Chapter 16
“I’ve never seen you nervous like this,” I said to Dacre, only half teasing as I fixed the collar on his button-down shirt.
We were standing in the back room of the gallery space, with caterers and wait staff rushing around us. Guests had already started gathering in the main space.
“I’ve never had a reason to be this nervous,” he said, his jaw tightening with the feeling.
I fought a smile, loving this vulnerable side to him.
“You don’t have a reason to be nervous now. Your art is a part of you, and it’s incredible. The world deserves to see it.”
Some of the tension left his shoulders, and he took my hand, leading me to a secluded spot behind a tall trolley of catering trays.
His hands cupped my jaw. “If I forget to say it later, thank you.”
Before I could respond, his lips were on mine, soft and caressing and turning my knees weak.
When he pulled back, I was a little dazed. “You don’t need to thank me, but if you want to do that again once we get home later, I won’t object.”
He let out a soft chuckle.
“Dempsey!” Arena called into the back area. “Jesus, where is this woman? She should take up hide and seek as a profession, she’d kill it.”
“I’m right here,” I said through a laugh, strolling back out with Dacre following behind me.
Arena’s face lit up at the sight of him. “The man of the hour!”
Dacre’s jaw clenched with tension again, and I shushed her.
“It’s supposed to be a secret. So far you suck at keeping it quiet,” I teased.
She pulled a chastised face that was so comical I couldn’t help my laugh.
Dacre took her hand, giving it a squeeze before letting go. “Thank you for pulling all this together. I appreciate it.”
I didn’t miss the way Arena blushed at his gratitude, and she waved away the compliment. “Oh, it’s nothing. And it wasn’t all me; your stepsister played a big role.”
Dacre shot me a look that promised a whole lot of heat when we got home.
Arena clapped her hands together. “Now, we need to get out there. The staff at the desk are willing and able to take payments for any pieces that might like to be purchased. You just keep a low profile, Dacre, so we don’t reveal your secret.
” She paused, her tone gentling. “But make sure you enjoy this too. This is a huge moment for you.”
He swallowed against the trepidation I knew he was feeling, nodding.
“I’ll try. But I don’t think we need to worry about taking payments. I don’t think it’s going to come to that.”
A look of confusion crossed Arena’s face. “What do you mean? We’ve sold two of the nine pieces already and the guests have only been here for twenty minutes!”
Dacre’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re kidding…”
Arena shook her head, snagging a glass of champagne from a passing waiter heading back into the event space and taking a sip. “I never kid about money,” she said, swallowing.
I grinned at Dacre. “I’m not above saying I told you so.”
He huffed a laugh and I followed the two of them out into the gallery.
The space was packed, with people milling around each painting, but still with room to move around. Each piece Dacre had completed for the showing was lit with gorgeous overhead lighting highlighting the works to their full potential.
“Arena, you’ve outdone yourself. This looks incredible.”
It was true. She’d taken a boring, industrial space and given it warmth and life with the lighting, the furnishings, and even the way she’d displayed Dacre’s works.
They were the hero in every section of the room, so that you couldn’t help but gravitate towards them when you drew near. It was genius.
“Given I want to start my own events company and eventually become the number one event planner in the country once I graduate CCU, you’d hope I was at least half decent at these things.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to play it cool, but I could see right through her. She cared about whether the event was a success, not only for Dacre, but for herself too.
“You’re more than half decent at it,” Dacre said.
I nodded. “What he said.”
“Oh shush.” She shooed us away. “Go enjoy yourselves. Especially you, Dacre.”
She wandered off, no doubt to boss someone around, and I turned to Dacre.
“We should probably go mingle with people other than each other.”
“I guess we should.”
Neither of us moved though. This night was huge for him, and I so desperately wanted to spend it by his side.
“I’ll check back in with you soon, okay?”
I nodded, and he cut through the crowd towards some of his friends from CCU.
I searched the crowd for Arena again, hoping to have a celebratory drink together, but she was nowhere in sight. I was about to approach a trio of girls from school when my gaze snagged on a sight that made my stomach drop to my three-thousand dollar designer shoes.
Sinclair was across the room, talking with a group of people… with Veda hanging off his arm. She looked incredible in a silver, sparkling mini dress and matching makeup that made her eyes shine, but she was holding onto a man who didn’t belong to her anymore.
Emotion swelled in my chest so hard and fast, I became hard to swallow.
Sinclair laughed at something Veda said to the couple in front of them, who I assumed were her parents, and the sight of his handsome face lit up like that only made the feeling worse.
I absently rubbed at my chest, knowing I should look away before I drew attention to myself, but I couldn’t force myself to do it.
Was he still with her?
He’d told me months ago that their relationship wasn’t real and never had been, but it still didn’t stop the possessive fire that burned inside me hot and fierce. He’d never expressly said that he’d ended it with her, but I’d assumed given we were together now that it was over with her.
He glanced up, his gaze catching mine, his head tilting ever so slightly at whatever expression he read on my face.
Was that regret in his eyes? Regret that I’d found out this way that he was still participating in his fake relationship with one of the most beautiful women in Cape Canyon or regret that I’d found out at all?
He’d been fucking me in his office, and on a plane, and anywhere else we could steal five minutes alone, and yet he was still parading her around on his arm at events.
Veda patted his shoulder as she spoke, pulling his attention from me. I pivoted on my heel and pushed through the crowd, desperately fighting against the tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I would not fucking cry here. This was so stupid.
Making my way to the bar, I ordered a double gin and tonic to try to stem the burning fire in my chest at seeing Sinclair and Veda together.
Why had I assumed that things had ended between them? He’d told me the truth about their relationship, but not once at any point had he said that it was actually over with her.
The bartender made the cocktail and slid it my way, and relief flooded me at the impending numbness the alcohol would give me. Only for a hand to snake around me and snatch that sweet relief away from me, handing it back to the bartender.
“She’ll have a glass of champagne, thank you,” my mother said, her tone leaving no room for argument from either me or the bartender.
I ground my teeth together, spinning to face her. “Not even allowed to order my own drinks now, Mother?”
I was not remotely in the mood for her bullshit in this moment.
“Not when it’s hard liquor and we’re at an incredibly important event.” Her eyes roamed my outfit as she spoke to me. “That isn’t the dress I laid out for you.”
I snorted at her astute observation. “No, it isn’t. Because I’m a grown woman and can select my own clothing.”
She shook her head like I was a toddler throwing an inconvenient tantrum. “Dempsey, you’re held to a higher standard as an Aston than you ever were as a Falconer. You have to dress appropriately. This event is important to Byron, he’s a great patron of the arts.”
I couldn’t hold back another snort at both the irony and hypocrisy of that statement.
Byron might support the arts publicly because it made him look good as a billionaire to support struggling artists, but behind closed doors he turned his nose up at it and forbade his own son from participating in it. The man was a fraud.
As though thoughts of the demon himself summoned him, Byron appeared at my mother’s side, highly agitated.
“Sweetheart,” my mother cooed, placing a placating hand on his arm. “What’s happened?”
“I want to speak to whoever is running this event.”
My mother looked bewildered. “Whatever for?”
Byron sucked in a breath through his nose.
“I just tried to purchase the last piece available as a gift for you, my darling.” He gave my mother an adoring look that made me want to gag while she preened at the attention.
“But they informed me that all the pieces had already been purchased, the last piece just moments before I’d enquired. ”
My eyebrows shot up, surprise flooding me. “Wait… everything is sold? The event has only been going for less than an hour.”
And Dacre had sold all nine pieces, some of them with the very hefty six-figure price tags Arena and I had slapped on them knowing this crowd could afford it.
Byron frowned at me. “I’m aware how long we’ve been here, Dempsey.”
I shrugged. “You should have made your purchase earlier to avoid missing out then.”
Byron’s agitated gaze swept over me. The man hated to be beaten at anything and today he’d lost out hard. “I offered them three times what they were asking for.”
I pressed my lips together at the poetic justice of this situation. Not only had Byron tried to buy a piece of the art he hated Dacre creating, but he’d offered three times as much money for it and still been knocked back.
“And they wouldn’t let you?” My mother appeared scandalized that anyone would dare prohibit Byron from doing anything.
“They told me the artist had declined my offer.”
Pride swelled in my chest. Dacre had known his father was trying to buy one of his pieces and rejected him.