37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Midnight Masters
SAL
Harmon’s Opening Night
Sal paced back and forth, admiring her vibrant sapphire-blue silk dress in her reflection.
Her glossy dark brown hair swayed elegantly as she tilted her head, while her white-gold diamond studs and delicate diamond necklace sparkled as they caught remnants of the late afternoon light.
The theme of Harmon’s opening night called for formal wear, and because she was an art curator now, she had formal and business clothes at the ready.
She chose this dress because it complemented her cool-toned skin, and it made her feel beautiful.
One last check of her evening makeup, and she was ready.
Willow met her in the hallway, wearing her usual boot-cut pantsuit.
Except this time, her pantsuit was deep purple; she wore it with pumps, and her blazer was low-cut, revealing her décolletage.
Straightening her signature big curly red hair into a silky long bob made her look like a different person.
Baron had given her an invitation, allowing both of them to attend the opening night.
“Holy hell, Willow! You look like a model.” Sal gasped.
Willow flipped her hair comically. “You look amazing too!” she enthused, jokingly trying to bow toward Sal.
After the two of them had had their laughs, they scurried into Theola’s car.
Willow had asked if she wanted another invite from Baron, but Theola insisted she just drop them off instead of joining them.
As she put it, attending Harmon’s opening night was too much pressure, and she wanted to focus on their art fair exhibition, which was due the following week.
“You guys have fun!” she trilled, and she drove off after promising to pick them up later.
Sal stood for a moment, gawking from the foot of Metro Manila’s newly refurbished National Museum of Fine Arts.
The place looked so grand. There was cinematic lighting everywhere: humongous signs hanging from the top of the museum, and powerful lights brightened up the night sky so that anyone from a mile away could see.
They ascended the steps and entered a majestic cocktail party on the lower floor, where contemporary paintings hung, and where elegant, glittering people in gowns, jewels, and coats floated about, admiring the art.
“It doesn’t feel like we’re in the Philippines anymore,” Willow whispered.
“I guess that’s what they were going for,” Sal responded.
She felt intimidated for a moment, like she had stepped into a battle with someone who was in a class of his own and whom she had severely underestimated.
What he called an “art exhibit” was disproportionately different from what she would have defined it.
This felt like an otherworldly experience masked as an art exhibit.
Perhaps this was what Theola was saying just a while back.
But Sal resolved to stay. Besides, I don’t want to waste the dress, she thought.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sal could make out distinguished faces in the art world. “That’s Troy Gallagher,” she said under her breath to Willow. And later on, as they ascended to the second floor, more and more famous faces, both in art and pop culture, came into view.
Willow saw one of her favorite pop singers along with Sal. “Oh my God, that’s—”
“Hey, Willow,” said a smooth British voice. It was Baron.
Sal had never really gotten a good look at the young man because her attention was always cast toward Harmon.
But now that he was without Harmon and next to Willow, she was pleased to find that they looked good together.
He looked very charming in a deep green suit that brought out the green in his eyes.
Just as she was about to ask where his boss was, a deep voice spoke.
“Sal…”
Sal’s heart gave a sudden jolt as she turned to see the towering Harmon Moon in a tuxedo.
He looked dashing with loosely slicked-back hair paired with his well-fitted tux.
It had been a week since they had last seen each other, and Sal was convinced that he looked more handsome each time she saw him.
I really am falling for this guy, she thought as she exhaled through a smile.
He cast a smile toward her. “How are you liking the show?” he asked, a drink in his hand.
Sal grimaced. “It’s a little overwhelming…”
Harmon’s gaze deepened. “Come, I’d like to show you something…” he said, reaching out.
Hesitantly, she took his hand, and he tugged her gently through the crowd. People greeted him as he passed, and he nodded to each one. Their eyes drifted to Sal and then back at Harmon. “Don’t mind them,” he whispered as he hooked her hand in the crook of his arm.
Harmon led her to a small room on the third floor.
It was dimly lit, with lights mimicking the night sky dancing on the high ceiling.
Bust statues of women lined the walls, each with their features playfully lit up by the dimmed lights.
“This part of the exhibit will open on the third day,” he told her.
“It’s exquisite,” she said, breathless, looking up at the ceiling with a faint smile on her face. The sculptures were all so well-made.
“Here’s one that reminds me of you,” he said, sauntering toward a sculpture of a young-looking woman. She had a steady, knowing intelligence in her stare.
“What about her reminds you of me?” she asked.
Harmon didn’t speak; instead, she heard him move and position himself behind her.
Her heart pounded, her skin warming in a sharp, almost painful anticipation, as though it had been waiting for him.
When his hand drew her hair to one side, she let out a soft breath, nearly losing herself as his warmth met her bare shoulders and his lips brushed the curve of her nape.
She turned to face him, only to find a restrained longing burning in his gaze.
“Please…” He was so tall he bent over and ended up kneeling. His forehead leaned against her stomach, and Sal rested back on the heavy statue behind her. “I want you…” he pleaded. His voice was gruff and wanting; his hands inching up her dress.
Sal closed her eyes, the restraint leaving her bones while she felt his hands claw at the sides of her thighs, earnestly yearning for her.
She breathed heavily to tame her wildly beating heart.
Her legs trembled at his touch, and her skin prickled at the sound of his labored breaths.
She bent over and shifted her weight onto her knees.
Now both of them were kneeling as she cradled his face in the palms of her hands.
She looked at him tenderly. “Hold me then, Harmon.”
Harmon looked into her eyes. He nearly lunged, and their lips clashed—wildly, ravishingly.
Harmon lifted her in his arms, and she let out a startled yelp.
His mouth traveled to her neck, and then to her chest as he straddled her legs around his hips and pinned her against the wall.
He removed his coat and threw it across the room.
When he lifted her dress, a nervousness ran through her, and she placed her hands on his with some urgency, and their lips parted.
“Wait,” she said, breathless, his grip remaining tight as she straddled him.
Harmon exhaled, burying his face in the space between her neck and her chest. “I’m sorry…
I got carried away,” he said, releasing another deep breath and looking up at her.
She imagined all the ways Harmon would rip into her and make her beg for release if she let him, but she doused that fire and willed herself all the restraint left in her body.
She cupped his face so his gaze met hers.
“I’ve never made out in a museum before.
” She kissed his forehead and let out a lighthearted giggle.
She looked into his eyes and felt a tender longing emanating from them, as if he were pleading to be loved, to be chosen, and she could not look away.
“I love you, Harmon Moon,” she whispered.
His eyes rounded slightly. “Does this mean you and I are a couple?” he said as he pecked her on the lips once more.
“Yes,” she said, kissing him back, her heart dancing.
“I’ve already won then,” he said, kissing her again and easing her onto her feet.
Then, a phone rang through the room. His coat lit up from a few feet away.
He walked over to it and picked up the phone.
Sal couldn’t hear clearly who he was talking to except for a few mumbles.
After a brief exchange over the phone, he glanced her way, a smile already forming as he ended the call.
“Baron’s looking for me,” he said. “I need to give a speech, and then there’s some dancing afterward.”
“You go ahead. I’ll freshen up and see you in time for your speech,” she said, realizing her makeup must’ve been ruined. “All right. I’ll find you in the crowd,” he said, guiding her to the door. He lifted her hand for a brief kiss, then buttoned his vest as he disappeared down the hall.
***
Sal made her way to the old session hall’s upper balcony, catching sight of Harmon on the dais below. It was time for his opening speech.
They had retrofitted the grand hall with its soaring ceiling into a beautiful ballroom where guests could mingle and appreciate the mural of Carlos Francisco’s “Filipino Struggles Through History.” If any of the artgoers preferred to see curated paintings from other global artists, they could view the art pieces on the balcony gallery.
The second-floor balcony wrapped around the hall, its railings and balustrades allowing onlookers to peer down at the dancers and guests mingling below.
The way Harmon revitalized the museum, all while maintaining its original essence, was impressive and admittedly on a whole other level from what she was used to.
Sal stood on the balcony, watching him eagerly as the lights dimmed and Harmon’s tall, handsome figure commanded everyone’s presence.