Chapter Thirty-One
Sydney
“Are you sure I look okay?”
Frankie let out a frustrated sigh. “Sydney, I’ve told you a thousand times, you look beautiful.”
I wanted to believe her, but I was so damn nervous. I’d been to this gallery before, but the anxious feeling never let up. I examined myself in Frankie’s closet mirror. I knew your toughest critiques come from yourself, and I tried to convince myself that was the problem.
My dress was pretty. It was a deep red color that matched my skin tone perfectly. It was sleeveless and tight around the waist, and tapered off around my knees. My wedges were tan and matched the thin bracelet that hung from my wrist.
“I’m just really nervous,” I said, mostly to myself, never looking away from the mirror.
Frankie walked over, placed her hands on my shoulders and smiled at me in the mirror. “I know you are, and there is no reason for you to be. You’re going to do great, just like last year. Believe in yourself, a little, Sydney.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not going to have your life’s work up for everyone to judge. And by snobby, rich people at that.”
Frankie rolled her eyes. “No, but at least we get a fancy meal. Correction, a free fancy meal. I can already taste the lobster.”
“True,” I said, smiling. “I guess we need to go ahead and go. Mr. Scott said to meet him in fifteen minutes.”
“I hope he isn’t wearin’ one of those Hawaiian shirts like last year.”
I grabbed my clutch. “Don’t worry, he isn’t. I told him if he shows up in anything other than a tux, I was going to deny that I knew him all night.”
Frankie straightened the strap on her top and adjusted the matching skirt. She had one of those skinny, long, perfect bodies, and was totally rocking one of those Taylor Swift top and skirt outfits.
Frankie and I decided to take a cab to the gallery downtown. At least this way we didn’t have to worry about parking, and driving in our shoes. The lights were bright from the outside; an usher welcomed us with a large smile. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, leading the way toward the huge conference room that had been made into our auction and dining room for the night.
I searched the tables for our names, looking beyond the building sea of people around us. I saw the back of Mr. Scott’s head first. “Looks like he took my advice,” I leaned in and whispered to Frankie.
Frankie glanced over at him but stopped in her tracks. “That’s yours, isn’t it?”
I glanced at the stage where my most recent painting sat. It was more detailed than my other work that was displayed, and even more than the year before. The dark colors swirled together in what I could only describe as my life, but in the center were his eyes. Those gorgeous green eyes that I stared into for so many days.
“It’s beautiful, Sydney,” Frankie whispered.
I tucked a curl behind my ear and gently elbowed her. “It’s just a paintin’. Come on and let’s sit down, people are starting to stare.”
We took our seats with Mr. Scott, and my nerves immediately diminished. People made their way to our table, introducing themselves and asking which paintings where mine. Most of the artists made their way around, chatting with the guests, but it wasn’t my style. I couldn’t work up the nerve to speak to them, or make them damn butterflies in my stomach subside.
The guest speaker, an artist from New York, took her place on stage and informed everyone that our food was about to be served. Frankie rubbed her hands together, and I had to stop myself from laughing out loud.
I shrugged my hair from my shoulder, and two figures emerging from the doors caught my attention. They were making their way across the room, walking like they were on a damn yacht. Asher was speaking to a bunch of people I’d never seen before, but it was Cash I couldn’t stop looking at. His eyes roamed the room, and I knew he was looking for me because his face told it all. And when those perfect eyes landed on mine, my entire body was engulfed in heat.
“Frankie,” I whispered, but she eyed the waiter as he poured her a glass of champagne. “Frankie!” I snapped.
“Jeez,” she whispered. “What is—Jesus Christ. What are they doin’ here?”
Mr. Scott looked over his glasses at us and followed our narrowed eyes. “Well,” he whispered. “Doesn’t this make things interesting.”
“No,” I said. “It doesn’t.”
He lifted a brow and did a grand job of hiding his smile behind his glass. I couldn’t stop staring at Cash. It was like a bad accident in the middle of the street. You want to look away from the horrific scene, but your eyes won’t budge.
Cash licked his lower lip slowly, his Adam’s apple bobbed low in his throat as he swallowed. I hated that my thighs clenched and my panties dampened at the movement. He did not turn me on, and I did not like him.
Not anymore, at least.
“Look away,” Frankie whispered to me. “Look away.”
I couldn’t help the smile on my face and turned to laugh at her. “It’s like a train wreck, right?”
Frankie took an exaggerated sip out of her glass. “It is. Did you see the way they waltzed in here?”
“How could I not notice? They walked in like they own the damn place, which it wouldn’t surprise me if they did.”
The waiters started bringing out our salads, but my stomach was in knots. How in the hell was I supposed to eat with Cash staring at me from across the room? It was a direct path from his table to ours. I tried not to think about how relaxed he looked in his suit, one hand resting on the back of Asher’s chair, the other one gripping his glass tightly.
I’d already downed all of my champagne, and with a small smile, a waiter refilled it quickly. Jesus, alcohol would not make this evening any better. I’d have to associate with more people later, and stand when they announced my name.
Falling over my chair wasn’t in the cards for tonight.
Neither was The Jenkins Brothers showing up, but I guess they didn’t get the memo.
Frankie giggled next to me. “You better slow down on the champagne, Sydney. Here, drink some water.” She shoved her glass of water toward me, and I eagerly gulped it down.
Our speaker for the night knocked her finger against the microphone to draw our attention. Thirty minutes later, I couldn’t tell you what she’d talked about or even if she was still talking.
My attention had been forced on my food, which was great, and my failed attempt to avoid the man across the room. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I whispered, feeling the champagne that weighed down my legs.
Frankie eyed Mr. Scott, who offered me his hand. “Do you want one of us to walk with you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “No, I don’t. It’s right down the hall. I’ll be right back.” I ignored their looks and made my way out of the dining room and toward the hallway to the right.
The wide bathroom doors opened into a huge bathroom. The attendant gave me a smile as I stumbled toward the stall to relieve myself. I sighed and rested my head against the side of the stall. The bathroom door opened as I finished up and made my way to the sink.
The attendant from earlier wasn’t standing in her place by the sink. I guessed it was break time. I turned the crystal knob on the sink and began to wash my hands when I noticed someone in the mirror behind me.
I jumped, water splashing against the marble sink, and my wet hands catching the counter.
Cash stood by the wooden door, one hand locking the door and the other shoved casually into his pocket. You’re So Vain started playing in my head, and it took everything in me not to belt it out like Kate Hudson in that movie.
“And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re in here, right?” I asked, trying to regain my composure by turning the sink off and drying my hands. “Walkin’ in the girl’s bathroom. Ha! I’m not even shocked. Cash Jenkins can do anything he wants because he’s Cash Jenkins, right?” I tossed my hands in the air.
Cash lifted his dark brow while slowly examining me head to toe. It used to make me tingle in the right places—hell it still did, but it pissed me off too. “Stop that,” I snapped.
“Stop what?” he asked casually.
“And get out of here. Where did that girl go? I’m sure you paid her off, right? To leave?”
The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.
“Well, that isn’t surprising. You love money, don’t you?”
Cash stepped in front of the locked door, towering over me, his light eyes daring me to look the other way. “We need to talk.”
Oh Lord, here we go again. “We don’t need to do anything. Why are you even here? Could you make this night anymore nerve-racking for me than it already is, Cash? This is important, and you’re here to fuck it up.”
He closed his eyes but opened them quickly. “I’m not leavin’ this damn bathroom until we talk. You have no other choice. I’m tired of being ignored. I know I fucked up!” he screamed, his hands reached out to grab my shoulders and drag me to him. “But dammit, Sydney, you’ve got to believe me. I love you, and I’m sorry.”
Tears pooled in my eyes, and my teeth clamped together. “I want to believe you, but I just—can’t. How can I? You knew how I felt about relationships before this, and you still made the deal. You still went on with it. At least I know I’m worth at least a million. I’m sure other girls have been bet on for less.”
A horrified look crossed his face. “Sydney, you’re worth more than money to me. I didn’t know you at first. I do now, and I love you. You’ve got to understand. You’ve got to forgive me.”
I snatched my arm away from him. Fool me once, shame on you …
“I don’t have to do anything but be me and die. Now get out of my way. I made it perfectly clear in Dallas that I did not want anything to do with you. Not anymore at least. The only thing you need to hear from me is a thank you for shipping the rest of my things home. I appreciate it,” I said.
“Sydney, please, listen—”
Someone’s fist pounded on the bathroom door. “Sydney, get out here now!”
I shoved past Cash and jerked opened the door. Frankie stood wide-eyed, staring at Cash behind me. “O-kay. I’m not going to ask. They are starting the biddin’.”
“Yes, don’t ask,” I mumbled, starting past her. I was stopped by Asher casually walking toward us. “Jesus Christ.”
Frankie made a sound mixed between a growl and a scoff.
“It’s lovely to see you too,” he said, a smile wide across his face.
“Oh, everyone, stop what they’re doin’. Asher is here. Is there a mirror somewhere?” She looked over her shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll want to look at himself.”
Asher’s grin only widened. “I checked on my way over here, no need.”
Frankie’s face turned a terrible shade of red. I could only imagine it was the same color that blinded her eyes at the moment. “Okay,” I said. “I need to go.”
I started toward the dining hall. “We’re not finished,” Cash said behind me.
I didn’t bother looking back; it would only hurt to see his face.
The room was in full swing when we made it back to our table. Mr. Scott gave us a look but didn’t comment. The artist before me smiled ear-to-ear at his table as two admirers auctioned over his piece.
Nerves ate away at my stomach, and I was thankful I had eaten most of my plate. “Sydney Henry.”
My skin crawled as I stood to give a small wave toward the crowded room before quickly sitting down. “This is an untitled piece of work by our lovely Princess of Henry’s Hunting World.”
I tried my best to hide my eye roll. They had to put that in there, didn’t they? “We’ll start the biddin’ at one hundred.”
I didn’t look out at the audience. It made me too nervous to see the people that were judging my work.
“We’ve got one hundred. Do we have a thousand? We have a thousand.”
“Twenty thousand,” someone shouted. My neck nearly broke at the attempt to see who it was, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Asher stood with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Twenty-five,” someone said. Frankie kicked me underneath the table. It was a couple that had bought my painting the year before. Pride swelled in my heart, even though Asher was one of the bidders.
Asher chuckled, causing the room to gawk at him. “Thirty thousand,” he said.
The couple looked at each other, debating, and I felt my stomach drop. I couldn’t help but glance at Cash, who watched me closely from beside Asher. The damn bastard had his brother do all of his dirty work. I clenched my napkin in my hand, wishing it were a baseball I could chunk at him.
“Thirty thousand going once.”
I squeezed the napkin tighter. My entire face felt like it had been engulfed in flames. “Going twice.”
A scream let out in my head.
“Sold to Asher Jenkins.”
Asher gave the audience a satisfied salute and took his seat. Thirty thousand dollars was more than I could have hoped for any of my paintings. It would help me live a comfortable life for a while as I continued to work at the gallery downtown. But knowing that it was from them—I wasn’t sure I could accept it.
How could I? I’d already stooped to take the last bit of money to paint their office in Dallas. I didn’t want any more money from him. Frankie must have sensed my aggravation and grabbed my hand underneath the table. “It’s almost over,” she whispered to me.
I nodded thoughtlessly, staring at the fancy tablecloth. I’d been in situations like this before, but not over money. Should I go home with him knowing that I’d regret it in the morning? Should I take the money I desperately needed knowing that it was from him?
They started the bidding for the last painting and my head felt like it would explode. Cash’s stare hadn’t let up since they bought my painting. I hated the feeling of longing those green eyes gave me. Wanting him this bad felt like wanting a drug that I knew I shouldn’t crave.
My thighs tightened underneath the table as his eyes lowered to my neck, and to the dip in my dress. I swallowed the parched feeling in my mouth and held back my urge to blink, knowing a tear would fall.
I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone in my life. I’d never loved a man before Cash Jenkins, but loving him felt like drowning in life. You don’t know whether you’ll make it out alive, and the bad part was that drowning almost seemed worth it.