7
Vivienne
“Any other damage?” Dan, the from the fire crew asks. His eyes haven’t left my breasts, and I shake my head.
What is it with men and breasts?
“Just every piece in the room,” I tell him for the third time since we began our walkthrough. It’s true. Every piece hanging on the walls suffers damage from the sprinkler system, and Jeffery is nowhere to be found.
The show featured a group of local artists, a group I’ve been fighting to have in the gallery since I became Jeffery’s assistant. I share the position with Christine, the nervous mess I sent home when the fire department arrived. She was on the verge of a mental breakdown; the stress of everything was too much for her, so I’m left to deal with everything on my own. Even finding a ride. She picked me up this afternoon to help cover my real reason for not coming in this morning.
Jeffery is going to kill me.
“Right,” Dan murmurs, pretending to write what I said down on the notepad in his hand. “I’ll need you to make a detailed list for our report and your insurance information.”
“Information regarding the artwork featured tonight and the artists, I can give you that information, but the rest you will have to get from my boss, Jeffery Astor.” I cross my arms against my chest but quickly unfold them as I watch his eyes widen at the movement.
“Do you have a number we can use to reach your boss?”
“As I said earlier, I’ve already given you that information.” I take a deep breath. “If you’d stop staring at my breasts and pay attention to the words coming from my mouth, we’d be done here, and I could stop repeating myself.”
Dan’s eyes move from my breasts to my face, widening with the action. I didn’t want to call him out, but I’m over being ogled for the night. His mouth flops open, like he’s going to respond, but he ultimately closes it without saying anything. It’s pointless to deny what he was so blatantly doing.
“Are we done here?” I cock out a hip, ready to lock up for the night, and head home to kick off my shoes. I’ve been running since I got here at noon. Every time things started running smoothly, Jeffery would throw a wrench into the mix, essentially fucking it all up again.
Dan nods, and I turn and walk away, heading toward the main office. I need to try calling Jeffery again, and if I’m unable to reach him, I have to call Mr. Thompson, the gallery owner.
“Vivienne.” The voice causes my aching feet to stutter in their step, and I almost slip on the wet floor. I turn my head, catching sight of him, and for the first time since he dropped me off this morning, the world quiets.
Wade.
I turn course and walk straight into his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asks, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I feel his fingers thread into my hair.
“I am now,” I whisper, burying my nose into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard the call on my police scanner and was worried about you,” he explains, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head. “Are you dealing with this alone?”
“Yes, but I was about to try calling Jeffery again. He was here earlier, before the shit hit the fan. I don’t know where he went.”
“Babe, he did this.” He pulls back and looks me square in the eye. “There are witnesses, and while a few details remain unclear, he’s the culprit behind all of this.”
“Why would he do that?” I ask, truly disbelieving the words coming from his mouth. “It couldn’t have been Jeffery. It doesn’t make any sense. He knows what was riding on this night being a success.”
“Your success.”
Those two words turn my world upside down. He’s right.
This showing wasn’t about how well Jeffery could handle things. It was about me and how well I dealt with it all. It wasn’t Jeffery’s idea to give me this event. It was Mr. Thompson’s, and a promise he made when I first interviewed and he learned how close I was to graduation. This event was a sort of a graduation gift.
“I need to call Mr. Thompson.” I step out of his embrace and walk into the office. “I need to tell him what’s happened. Maybe he knows how to reach Jeffery.”
“I doubt it. Besides, Jeffery is going to face some legal issues when we find him. If we find him.”
“If?” I sit in the large black executive chair and pick up the phone to dial Mr. Thompson.
“He knew what he was doing. What he was risking. There’s a hefty fine for setting off the sprinkler system and pulling the fire alarm.” He sits in the chair across from me and waits. “He could even face charges.”
“Damn, that’s heavy.”
“It’s nothing compared to the damage he’s caused tonight,” he states, leaving me a little shocked that he noticed the damage, but Dan still didn’t understand even after the third time telling him. “Why don’t you let me call your boss while you gather your things?”
“Wade, I can’t leave the gallery like this. Everyone’s artwork—”
“Let Mr. Thompson deal with this shit. You’ve done more than enough tonight, and the insurance won’t speak with you anyway.” I glance down at the phone, tempted to hand it over to him and let him make the call, but it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.
“It will only take a few minutes. We have a crew I can call to come in and clean up the water mess, but you’re right about the insurance company. Mr. Thompson can deal with the whole Jeffery situation himself.” I begin to dial the number I’ve memorized over the last few months. Looking into Wade’s eyes, I say the words, because I feel guilty for what’s transpired tonight. “I’m sorry about dinner.”
Clark Thompson picks up the line after only one ring, making it impossible for Wade to respond. Instead, he sits and waits patiently for me fill Mr. Thompson in on tonight’s events. And at the end of it all, I’m more than ready to call it a night.
But I have a feeling that if Wade gets his way, I won’t be going home tonight.
*****
Wade got his way.
I’m too exhausted to put up much of a fight for my own bed. As good as it sounds, Wade’s sounds better. Still feeling the effects of my hangover, I try to ignore the way my head throbs and my body aches.
“Are you hungry?” Wade asks, opening the door to his ranch-style home. I move past him, kicking off my heels the moment I clear the threshold.
“No, not really,” I respond, wiggling my toes at him. “Do you know how good it feels to kick those fucking shoes off?”
He answers me with a chuckle, and I follow him into the kitchen. He pulls a bottle of Jack from the cupboard and offers me a glass. My stomach rolls, warning me against it. I shake my head, and he smiles knowingly.
“I hate to be a buzzkill, but I really want sleep.” I slouch my shoulders forward. My body is winding down to sleep mode. I’m not sure if Wade had other plans for us tonight, but after the day I’ve had, I’m likely going to repeat last night and pass out face first on the bed.
It was sometime after two in the morning when I finally locked the gallery up. The cleaning crew had been by and did their magic. Whatever artwork hadn’t been destroyed, I carefully catalogued while waiting for the crew to finish.
Wade stood beside me every step, patient and protective. He understood the responsibility I felt for the artwork, and he did what he could to help me process every piece.
His steel eyes watch me standing barefoot in the middle of the kitchen before he crosses the room to me and gently lifts me up into his arms.
At first, I’m shocked, maybe even a little speechless, but I get over it quickly because I’m not light by any standard.
“Wade, put me down. You’re going to hurt yourself,” I exclaim, slapping at his chest to put me down. But he doesn’t. He carries me into his room, where he sets me back down on my feet.
“If I ever hear you say those words to me again, so help me, woman, I will take you over my knee and tan that sweet ass of yours.” My body quivers for the first time tonight. His words awaken something in me I can’t quite explain. The thought of him spanking my ass should leave me feeling outraged, but it doesn’t. Instead, I can’t help thinking of things to say to make it happen.
He chuckles—the sound of my quick breathing gives me away—and crosses to the dresser, pulling out a large T-shirt. He hands it to me and points me in the direction of the bathroom. “Go. Change. Before I change my mind and strip you myself before having my way with you.”
Shit, another idea to think about.
No, Viv, you need to sleep. I do need sleep.
But now I need him.