My phone vibrates in my pocket. I fish it out, sliding my thumb across the screen. “The least we can do is—what the fuck?!”
“What is it?”
@LucaWasHere
Hey there, Lexie… did you miss me?
“No fucking way,” I grit out, turning the screen toward him.
“That’s not possible,” he says, head on a swivel as his eyes rake across the crowded gallery.
@BarinovUnhinged
You’re dead.
@LucaWasHere
Am I?
@BarinovUnhinged
Blade through your throat and a burnt corpse seemed pretty fucking convincing.
@LucaWasHere
And yet…
“What the hell, Lex,” Laing mumbles beside me.
@LucaWasHere
5
“What in the fuck does five mean?” I snap, looking at Laing.
He just shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
@LucaWasHere
4
“Shit,” I grit, adrenaline spiking like pure ice through my veins. “It’s a fucking countdown. Get Bella and Callie out of here.”
@LucaWasHere
3
“GET EVERYONE OUT OF HERE!” I roar, turning on my heel and sprinting full speed toward Cade’s gallery.
@LucaWasHere
2
Behind me, I hear Laing’s voice boom over the crowd: “EVERYONE OUT! MOVE!”
I round the corner into Cade’s gallery, my eyes instantly locking on to his hazel ones.
@LucaWasHere
1
???
Black.
Ringing. A high, deafening screech echoing inside my skull.
The suffocating smell of smoke, burning drywall, and blood hits my nose before I can even open my eyes.
“Lex! Wake up! Come on, man. Fucking get up!”
A shadowy, dark figure is leaning over me, dragging me up by the lapels of my tux. Coughing violently, I force my eyes open through the haze.
Zeke.
His face is covered in soot. Blood is dripping from a gash on his forehead.
I sit up, the room spinning out of control as the brutal reality of the scene slams into me.
The gallery is gutted. Concrete dust hangs thick in the air, illuminated by flickering fires.
Shattered glass coats the floor like fallen snow.
Screams, moans, and coughing echo through the wreckage.
Burning strips of canvas float in the air.
And in the center of the room, the canvas of the three of us in bed is burning at the edges.
Zeke hauls me to my feet. I stumble, my knees damn near giving out.
I grab him by the arm, my voice a broken rasp. “Where’s Cade?”
Zeke looks around, frantically shaking his head. “I don’t know. I was in the hall—”
“LEX!” A wet, choking sound calls out from the debris.
I spin around. Khoza is crawling across the dust-covered concrete, dragging his bloodied leg behind him. He raises an ash-stained finger and points.
My heart stops when I follow Khoza’s finger.
Trapped beneath a collapsed concrete pillar and pinned by twisted rebar lies a torn tuxedo jacket. Fresh blood pools around his head. His eyes are closed.
He’s not fucking moving.
“CADE!”