Chapter 16 #2
“Sweetheart, you need to speak to whoever is in charge immediately. Clearly the artist isn’t in their right mind. They might be high on paint fumes or something and don’t understand good sense,” my mother said, entirely seriously.
I screwed up my face. “Are you kidding me, Mother? Maybe the artist is perfectly rational, and they just didn’t want Byron owning one of their pieces.”
She looked at me, bewildered and unable to compute the words I’d just uttered. “It would be an honor for them to have their works hanging in Aston Manor. Why wouldn’t they want Byron to own one?”
She said ‘Aston Manor’ as though it were Disneyland and a NASA space station combined.
“Because I’m the artist,” Dacre said, appearing at my side.
Byron’s eyes narrowed on his son, and my mother looked even more bewildered than before, which I didn’t think possible.
“I created that painting you were trying to buy, Dad. And it’s not for sale to you.”
Byron sucked a breath through his nose, clearly trying to calm himself lest he cause a scene.
“You’ve never supported me in my art, you’ve actively discouraged it.
Never once have you taken an interest in it or visited me in the studio space I set up in spite of your protests.
So I’m sure as hell not going to let you pretend to be interested in it now when it’s some kind of pissing contest to one up your friends and come out the victor. ”
I wanted so desperately to slip my hand in his. To reassure him that I was here, and I backed him in every word. And that I was proud of him.
Byron had tried to crush Dacre’s creative heart. And he’d almost succeeded.
“My art isn’t for sale to you. And it never will be.”
He moved around Byron without waiting for a response.
“And Arena and I are the ones in charge of this event, so there’s no point complaining to either of us, because we don’t give a damn.
” I went to walk off and stopped myself.
“Oh, and the story of Byron Aston’s son’s sellout art show has been given to the media by Kesia.
So, you’re welcome for making you look good with your future constituents, Byron. ”
I threw a pointed look at him and my mother, one that I hoped conveyed what assholes I thought they both were. Then I followed after Dacre.
The pride I felt for him in this moment was something else. And I couldn’t wait to celebrate with him. Only when I searched for him, I couldn’t find him anywhere.
Instead I found Sinclair again. He was across the room with Veda, because of course he was still with her.
But this time they were with a group of their friends, the same ones they’d been with at my mother’s wedding to Byron.
Longing seared through me this time, a deep ache I’d never be able to publicly be on his arm like she was.
That I’d never be able to be with any of them out in the open, on their arm, showing the whole world they were mine.
Sinclair spotted me, extricating himself from Veda and starting in my direction. I pivoted abruptly, unwilling to have any kind of confrontation with him about this right now.
Presley intercepted me on my way to the front doors with an arm across my waist, and I prayed nobody was paying too close attention to the touch, because I needed it right now. Needed him.
“You okay, Sass?”
I glanced behind me to where Sinclair was threading through the crowd, and Presley followed my gaze. He pressed his lips together ruefully. “He should have told you, not let you see him with her like this.”
My chin dropped to my chest, and I sucked in a breath. He gave my hip a reassuring squeeze and released me, pulling the door open for me so I could slip out.
The night air brushed my skin, and I took several deep breaths in an effort to pull myself together. We’d been here roughly an hour and already so much had gone down tonight, I didn’t know how to fucking feel at this point.
I hugged my arms to my chest, pacing back and forth at the front of the gallery.
“Dempsey…” Sinclair said, hurrying out the door and out onto the street. “We need to talk.”
I held up a hand. “No, we don’t. Not right now, and not here.”
His expression pinched at the corners, and I could have sworn that was pleading in his eyes. “It’s not what you think, you know it isn’t.”
I scoffed. “I think you’re still with her, that’s what I think.”
Sinclair glanced up and down the street, stepping closer to me and trying to reach for me, but I stepped away. “I am still with her.”
“Great.” I pressed my lips together in an effort to convey just how not great I thought that situation was.
“You know there’s nothing going on between us. She’s a friend. You know the situation.”
“So, what? This fake relationship just goes on forever? Will you fake propose to her in six months just to really sell it? Where does it end, Sinclair? How do you expect me to feel about this?”
His jaw tightened. “I expect you to be reasonable about it.”
I reared back at that. “Excuse me?”
He moved closer, his tone dropping low. “You’re in a relationship with me, while also being in one with both of my brothers, and I’ve never questioned you about that, because I respect you and your choices.
This is a choice I made before I even knew you, it’s not one I’d ever make now.
” He stepped closer until our chests were almost touching and I had to tilt my head up to look at him.
“She’s a friend, Dempsey. And I’ve told her we have to end it, but we’ve been together this way for a long time, so that can’t happen instantly. ”
I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling appropriately chastised. None of them had ever questioned me about my connection with each of them, they’d accepted it and never made me feel bad about it. They’d respected my needs without hesitation.
Sinclair and Veda shared a connection too, and he had made a choice to protect her with their fake relationship. And while I might be jealous at seeing them still together after everything Sinclair and I now were to each other, I knew he was doing it in service of a friend.
His fists clenched at his sides, desperate to touch me but knowing he couldn’t. “You know you’re the one that I want,” he murmured quietly.
And I did know it. He made sure of it at every opportunity. He’d flown me to Milan simply because I said I’d like the boots there. There was nothing like a guy organizing international travel for you to show how much he cared.
I sighed. “I’m sorry for being a jealous brat.”
A smirk instantly crossed his face. “You’re always a brat.”
I pulled an indignant face, glancing across the street to avoid his eye because I knew he was right.
“You’re also hot as fuck when you’re jealous.”
My gaze snapped back to his, and the heat burning in his eyes had my stomach twisting with need.
“Not here,” I whispered.
He nodded once in agreement.
Later.
“I’m going back inside to get your coat and then we’re leaving. Dacre has sufficiently stuck it to Byron tonight, which means we can go home and start the real party.”
His gaze was filled with promise as he backed towards the door, heading inside.
I shook my head as he went, blowing out a long breath. It had been one hell of a night.
Tilting my head back, I stared up at the stars, wondering if there were people on other planets staring out at those glowing gas balls and questioning if their own lives were meant to be this chaotic all the fucking time.
“That was quite an altercation. Do you always back down that easily?” came a voice from my left. “I didn’t realize you were a submissive.”
My head snapped to the left to find Boston leaning against a blacked-out SUV.
I crossed my arms over my chest, surprised to see him even though I shouldn’t be. “Wow, you’ve gone from stalking to eavesdropping. You’re escalating.”
He almost smirked at that, pushing from the car and moving in my direction. My throat caught at the action, mostly from the terror I was so used to experiencing at the sight of him. It was a reflex at this point.
“What are you doing?” I demanded as he stopped a few feet from me.
Not so close we were touching, like when he’d defended me against Trent. But too close for comfort given I still wasn’t sure I could trust him not to toss me in his car and disappear with me.
“Talking to you. Is that allowed?” he asked, eyeing me with that penetrating stare of his.
“Didn’t realize you were such a yapper.”
His eyes pinched at the corners, and I felt a small sense of victory at making the violent nut job almost laugh.
He nodded towards the door Sinclair had just disappeared through. “Do you always back down with him like that?”
I glanced in that direction too, then back to Boston. “Only when I’m wrong.”
“What were you wrong about?”
“None of your business.”
He shook his head in disapproval. “You’re my wife, so I’d say your relationship with your boyfriends is absolutely my business.”
I sucked in a sharp breath at the admission.
It was highly likely he’d seen me with at least one of my stepbrothers doing something I shouldn’t in the weeks he’d been following me.
But when the four of us worked so hard to keep our relationships a secret, it was jarring to hear them referred to so casually on the street.
“Did you think I didn’t know?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but had no idea how.
“I knew it from the moment I turned up at Aston Manor and all three of them protected you. Men don’t do that unless they’re obsessed.”
I stared back at him. “You must have a lot of experience with obsession.”
I’d meant it as a jab, yet something in his expression softened for the briefest moment as he stared back at me.
Then just as fast it was gone.
“I never expected a firecracker like you to be the type to submit, though. That revelation has taken me by surprise.”
I screwed up my face. “Well, I’m so glad I could shock you.
” I paused, assessing him. “What is this?” I asked, thoroughly confused by the weird turn this interaction had taken.
“You defend me against a guy who’s a bigger fuck knuckle than you and suddenly you think we’ve gone from you terrorizing me and stalking my every move to gal pals who talk about our feelings and sexual proclivities? ”
His eyes darkened at that last part. “You can talk to me about those any time you like, Falconer.”
My jaw clenched at the use of my last name. My father’s name, not mine.
“That’s not my name.”
He tilted his head to the side. “You’re welcome to mine then, wife.”
I almost pulled a muscle in my rush to snort at that suggestion.
“I’d rather be tied to the bed and fucked for twenty-four hours straight than take the name Ivers.”
He let out a sound that could almost pass as a laugh, raising his hands and backing away towards his car. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Firecracker.”
He paused when he reached the driver’s side door to his car.
“After all, I’m your husband. It’s my job to meet your needs.”
The way he said needs was loaded with heat, and my stomach tightened at the suggestion.
He climbed into the car, gunning the engine and leaving me thoroughly confused on what the hell had just happened.
Somehow Boston Ivers had gone from a terrifying monster to an intriguing enigma.