The Naughty One: A Doctor’s Christmas Romance (Season of Desire Book 2) by Michelle Love (12)

The man in the coffee shop, the man with a gorgeous woman putting her hands on him, was Weston!

Shock hit Aullie like a slap to the face. Sure, they’d only been on two dates, it wasn’t outlandish to think he may be seeing other people. The thought just hadn’t occurred to her. After all, he had been so committed to seeing her again.

She felt incredibly stupid. And how was she ever supposed to compete with a woman who looked like that? Aullie might’ve been confident enough in herself, but that woman was built like a goddess. How could any man deny someone so beautiful?

Aullie felt sick. She couldn’t seem to get her feet to move her away from this idyllic little scene that was causing so much pain in her chest.

The woman’s arms were crossed in front of her ample bosom, her face cast down toward the table. She seemed to be talking, but she was mostly turned away from Aullie.

When Weston rested his hand on her delicate forearm, Aullie lost it.

Any excuses she had made for him in her head went out the window with that one intimate gesture. She was done, totally and completely done with him. She waved with big, wide arm strokes, angrily trying for his attention.

‘I probably look like a crazy person’, she realized. She didn’t really care, though. Finally, after a couple seconds, he looked up. His face fell slightly, but he didn’t move.

Aullie flipped him the angriest middle finger she could manage and stalked away. She turned the corner around the shop, her rage quickened her pace as she walked home.

Weston didn’t follow her and how she wished she didn’t care.

* * *

Chapter 1

The first thing Aullie did when she slammed her front door behind her, was to whip out her phone. She swiped the screen open with angry, shaking fingers and stabbed at buttons until she had pulled up Weston’s contact information. Scrolling to the bottom of the screen, she selected the ‘Block This Caller’ option.

A small notification window popped up, asking ‘Are you sure you want to block this caller? You will not receive phone calls, text messages or video chat requests from people on the blocked list.’

Yes, I’m sure! Aullie thought. I should’ve just done this a week ago, and saved myself from all this!

With one deep breath, Aullie exhaled any trepidations she felt about cutting him off completely and confirmed the block. She was so flustered, so hurt, so angry that she didn’t even know what to do with herself. How had she let some stupid guy define her self-worth?

She couldn’t believe her stupidity and naiveté. Of course, he was seeing other people. Aullie knew she shouldn’t care, that in all reality, their relationship was young and she would’ve been well within her rights to be seeing someone else as well.

It was the fact she had believed so easily that the sexy, charming billionaire was all hers after a week and a half. It was just as she had been fearing the entire time, they just weren’t on the same level and his choice in other women made it even clearer.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! She chastised herself.

Her jeans were suddenly too tight; she tore them off, feeling restless and irritable. Off came her sweatshirt and her bra too, her skin was hot and itchy and Aullie felt suffocated. She found a baggy, worn t-shirt her father had brought her as a souvenir from golf trips. The “Pebble Beach” print on the front was cracked with age and wear. Though she loathed and resented her father, the shirt had always been her security blanket in times of stress.

Maybe I should paint it out, Aullie thought, seeing her emotions as bursts of vivid color. Then, she smacked herself in the forehead. The whole reason she had left was to get the supplies she needed to paint, and she’d wound up flipping Weston the bird and storming home instead.

Now the stupid guy was interrupting her art, her dream!

Still flustered, she found her phone again and dialed Brittany. On the third ring, she answered and said, “Hey I was just about to call yo-”

Aullie cut her off. “I just saw Weston with someone else.”

“What?!” Brittany’s screech was so loud Aullie had to move the phone further from her ear.

“Yeah! I was walking by the coffee shop and there he was with some chick, all dolled up, touching his knees and stuff.”

“Jesus, really?” Brittany still sounded stunned. “I really didn’t see that coming. I thought you guys had a date yesterday. That’s why I was gonna call you, to see how it went.”

“Well, it went great, actually. Or so I thought.” Aullie paced restlessly around her apartment. “He took me to the museum for an ‘art lesson’ and we kissed and it was awesome, then I brought him back to my place because he said he wanted to see my art. He said he loved it all, we made out a little bit and probably would’ve gone further but he stopped and said he didn’t want it to be all about sex.”

“Well, that does sound great. What the hell is this guy’s problem?”

“It’s not his problem. It’s me. I should’ve known better. I mean, seriously, what waitress gets swept off her feet by some billionaire? Plus, we went on like two dates. It’s not like we’re married or anything. It’s not outrageous to think he’d be seeing other people,” Aullie could hear the exasperation and hurt in her own voice.

“I still just can’t believe it. He was so committed to seeing you again, you would think if there was another girl in the picture, he wouldn’t be quite so insistent. Damn girl, I’m sorry,” Brittany sympathized.

Unwelcome tears sprang into Aullie’s eyes. Her voice wavered as she said, “I can’t believe it either. I had really started to like that guy, Brit, even though it was fast. And you know I don’t get like that.”

“I know you don’t, sweetie. Has he said anything to you?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t know. I blocked him.”

“Damn,” Brittany seemed shocked or impressed, Aullie couldn’t tell. “You’re really pissed.”

Before Aullie could respond, there were three loud knocks on her front door that made her jump.

“Someone’s here,” she said quietly into the phone. “They just knocked.”

“Oh shit,” Brittany replied. “Is it him, do you think?”

“I don’t know. Let me call you back.”

Without saying goodbye, Aullie ended the call and set her phone on the counter. She began a mad dash to find pants, no matter who it was, she wasn’t answering the door in her underwear. Especially in chilly weather.

She settled on the jeans she had kicked off earlier, they were better than nothing and yanked them over her legs. Giving up on securing them, she let her long baggy shirt hang over the front to hide the open button and zipper. Two more knocks came through the wooden door, a little stronger and more urgent this time.

Damn, Aullie thought as she shuffled toward the door, steeling herself for the incoming anger if it was Weston and disappointment if it wasn’t.

Inhale. Exhale. She opened the door.

There he was, in all his golden-haired, golden-eyed glory. He almost didn’t look human; his poise, his grace, the flawless structure of his face wrapped in perfectly clear skin. His sad eyes did nothing to soften Aullie’s glare or her seething rage.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Let me explain…” he said before he was cut off.

“Look,” she said, putting her hands up in sarcastic defeat. “I really don’t care anymore. You’re totally entitled to see other people and that’s great, you bagged a real looker, but that’s not my style, ok?”

Aullie placed her hand on the door to close it. He began to say, “It’s not what it looks like,” but she never heard the end over the sound of the heavy door slamming hard in his face. His words still mumbled through, so she walked away. She had no interest in hearing what Weston had to say.

She could still hear him outside, he must be close to yelling now, so she snatched her phone off the counter and plugged it into a clunky, dated sound system she sometimes used when she was painting.

‘Sorry neighbors’, she thought before cranking up the volume and pressing shuffle.

Angry guitar chords ripped through the speakers, a tiny bit louder than she had expected, but it was perfect. Aullie didn’t have a set taste in music, she liked to collect music with different moods to ensure variety in her inspiration with painting. Though anger wasn’t her top choice of painting feelings, she was extra thankful for the music and the message it was hopefully sending Weston.

That is if he was even still out there. She couldn’t hear him anymore and that pleased her.

I’m done, she thought, blissfully as she flittered around her apartment, collecting mugs and tidying away dirty laundry to a chorus of gritty screams and manic drums. Absolutely done!

Aullie fell into a rhythm as she cleaned her apartment. She kept her music loud, but the soundtrack in her head was just a slamming door on repeat. Over and over, she replayed the sad little look on his face and the heavy thud that closed him off and hopefully pushed him out of her life.

The emotional drama was too much, it was bringing out something in her that she wasn’t comfortable with and she was happy to have him gone.

Good riddance!

At least that's what she told herself.

Chapter 2

An entire week passed. Each of her six shifts at work, Aullie panicked the entire night until it was over and there was no sign of Weston. She didn’t know if he had called or texted, she’d stayed strong and kept him blocked.

Truly, the time had been agonizing but every time she thought about talking to him and actually hearing him out, all she could see was that long swishy mane of strawberry blonde hair. That beautiful companion he’d had in the coffee shop. It was one thing to think he could do better than her and an entirely different thing to actually see it.

Thankful for a Tuesday off, it didn’t happen often, Aullie was preparing her things to go to school. There was an open studio and she felt like getting out of the apartment. Maybe the change of scenery would help her feel a little more inspired.

She loaded her heavy backpack into her car and drove there, thankfully, with no car incidents. The squealing had stopped and, even though it was probably a bad thing, she convinced herself that it was fine.

The trees were becoming bare, with the on-set of winter, even the last leaves clinging to the branches were brown and crunchy. The heater in Aullie’s Accord rattled, remedying the chilly interior with dry blasts of artificial hot air.

She took a deep breath and enjoyed the pleasant mood she was in. The first few days after she had slammed the door in Weston’s face, he’d been on her mind constantly, but as time passed she found herself thinking about him less and less. She missed him, sure, but she was happy to have her focus back on her art, where it belonged.

Aullie parked her car in the school lot, behind the small, boring brick buildings she did a fair portion of her creating in. She carried her backpack inside and swiped her student ID to open the studio door. The big, bright room had two walls of high windows which let in plenty of natural sun and several neat rows of fluorescents that clicked on with the motion sensor when she entered.

A scene constructed by one of the professors took up the center of the room, big swaths of colorful fabric draped over boards and boxes with an assortment of white objects on top like eggs and ceramic statues. A circle of dozens of paint-stained easels were cramped around the scene, all set at different angles. Aullie picked one at random; she liked her easels like she liked her men - tall and solid.

She began fiddling with the knobs, raising the tray to an appropriate height for the medium-sized canvas she had brought. She had thought she was alone, but once she was set up, another person came out of a small office tucked into the side wall and scared the crap out of her.

“Oh, hey! Aullie! Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was here. I was wondering why the lights were on.” It was her teacher’s assistant for her advanced oil painting class, Gerald Woodley.

He was only a few years older than her, about the same height, with thick black glasses and a full head of curly black hair. She could see how someone else could find him attractive, he had that sort of androgynous, hipster-like vibe that girls seemed to like, but he definitely wasn’t her type.

“Hey Gerald,” she said, still trying to slow her startled heart rate.

“I don’t usually see you on Tuesdays,” he said.

“Yeah, had a random night off work, so I just figured I’d get some painting in.”

“Well cool,” he said with a smile. “These are my office hours and it’s usually pretty dead in here. I’m glad you came in, though. I actually have a question for you.”

“What’s up?” she asked. What kind of question could he have for her?

“Well, a spot actually opened up in a gallery show that a friend of mine is heading up this weekend. They’ve got a pretty decent amount of wall space to cover, it’s mostly other abstract work and I thought of you.”

“Really?” Aullie asked, bewildered. She definitely hadn’t expected that.

“Yeah. I know your last show was a little... disappointing,” he said, with apologetic eyes. “So, I figured maybe you’d be up to giving it another shot. Do you think you’d be able to get a group of works together by then?”

“Yeah, totally,” she nodded enthusiastically, a smile breaking across her lips. “I’ll have to get my shift covered at work, but if I can, then yeah, count me in.”

“Cool,” he said with a grin. “If you give me your number, I’ll shoot you a text with the details later tonight.

Aullie unzipped her backpack and pulled out her sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. She scrawled her phone number on a blank corner and tore it out, handing it to Gerald. She thanked him again and he went back to his office, which Aullie was grateful for. She felt a new zeal, a refreshed excitement at knowing she was getting another shot.

She squeezed tubes, mixing colors and sloshing them all over the canvas. The work she did wouldn’t matter, she thought, there was no way it would be dry in time, but as the prism-esque rainbow came to life on the scratchy white surface she recognized that her groove was back. This opportunity had been exactly what she had needed to break her out of her painter’s-block funk.

The next two hours flew by. Once she had done everything she could, Aullie washed her brushes and her hands and packed up all her equipment. Paint still stained her fingers and forearms, probably her face and neck too like usual, but she didn't really mind. It wasn't like she was trying to impress anyone.

She waved at Gerald through the window, thankful again that he had thought of her for the show. “Is it cool if I leave that canvas here to dry a little? I can come pick it up when I have class tomorrow.”

“Yeah!” he replied. “I’ll move it into your cubby later when it’s a little drier.”

“Thanks!” Aullie said as she headed out the door.

As her car was revved up and homebound, she began to seriously think about the show. It was a big deal for Aullie and she needed to make sure she was putting her best foot forward. Not only with her art but with herself.

During her first show, she’d been nervous, and given that she was naturally pretty introverted, she had hung back on the walls and hadn’t spent as much time marketing herself as she probably should have.

Her little debacle with Weston was behind her and though she resented the entire ordeal, it had opened her eyes to some self-consciousness she hadn’t recognized before.

She was aware now that she wanted to succeed. She wanted to feel worthy of a successful man so that next time she found one, her own stupid insecurities wouldn’t get in the way.

Once she was home, it was go time. Aullie poured some coffee she had made that morning into a mug with a little bit of creamer from the fridge and nuked it in the microwave. As it made its roundabout way around the microwave, she looked her walls up and down, trying to channel her inner art critic or collector.

Most of her class projects, though she was proud of them, weren’t show material. It was hard with class stuff because everyone needs to learn the basics and therefore did similar things, so none of that work would stand out.

She had finally painted the deer she had drawn, his proud neck shrouded in beautiful flowers, the light tan of his textured fur stood out against the blueish background, it was definitely one of her better originals. Hopefully, it would be totally dry in time.

But what else?

Suddenly, she no longer felt optimistic but overwhelmed. There were so many choices, plus the stacks of paintings she kept in her closet because she had no wall space. Aullie had been painting for so long, there were too many options.

Though others respected and admired her work, she could see the tinier details in each and every painting; the mistakes, the layers and layers of paint to fix them, places where colors had run together, works that hadn’t quite stayed true to her original vision. Everywhere she looked, she found flaws, flaws, flaws! Her confidence nosedived hard.

What am I doing with my life?

Aullie seemed to be having these surges of doubt more and more often, lately. She had no business being in a show, she thought, she wasn’t ready.

Would she ever be ready? Was she destined to wait tables forever?

The microwave beeped, probably for the third or fourth time since Aullie’s coffee had finished reheating and she extracted the mug just to angrily slam the little door closed.

She took a sip, the coffee wasn’t even warm anymore, but she craved some kind of buzz. Some kind of explosion of clarity to help her take the necessary steps to becoming the person she wanted, or needed, to be.

Aullie’s eyes came to rest on the painting she had done after her first night out with Weston. She had added to it after their second date, vibrant swirls of white, lavender and powder blue thrived against the fiery fuchsia background. It was a beautiful painting, she had to admit, but there was no way she could include it in the show. Some part of her wanted to hold onto it; the only reminder she had left of the man who had made her feel again. The relationship may have crashed and burned but, be that as it may, she had felt things with him she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever.

The painting opened a sort of rabbit hole, one thought about Weston led to another and Aullie couldn’t help but feel as if she were tumbling down, down, down into the abyss of obsessive thought.

She looked at her phone. One little button push, that’s all it would take to unblock him. He had come over to explain himself, right? What if there was a valid explanation? What if there wasn’t?

She didn’t know if she could handle another emotional roller coaster with him; between work, school, and her being poor, she had more than enough to be worrying about. But the truth was, she had enjoyed the unexpected rush. And, like a junkie, she craved it again.

Aullie picked up her phone. She scrolled through to his contact page. Her thumb hovered over the ‘Unblock Caller’ button.

One phone call wouldn’t hurt. Just to hear what he has to say.

She set her phone down without unblocking the man, not allowing even a tiny opening for Weston to return to her life.

Just as she had every other time for the last week, which was roughly every few hours, Aullie talked herself out of it. The biggest thing holding her back was the feeling, deep in her gut, that the relationship was doomed.

Aullie envied the rich and famous almost as much as she loathed them, and Weston was one of the rich and famous. With his job and his heritage, it wasn’t like any of that was going to change.

Maybe Aullie would make it as an artist, maybe they’d at least be on closer levels one day, but maybe she wouldn’t. She had always sworn to herself that she would never become dependent on a man, and she wasn’t about to be some little failed artist looped on to some rich guy’s arm. No way in hell!

She did a pretty good job convincing herself that the beautiful other woman had nothing to do with it, too.

‘I’m done’, Aullie reminded herself. ‘I’m done, I’m done, I’m done’, she repeated it in her head like a mantra, each time with more and more conviction.

She thought of a saying she loved from one of her favorite yoga teachers; breathe in the positive: success, prosperity, confidence, and forgiveness, breathe out the negative: doubt, anger, spite, and jealousy. And Weston, she tacked onto the end of the exhale, with a coy smile.

She was going to breathe him out, she had to, and staring at his stupid painting wasn’t going to do her any favors. Aullie grabbed the painting from where it leaned against the legs of her old, wooden easel, probably not as gently as she would with another painting, and tossed it in the closet. It landed on its corner, leaning against the wall in the back under her coats.

Take that, Aullie thought, a little triumphantly. She closed the door a little too hard, reveling in this new sense of resolve. Out with the old, with the failure and insecurity, and in with the new, success and hopefully a relationship with an honest, more realistic man.

Someday, anyway.

Chapter 3

Thankfully, Aullie was able to get her shift covered at work, but Saturday found her in a manic frenzy. Gerald had forwarded her the information for the show and she had selected thirteen of the required fourteen pieces for the show and couldn’t for the life of her decide what the last one should be.

There were so many options, and yet there were no options. She only had three hours until she was supposed to be there to set up and, even though she technically had plenty, it felt as though she had no time at all.

‘How am I ever going to pick?’ Aullie thought anxiously. For probably the millionth time in the last five days she considered dropping out of the show. There had to be someone out there more driven, more prepared, or just plain better to take her spot, didn’t there?

No, Aullie clenched her fists at her sides. She was done doubting herself. Hunting around, she found her phone and found Gerald’s number. The phone rang three times before he answered with a curious, “Hello?”

“Hey Gerald, it’s Aullie.”

“Hey, Aullie!” he replied. “What’s up?” There were voices and bustling in the background of the call.

“You aren’t already at the show, are you?” she asked desperation, leaking into her voice. “I was wondering if you could come over to my place and help me pick the last piece for my collection. I’m kind of losin’ it over here. I can’t decide.”

“Yeah, I get that!” Gerald said, empathetically. “I’m already at the show, but I could stop by real quick. I’m not really needed here right now. Could you text me your address?”

“That would be super great. Yeah, I will, thanks.” Probably overeager, she hung the phone right up and was probably texting him the address as he was saying goodbye to thin air.

-U R close!- He typed back. -B there in 5-

People who texted that way drove Aullie nuts, but at least she’d finally get a legitimate opinion. The five minutes dragged on, it ended up being seven, as Aullie paced and paced around the thirteen paintings she had already chosen. Nerves and doubt had her wanting to tear out her hair, but she had already done it for the show so she resisted the urge.

When the knock came on the door, Aullie scrambled through the tiny apartment to answer it. She unlocked the door, feeling flustered, and smiled at Gerald standing on the other side. She smoothed the full skirt on her dress down with one hand and tucked her hair behind her ear with the other.

“Hey,” she said, breathlessly.

“Hey yourself,” Gerald remarked, a mix of impressed and surprised in his voice. “You look amazing.”

“Wh-? Oh! Yeah,” Aullie said self-consciously, looking down at the classic, vintage-cut dress she wore. The low shoulder accentuated her pale, birdlike collar bones, the wide A-line skirt showcased her narrow waist. The black silk and dark gothic rose print looked artfully edgy with her straightened long black hair. She hadn’t put on her shoes yet and her red-painted toenails were out and free. “Thanks. Come on in.”

“Thanks,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. He was dressed in his typical modern, nerdy-chic getup, just a bit classier; skinny-cut khaki colored trousers with striped socks and wing-tipped oxfords, a polka dotted button down and a structured navy blazer. With the thick black glasses, and the charcoal gray fedora capping his dark curls, she had to admit the look worked for him.

Aullie led him inside, pointing to the thirteen paintings laid out on her couch, table, chairs, and counter. “So, these are the ones I picked,” then she pointed to the others that were scattered everywhere else, including the open closet. “Those are all the other ones. I haven’t been able to decide and I figured since you’re experienced and good at this stuff, that you could help me.”

Gerald put a hand over his mouth as he stalked back and forth, surveying her choices. “I like these,” he said. “I like these a lot. What kind of mood are you trying to set here?”

“I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “Not crippling nerves and overwhelming self-doubt?”

Thankfully, he got the dry joke and laughed. “That’s ok, it’s totally normal for your first few shows.”

He turned and considered the other paintings, scattered like new fallen snow, with the same scrutiny. Aullie waited impatiently as he paced. Gerald stepped carefully through the mess into the closet.

What could he want in the closet? She thought. It wasn’t like she kept anything good in there, it was a closet.

Oh!

Oh no!

He came back, fingers fatefully wrapped around the wooden frame of the painting she had kicked into the closet several days ago. Weston’s painting.

Dammit!

“This is sensational,” he said, genuinely. “How could you be hiding this in your closet? You have to take this, it’s so… Alive.”

The word punched Aullie in the gut. Alive was how she had felt that night, but it didn’t matter now. “You really think I should use that one?” she asked, unsure.

“Absolutely.” He nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

There was a space between two paintings that fit Weston’s perfectly. Aullie had to admit that it completed her colorful collection pretty perfectly.

It’s a sign, she told herself. A sign that she really did need to cut the cord, and put the painting up for sale.

She took a step back, admiring the collection as a whole. Gerald was right, it was a perfect fit. She turned to thank him, but suddenly his mouth was against hers.

Alarm bells sounded in her head, his mouth felt cold, awkward and wrong. None of the emotion, none of the passion she’d felt with Weston was present, plus the creepy, unwelcome surprise was rigid and off-putting. He practically slobbered on her, his hands locked on the sides of her head. Aullie stumbled backward, away from him, and broke from his grasp.

“Gerald!” she yelped, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. “What the hell was that?”

“Aullie! I’m sorry,” he reached toward her until she batted his hands away. “I must’ve misread…”

“Misread what?” Aullie sputtered, steaming like a boiling kettle.

“Well you know, I hooked you up with this show, you invited me over…”

“You only hooked me up with this show because you thought I was going to sleep with you?!” Rage coursed through her veins.

How dare he! She should’ve known better, why else would he have been putting her up for a show outside the school like this?

Oh, how Aullie wanted to hit him. The pig!

“No!” he insisted. “No, no. I didn’t mean it that way at all. I’m sorry. I really am. You’re a great artist. I never meant to insinuate…”

“Insinuate that, oh, you just hoped I’d also screw you for the help?” She could feel the hot flush in her cheeks. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she was determined not to release them.

“I’m sorry I made you think that. I’ve liked you for a long time. I looked too far into things and I really am sorry. Do you need help getting your work to the show? Let me help, make it up to you. I’m sorry.”

His pleading eyes begged for her forgiveness. All she saw in his pitiful little face was weakness and disgust boiled in her stomach. As surprisingly as his gesture and confession had been, they definitely weren’t feelings Aullie shared.

Plus, all his kiss had really done was rub salt in the tender wounds Weston had left in her heart. Kissing Weston had been… unreal.

The stark reminder that she couldn’t just find that passion with someone else was depressing and disheartening. Her silence, probably coupled with the despairing look on her face, had Gerald looking desperate.

“I’m sorry, ok? I really am. You’re just such a good artist and you’re so pretty and…”

“Stop,” she said, sternly. “It’s fine. I’m just kind of going through a… breakup? I guess you could call it that. I don’t know. It’s not you or your fault, it’s just that my head and heart are with someone else.”

As she said the words, Aullie realized her heart really was still with Weston. Even though it had only been two dates, even though they were so different, even though she really hardly knew anything about the guy, she was hung up and she was hung up bad.

She looked again at the collection she had picked, how perfectly the bright, happy colors complemented Aullie’s mostly dark and aggressive collection.

‘Could he be doing the same thing for me?’ She wondered despairingly. Had she shut out the man who brought light and inspiration into her otherwise bleak and angst-ridden life?

“I understand,” Gerald said, nodding as though he truly did understand. “I’m sorry for overstepping my bounds, that was seriously uncool and I don’t think I can apologize enough.”

“Seriously,” Aullie said, growing exasperated and irritated with his constant apologies. “It’s fine. If you could help me take these to the show, that would be great. My poor little Accord probably can’t hold all of this.”

“Great,” Gerald finally exhaled, looking relieved that things seemed to have settled at least a little. “Do you want to take it now? We can go set it up now, so that everything’s organized and set up to your liking at the show.”

Aullie looked at her collection again, reflecting on all the hard work she had put into each and every painting. This was her life, her love, her dream. This was the face she was about to put forward to the world, specifically to a group of snooty critics and collectors.

They might not like what they see.

She didn’t care. “Yes,” Aullie said, standing up straight. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s pack ‘em up and take ‘em in.”

Gerald carefully picked up the two biggest canvases, a beige piece with splashes of black and red and a symbolic water-inspired piece she had done in every possible shade of blue, and carried them to the door. Aullie stacked a few smaller ones in her arms and followed him to the door.

Bruce, eager to get his chance at the outside world, hovered by the door ready to pounce. Gerald looked at her, questioningly.

“He’s fine, he’ll come back in,” she explained.

Gerald nodded and swung the door open wide. Bruce darted out like his tail was on fire. Aullie followed close behind him, but Gerald stopped her before she got outside.

“Aren’t you going to put on shoes?” he asked. “It’s pretty cold out.”

Aullie shrugged. “I don’t want to walk down the stairs in heels with my precious cargo,” she joked.

He smiled and said, “Alright.” Then, led her down the stairs.

The metal of the stairs was freezing against her bare feet, the chilled wind ruffled her vintage skirt. Thankfully the full skirt was long and covered most of her legs so she didn’t flash Gerald.

She followed him around the far corner of her building to the parking lot behind the complex. He leaned her paintings gently against a silver Prius and clicked a key fob to unlock the doors.

“Is it ok if I stack these?” he asked, opening the door to the back seat. “That’s probably going to be the only way they’ll fit. Unfortunately, my car’s not that much bigger than yours.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she replied. She waited as he carefully tilted both of the bulky canvases against the seat and slid them into the car. “Can you pop the trunk for me, so I can put a few in the trunk?”

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, opening the front door and pulling the trunk release lever. “Let me just move some stuff around real quick, make sure I don’t have anything embarrassing back there.”

Aullie pondered what embarrassing things the teacher’s assistant could be hiding in his trunk and decided she probably didn’t want to know.

“All clear!” Gerald called out. “Bring them over here.”

She walked around the car, handing him the stack of smaller painting’s she had brought. The cold wind chilled her bare arms and legs and she wished she had at least brought a jacket. One by one, she handed him her big, flat treasures and watched as he carefully stacked them in the mostly empty trunk. She appreciated the extra care he took in making sure they were all balanced. After all, her paintings were like her babies.

“I could probably fit another one or two if you’d like,” he offered.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure I can handle the rest. I really appreciate your help, though,” she said, honestly.

“Yeah, of course. And, again, I am so sorry about the…”

“No,” she cut him off. “Stop. It’s fine. You’re a great guy, it’s not you, it’s me.” As the tacky breakup excuse left her lips, she could see the sadness cloud his chocolate colored eyes behind his glasses.

Whoa, she realized then. This guy really does like me.

Aullie wasn’t sure how to express her guilt without making it sound like pity, so she just smiled and thanked Gerald again for all his help.

He smiled as he got into his Prius and drove away. Hoping to not be too far behind him, he did have a point she was going to have to be there early to make sure everything looked right.

She started to really freeze and jogged up the rickety stairs to her apartment. Bruce waited for her on the landing, rubbing the door and meowing like he’d been cast out into the cold.

“You little brat,” she said. Aullie opened the door and they both went back into the apartment.

Grabbing a coat and slippers this time, Aullie hauled the rest of her paintings out to her car. She packed a few into the truck, a few in the middle seat, and before she realized it, she only had one painting left.

It looked like Weston’s painting was riding shotgun, she realized, bitterly. She still wasn’t sure she even wanted to bring it, but she didn’t really have more time to come up with something else.

She set the painting on the seat. The self-conscious part of her still recovering from her last art show flop convinced her the painting wouldn’t sell anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to lose it.

And why did she care if she did?

With a mix of nerves, confusion, and hurt, she made her final trip to her apartment, strapping into a pair of maroon suede high-heeled Mary Janes. She double checked her haunting, romantic charcoal eye makeup and touched up her burgundy lipstick. Aullie had to admit, she looked pretty good, and despite the drama surrounding the day and the stigma surrounding the painting, she finally felt ready.

‘Let’s do this’, she thought as she snatched her keys off the counter.

Time to show the world what she, Aulora frickin’ Greene, was made of.

Chapter 4

Even after the hour-plus she and Gerald had spent organizing her showcase, Aullie still wasn’t completely happy with the way it looked. Something was off, but the problem was, she had absolutely no idea what it was.

“It’s fine,” Gerald had insisted about a hundred times. “That’s how every artist feels. From an outside standpoint, it looks great. Just try to relax.”

His soothing voice had done nothing to relax her, though, and neither had the two hours that had passed since then. Or the two and a half glasses of champagne. Even with a slight buzz, Aullie felt wildly on edge.

She cursed herself, internally as she realized she was making the same mistakes she had at the last show. Instead of standing in the corner glowering at her own work, she should be walking around, talking, meeting other artists and trying to find and charm gallery collectors.

‘Alright’, she decided. Drowning the last half of her glass of champagne, she rolled her shoulders back and drummed up the courage and confidence to do what she needed to do.

Social anxiety and introverted nature be damned, she wasn’t about to let another opportunity slip through her fingers. This was her life, her passion, and she needed to be ready to make it happen.

Aullie placed her empty flute on a passing tray and grabbed a fresh one. She smiled a genuine smile at the poor, tray-toting waiter. I know how you feel, she wanted to tell him. She did know how he probably felt; so much running and work for so little money, so little respect, that feeling of disdained invisibility. She felt almost guilty about the surge of motivation the exchange had given her, she was one hundred and ten percent ready to be done with serving forever and her first stepping stone was right under feet.

As she wandered through the exhibits, she felt the knots in her stomach begin to unwind. There really were some talented artists there. It must have been a real honor to be chosen to show alongside them.

Aullie stopped in front of a particularly interesting piece, a gigantic canvas hung unframed from a wire in the ceiling, the gentle draping of the un-stretched canvas seemed to make different pictures depending on the viewer’s perspective. She paced back and forth, admiring the impressive and extremely innovative work.

“What do you think?”

Aullie turned to see a short, curvaceous girl about her age with blond hair cropped to her chin and a pair of slim, black framed glasses. She wore wide-legged slacks, a colorful blouse adorned with flowers and a little bit too much flowery perfume.

“I think it’s incredible,” Aullie said, honestly. “Such an innovative piece of work.”

“Well, thank you,” the girl said, modestly.

“Oh, are you the artist?” Aullie asked, hoping she hadn’t offended her.

“Yes, I am.” She extended a hand. “I’m Maggie Griswold.”

“Aulora Greene,” she replied, shaking her hand. Though she loathed her birth name, it was too regal and pretentious sounding, she did like the artistic uniqueness of it when it came to the creative community. “Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

“Nice to meet you too. Pretty name,” Maggie replied.

“So, how long have you been doing art for?”

And with that, the two became instant friends. One by one, they showcased, discussed, and complemented each other’s artwork before moving on to check out the competition.

Aullie was happy to find someone to tour the exhibits with, especially since that someone also happened to be much more social. Thanks to Maggie and her almost aggressive self-marketing skills, Aullie had met several people, some of them important and some of them just good, funny company. Before long, she had four glasses of champagne down the hole and she was feeling pretty dang good.

The pair met another artist who stood out even in a crowd of expressive artists. He had a short, neat mohawk dyed a dark navy blue, and swirls of colorful tattoos covering his lean arms. He was clearly proud of them, as he was sleeveless at what was technically a semi-formal event, and they quickly became a topic of conversation. A sparrow on his bicep carried a banner that read ‘Alberts’.

“What’s that one for?” Maggie asked. Aullie had only known the girl half an hour, and she could already tell Maggie was crushing hard on tattoo boy.

“Oh, that’s just my last name,” he explained. “Troy Alberts, isn’t that such a preppy name?”

“It’s not that bad,” Maggie said with a cute little smirk.

The girls followed him to his exhibit, an interesting collection of black and white paintings with ominous hidden skulls and roses with sharp, exaggerated thorns.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said. “Ever since I was in high school, I’ve just always loved that sort of gothic, traditional tattoo thing.”

“That’s super cool,” Maggie gushed. “Oh hey, Aullie look at this one!”

She pointed to a small painting, one of the few pops of color in his collection. It had a fiery orange background and a traditional tattoo-flash style skull laid over the top, surrounded by an erratic black border. Aullie had to admit it was beautiful, striking in a way, and it reminded her of a few of her own works.

“I just did that one for fun,” Troy said with a laugh.

“I actually really like it,” Aullie admitted. “Your lines are so clean. I’m always so sloppy.”

“Oh whatever,” Maggie rolled her eyes. “She’s awesome. Let’s go show him your stuff Aullie.”

She figured she didn’t have much say in the matter and was happy to have made some friends, so she followed them through the maze of the art show. All the walls jutting out of everywhere to increase surface area made what should’ve been a short trip take forever.

As they walked, Aullie peeked out of the corners of her eyes, checking for the little red stickers that meant a painting had been sold. They were sparse, but they were still there, and Aullie began to build up hope that maybe one or two would be stuck next to her paintings once they got there.

As they rounded the corner to her exhibit, her heart sank a little to find there were none. Such a vain hope, she thought, discouraged.

She tried not to let her disappointment show as Maggie gushed about Aullie’s bold color choices and expressive style.

“I really like this one.” Troy pointed to a particularly dark piece Aullie had done. The black background was overlaid by different sizes of geometric shapes, all in dark shades of green and purple. “The way it tricks the eye and skips around, it’s really profound.”

Aullie swigged the dregs of her fourth glass of champagne. Artists are such weird people, why do we always need to use such pretentious words to describe things? I really need to stop drinking, she thought.

“Thanks,” she caught her slight slur and reigned it in. “It was definitely a fun one to paint. That’s the most important thing for me, really. When you make it fun, it doesn’t feel like work, you know?”

“Yeah. I’m so ready to start selling some actual art, so I can stop my stupid job waiting tables,” Maggie said.

“I’m a waitress too! I totally feel the same way,” Aullie said.

Maggie said something else. Troy laughed. But Aullie couldn’t hear or speak or even breathe.

Standing in the corner, tucked back almost out of view of her exhibit, was Weston. She was completely sure of it. He hadn’t seen her, thank god. He stood there, a rocks glass of what looked to be scotch in his hands, talking to another man.

Aullie had almost felt overdressed in her fancy frock, but Weston almost looked ridiculous in a tailored tuxedo, considering that some of the people were just wearing nice jeans.

The man beside him was equally overdressed, he even wore an impeccably tied bow tie. The conversation between the men looked heated and got hotter when Weston’s jaw clenched and he leaned over the shorter man with a predatory scowl.

Aullie was surprised. Not only that he was there, considering her name only appeared on the show roster a few days ago, so he had no way of knowing she was there, but because his dress and his behavior were wildly out of place. Something was very wrong.

The man in the bowtie gritted his teeth and glared back at Weston but said nothing.

Aullie drifted away from her acquaintances. Their shallow conversation didn’t matter to her, and she hoped the crowd would help keep her hidden as she moved closer to hopefully hear at least some of what Weston was saying.

She hadn’t pinned him as the angry, intimidating type, but his body language was rigid and menacing and she wanted to know what was going on.

She moved closer, closer, then stopped to pretend to admire a sculpture, so she didn’t look like a total creeper. Aullie had never really understood the huge craze about sculptures made from garbage, but that one, in particular, was kind of neat, lots of coffee filter flowers.

Aullie walked backward, very slowly, pretending to just admire a wall of art from afar. Plus, all Weston would see, if he looked, was a skinny girl with black hair. There were a lot of those, he wouldn’t necessarily know it was her.

‘This is crazy’, Aullie’s conscience nagged her. Her drunken mind won out, though and she continued her slow and potentially insane venture toward a man she shouldn’t want to see, just to hear what made him so angry.

Surprisingly, she was close enough to hear their hushed tones. She considered a painting on the wall angled near them. It wasn’t particularly moving, but it wasn’t like it mattered.

“You fucking bastard! You absolute imbecile!” Weston spat angrily. Aullie hadn’t heard him swear that way before and his accent somehow made it sound even meaner. “I gave you very specific instructions, and I want a very good reason why you didn’t follow them.”

“Well, uh…,” the man mumbled.

Weston cut him off. “You know what? I don’t even want your stupid bloody excuses. Handle this, now, or I promise it will not turn out well for you.”

The other man, an ugly, chubby man with close-cropped dark hair and a hint of a Queens’s accent dropped his head in submission. “I’ll get it handled.”

“You fuckin’ bloody well better,” Weston growled.

Is this how he is when he’s working? Aullie thought, horrified. It probably took a decent amount of aggression and discipline to do the things he did, but damn, that was mean.

Aullie walked away then, she’d heard enough. Weston had proven himself to be a liar and really, she shouldn’t have even been surprised that he would be so two-faced.

When she found Troy and Maggie again, Maggie exclaimed, “There you are!”

“Yeah, sorry,” Aullie apologized. “Had to run to the bathroom real quick.”

“Hey, when nature calls,” Maggie said with a shrug.

Aullie gave her best fake laugh for the lame joke and they continued their tour. As they walked away from her exhibit, she glanced back one more time.

Still no red stickers.

Art was discussed, people were met, hands were shaken, and truthfully Aullie was exhausted. Not only from all the social contact but because she couldn’t stop looking for Weston.

Why was he there? Was this like that night at work, where he was going to confront her and manipulate her into another date?

Truthfully, it seemed like some kind of weird coincidence, especially given his attire and the strangely aggressive conversation she had overheard. She was not only confused but obsessed.

She wanted so badly for him not to see her, and almost equally badly for him to see her. Her conflicted emotions left her intensely paranoid and her peripheral vision was working overtime to make sure he didn’t sneak up on her.

It was only nine-thirty and the show ran until eleven. ‘Damn all those crazy artsy night owls’, Aullie grumbled, hypocritically.

This is going to be a long night.

Chapter 5

Aullie was drunk. Too much free champagne had her mind foggy and she wandered around the gigantic maze of a showroom. The paintings, all the bright colors seemed to blur together and it was very overwhelming. She was looking for her new friends, but couldn’t find them anywhere.

‘Oh well’, Aullie thought, swigging from her sixth or seventh glass of bubbly.

Wasn’t there something else she should be looking for?

‘Oh yeah’, she realized.

Weston!

She hadn’t seen her tuxedoed stalker since the strange incident with him earlier and figured he had probably gone home. It hadn’t really seemed like he was there for the art anyway. So, what was he there for?

Aullie truly had no ideas. She was growing bored with the show, sure there was plenty of art and expressions to contemplate and all that stuff, but between Gerald’s surprise kiss and Weston’s random appearance, Aullie was far off her game and exhausted.

‘I’m going home’, she decided. She was probably in no shape to be driving and she was sure apologetic little Gerald wouldn’t mind either driving her home or holding her paintings until the next day, so she wouldn’t have to pack them all up before the show was over. She just had to find him first.

Slowly, Aullie swerved her way around another freestanding white wall and found herself back in her own exhibit. Her jaw dropped.

Every single one of her paintings, big and small, dark and bright, had a little red sticker next to it. Every painting had sold. Aullie’s befuddled mind tried to do the math, it was confusing because there were fourteen paintings that were each set to sell for different prices. Each one was over a hundred dollars, though, so Aullie was going to be walking out of there with over a thousand bucks.

The breath leapt from her chest. It would be the first time her bank account would have a comma in it for the first time in she didn’t even know how long. That would help with her rent and more than made up for the night of work she missed that night.

Most importantly though, she was making it as an artist!

Admittedly it was a small start but even the greats had to start somewhere, and she almost wanted to take it all out in cash and rub the bills in Eric’s piggy little face.

Aullie couldn’t stop staring at the little red dots. She was so distracted that she jumped a little when Gerald approached her with a friendly pat on the back of her arm.

“Jesus,” she said, putting a hand over her fluttering heart. “Sorry, you scared me.”

“Distracted by the money, the fortune, and the fame?” Gerald asked, coyly. His face beamed with pride and he really was genuinely happy to have seen Aullie do so incredibly well, especially in a show that he was able to get her into.

“I guess you could say that,” Aullie said, a prideful smile crept across her lips.

“You wanna know the crazy part?” Gerald asked, tone upbeat and excitable.

“There’s a crazy part?” Aullie replied.

“They were all bought by one guy. Some crazy rich collector. He paid above asking price on all of them, and insisted they offer you a permanent showcase in the gallery! The manager went totally nuts, he even paid all upfront in cash. I’ve met some eccentric collectors, but I’ve never seen anybody do that before.”

Aullie’s excitement bubble popped and her stomach sank to her knees. She would bet all the money she just made that she knew exactly who bought the paintings.

“It didn’t happen to be a tall-ish guy with blonde-ish hair, way overdressed in a fancy-ass tuxedo, did it?” Aullie asked, bitterly.

Gerald’s brows furrowed over his hipster frames. “Yeah, actually,” he said, sounding baffled. “How’d you know?”

“He’s a…” What was the right word? He wasn’t an ex, really. He definitely wasn’t a friend. “He’s a problem I’ve been having,” she settled on.

“Oh,” said Gerald, looking confused. “Well, either way, you got paid. And you’ve got a spot. So, you better ramp up that original work, get some more paintings in here, I think they were talking about giving you two full walls!”

All her passionate, artistic dreams were being fulfilled, and Aullie couldn’t be any more pissed. Her fists clenched at her sides, a scowl twisted her made-up face and her drunken haze disappeared as a surge of angry adrenaline cleared her mind.

“Is the guy still here?”

“Um, I don’t really know for sure,” Gerald replied. He said something else, but Aullie didn’t hear it and it didn’t matter.

Weston was staring right at her.

Not even twenty feet away, he stood there all overdressed; exuding confidence and power. A tumbler of scotch was in his hand, but his eyes were clear and he looked sober. He probably would’ve looked incredibly sexy if Aullie wasn’t so damn angry.

Weston smiled at her.

Aullie glared him down. He remained still as she stormed toward him, feeling as though flames were shooting from her ears.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, probably a little too loud and angry for the quieter, classy event but in that moment, she couldn’t care less.

“Well, it’s nice to see you too, Aullie,” his smooth British voice purred, that infuriating smile still curling his lips. Aullie had never wanted to smack someone so bad in her life.

“Why would you buy all my paintings? What are they, just gifts for your other girlfriends?”

“Gifts? For other girlfriends? God, no, Aullie I’m not like that,” he explained. “I tried to tell you when I came to your apartment, but you slammed the door in my face. I called a few times but you had me blocked, so I figured I would respect your space. But what you saw isn’t what you thought it was.”

“Oh, so you weren’t out on an early date with some beautiful, curvaceous blonde? Her hand wasn’t on your knee, yours wasn’t on her forearm?”

Weston shook his head, looking exasperated. “Technically, yes, most of those things are true but it wasn’t some hot date. The woman you saw me with, who would love to hear those lovely compliments you gave her, is my cousin.”

“Wh-What?” Aullie stuttered. She suddenly felt like the stupidest person on Earth. She had thrown away the person who was bringing out something new, something better, in her because he was out with his cousin? All she had to do was let him say a few words that day on her pathetic little excuse for a porch or answered one single phone call.

“Yes. Her name’s Hayley, we’ve been very close since we were young, so I could see how our physical intimacy may have come off the wrong way. I was trying to comfort her, she recently lost her husband.”

“Oh,” Aullie said, her insides awash with shame and guilt. “And you left her to come to my apartment? God, I just feel awful…”

“Hey,” Weston said with a warm smile. “It’s ok. She was understanding and I did go back and spend the rest of the afternoon with her, it’s really ok.”

“How’d she lose her husband?”

“He was shot,” Weston said, suddenly grim.

“Oh, my god!” Aullie exclaimed. “By who? Do they know?”

“Nope, no idea.” Weston’s sudden caginess caught Aullie off guard and made her suspicious but it seemed best not to push it. She’d seen how mean he could get earlier.

“So, why are you even here? How did you find out I was showing?”

“I didn’t actually,” he admitted. “I was here for a meeting with a friend and seeing you was just a bonus. I recognized some of your paintings and figured if I couldn’t have you, I could at least have part of you. I know how much it all means to you and I wanted to make sure you got a guaranteed space to pursue your dreams.”

“So, you used your rich man pull to sell out my exhibit and get me a spot? You really pity me that much?” Aullie said, indignantly. She couldn’t believe him.

“Look Aullie, me being rich has nothing to do with it. You’re talented, I’m not even the only one who bid on your works, I swear. I just made sure to outbid them,” he said with a coy smile.

Well, she thought. At least the other bids were there. If he’s telling the truth.

“I really want to see you succeed,” he said. “I mean that.”

“I... appreciate that,” Aullie said, not sure what else there was to say. Things were awkward between them. She had overreacted and here he was anyway, trying to help her live the life she wanted to live.

She was usually pretty resistant to the idea of a knight in shining armor, she had never wanted to be a damsel in distress.

But there he was, in all his shining glory.

“I don’t like to depend on men,” Aullie blurted, suddenly, breaking the silence and startling them both.

“You’re not depending on me, I’m simply an interested collector with loud opinions. Plus, the gallery owner is a woman, and you all seem to have a thing for these British accents,” he said with a wink.

“It definitely doesn’t hurt,” Aullie agreed. “You could probably have any woman you wanted.”

“Actually,” he said, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you see, the only woman I want, blocked my number. I can’t seem to get ahold of her to ask her out again.”

With that, Aullie blushed. Her behavior was embarrassing and she just had such a hard time believing he wanted her that badly.

“Well, he might have bought enough of her art to warrant an un-blocking,” she said, with an amused shrug.

“You think so?” he asked, beaming.

“Yeah,” she said, keeping her eyes low. “I do.”

With a gentle hand, he brought Aullie’s chin up, forcing her to look into his golden eyes and she felt as though she were falling into them. He was just so beautiful, not only on the outside but the inside as well.

They may have their differences, but it seemed like a stupid choice to keep running from someone who so badly wanted to support her and help her make her dreams come true.

When he kissed her, gently, she kissed him back hard. The same electricity that had crackled between them before, was back and stronger than ever.

Aullie was finally ready to give in to the gorgeous, mysterious, confusing man and see where the sparks between them could really go.

When they broke apart, Weston kept his face close to hers and his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear, “You look amazing in that dress by the way.”

“Thank you,” she giggle-whispered.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he said, beaming down at her. There were smudged traces of Aullie’s dark lipstick on his mouth and he didn’t seem to have any motivation to wipe them away.

It’s almost like I’ve claimed him, she thought. It was kind of sexy, knowing that this man wanted to be hers, and wanted everyone else to know it too.

Aullie realized in that one, beautiful moment that she was ready.

She was ready to see what it meant to fall in love.

* * *

Chapter 1

The air was freezing as she went out the door on Weston’s arm. Her nose automatically crinkled when the air hit it. She snuggled deep into his side as he pulled her in close, wrapping his arm around her.

“You’ve had a bit to drink, haven’t you?” he asked her as he led her to his Aston Martin.

She nodded as she eyed the car. The ostentatious vehicle which had triggered such a bad reaction from her at the beginning of what would’ve been their second date. “You drove that one, did you?”

“I did and you will get into the damn car and do whatever you have to do to make this work. I have money, deal with it!” He opened the door for her and helped her to slide into the passenger seat. “By the way, you look fantastic in this car. And you could look at it as you would any work of art. A lot of care and planning went into this awesome machine. You, as an artist, should admire such a thing.”

She sat back and put on her seatbelt as his words sank into her tenacious head. Wealth was a thing she’d grown to hate. Distrust, doubt, and fear filled her when she thought about her father. The first man to ever leave her, and he left her and her poor mother, high and dry.

She had carried his last name. His name was on her birth certificate. Charles Worhl was her father in name only. Once, what seemed so long ago, he’d been more of a father to her.

She’d thought her parents loved one another. Aullie wondered how someone could suddenly change the love in their heart so quickly. She also wondered if she could’ve inherited that terrible trait from her father.

She had to admit to herself that she’d never let anyone get close enough to hurt her. Keeping men at a distance was a dance she was good at. Until Weston came along, that is. Where he was concerned, she was nearly defenseless against the chemistry which surrounded them.

As Weston got into the driver’s seat, she leaned her head on the headrest and gazed at him. He was one beautiful man. A real Adonis. And he wanted her. He wanted her for more than just sex. He really wanted her.

But did Aulora Greene, really Worhl, even know who she was?

“I’m going to grab us something to eat then take you home,” he let her know, using a tone that inferred he wasn’t asking, he was telling her what he was going to do.

No ire ran through her. No incensed emotion pounded at her brain, telling her not to let him tell her what he was going to do. Instead, she felt taken care of and mumbled, “Okay.” She watched a smile move over his plump and recently kissed lips and one found her lips too.

She nibbled on her lower lip, recalling the kiss that went from sweet to intense in record time. His hand moved over her upper thigh as he pulled out of the parking garage. “I suppose you’re pretty excited about having a place to permanently sell your art, Aulora.” His hand drifted back and forth over her dress covered thigh, making little blasts of heat tap at her inner depths.

When a red light had him stopping the car, she leaned forward. Brazenly, she took his handsome face in her hands and kissed him again with warmth and a promise of things to come, later. She eyed him when their mouths parted as the car behind them blasted its horn when the light turned to green. Neither seemed to care too much.

Weston shook his head to clear it, then stepped on the gas. “Aulora, can I take you to my place for the night?”

“I hoped you would.” She ran her hand over his broad shoulder then down to his bicep that bulged, straining the black material of his tux. “Weston, why the tux? You’re a bit over-dressed for such an art exhibit.”

“I told you, I wasn’t there for that. I had another occasion I’d been at where this attire was expected.” His fingertip trailed over her exposed collarbone, making her shiver with the idea of that finger finding every part of her body and soon.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked him as she took his hand and placed his finger in her mouth where she gently sucked it while pulling it back and forth.

When he moaned a bit, she moved her eyes from his gorgeous face to watch the rise in his trousers. It made her feel like a sexual goddess. Something she’d never experienced prior to that night.

“A wedding. A small family thing. My uncle married his fourth wife. I had to go date-free since you refused to talk to me. It would’ve been nice to have you there with me. I know your aversion to money, though. Maybe it wouldn’t have been a very good thing to take you to, anyway.”

“Probably not.” She pulled his wet finger out of her mouth and moved it to stroke the flesh between her breasts.

“Aulora, how much did you have to drink, peach?”

“I lost count.” She pulled his hand back up and ran her tongue over his palm.

“Aulora!” He pulled to the side of the busy street and looked her over. “This isn’t like you.”

She nodded. “You’re right, it’s not. I want to do this, Weston. I want to do it all. I don’t want to scare you off. I really don’t. But I want you. I want all of you. Every last bit. I want to taste every nook and cranny. I want to know your gorgeous body, intimately and I want you to know mine. I want to get in your head and find out what makes you tick.”

He stared at her in disbelief. Could she really have changed so very much since he’d seen her last? Could she really want to give them a shot?

“Aulora, if you stay with me tonight, there will be nothing but cuddles and maybe a bit of talking. Then off to bed, you’ll go to the guest room while I go to sleep in mine. Tomorrow, when you’re sober, we’ll see if you still feel so free.” He gave her a firm look and moved his hand back to the steering wheel.

“Okay,” she said with a simple statement. “I can wait. And I’ll still have the same thing on my mind. Making this work. Really giving this a try. I’ve never even contemplated doing this with anyone before.”

“You’re a virgin?” he gasped as he looked her over.

A laugh erupted from her. “No! No, of course not. I mean a relationship. God, you’re funny, West.”

“West?” he asked as he pulled back onto the road.

“Yeah, you call me a name no one else does. I want to have a name I can call you. And you’ve called me peach twice.”

“You recall how many times I’ve done that?” he asked as he smiled with the thought.

“I pretty much recall every word you’ve said to me,” she said then put her hand over her mouth. “Damn! It seems champagne is a lot like truth serum.”

“With you, it seems to be. I’ll remember that for the future when I need to get something out of you,” he said with a chuckle.

“The future,” she muttered to herself. “I’ve never had a future with anyone. It’s weird. But a good weird. West, are you sure about this? I mean, I’m a poor, little, art student with an obvious penchant to be introverted and kind of closed off most of the time. And you, well, you’re cool, sexy, smart, funny, and most likely great at having sex. I’m not saying I’m bad at it but I can just tell that you’re great at it. I’m sure to disappoint you.”

“You won’t. And I don’t want you to sell yourself short about anything. You see yourself one way and I see you in this light. When I look at you, I see a gorgeous, yet she’s unaware of the fact, young woman with a talent that’s sure to see her make her dreams come true. If she can let the self-doubt go and see herself for who she truly is.”

“What am I, truly, West?” Her steely eyes bore into him as she thought he might have the answer she’d been looking for.

He took her hand as another red light had him stopping. His eyes held hers as he said, “You are a rare person, my little peach. You have the light of the world inside of you, fighting to get out and show you what it can do. Trust in yourself. There’s more to you than you can even comprehend. I see it. I see it right there, shining in your eyes. And I want to see it out in the open one day very soon. I want to see that light fill you and take you over. It will take you to heights you never knew of before. And I want to be there for every step of your amazing journey, Aulora.”

She breathed in and held the breath as she looked into his golden eyes. “Are you some kind of an angel, sent to help me, Weston Calloway?”

“I think that about you, Aulora.”

The way their eyes held told them both something magic could happen if they’d only allow it to.

Chapter 2

Wearing one of Weston’s T-shirts, Aulora sat on the floor of the guestroom in the Upstate New York mansion Weston called his home. A piece of apple pie lay in a white Styrofoam box in front of her and she poised her plastic fork over it to take the first bite of it.

Dinner had been a cheeseburger and fries that she’d scarfed down while sipping on a chocolate shake as they watched some movie on the large flat screen in the giant bedroom.

She’d paid little attention to it as she and Weston joked and chatted lightly as they ate the food he’d bought just before they got to his place. Aullie tried not to get her panties in a wad over the many cars there were when they pulled into the garage. Mercedes, Porches, BMW’s were parked right alongside the beat up, orange bug he’d first picked her up in.

She’d told herself it wasn’t his fault he was born into wealth and his father actually loved him. Unlike hers. It wasn’t his fault that the entry floor was made out of marble and the giant staircase was made out of shiny mahogany wood. So similar to where she’d grown up.

A pain ran through her heart when she went into the bathroom attached to the guest room he’d put her in when he gave her the T-shirt and told her to change while he went to change too and that he’d join her in the guest room shortly. The Italian tile that was used in the bathroom was the same tile that was used in her parents’ bathroom back in the mansion they’d lived in before her father sent them to live in a small apartment in Queens.

She choked back the lump that had risen in her throat and looked at her reflection.

“It’s not West’s fault the same tile has been used in the bathroom of the guest room he decided to put you in, Aullie. Get over yourself. Yes, you had money once. More money than you knew what to do with. But that’s gone now and Weston Calloway is not to blame for that. Charles Wohrl is.”

She’d washed the heavy makeup off her face and brushed her hair out then went back into the bedroom that was larger than her entire studio apartment. There she found Weston, wearing a T-shirt that matched the one he’d given her to wear and a thin set of pajama pants.

His feet were bare and even they were perfect. She’d pranced up to where he’d made a carpet picnic and sat, Indian style, next to him. He’d turned on the television and put on some movie, she paid no attention to.

“I think you’ll like the burger. They use real, one hundred percent pure beef.” He placed the burger on top of the brown paper bag it had come in and emptied the container of fries on the opposite side. “Ketchup?”

She nodded and before she knew it, they’d eaten everything up, except the one slice of pie he’d bought for them to share. Even though it was a million-dollar mansion they were in, it felt like an intimate place where money didn’t matter.

Their plastic forks collided when they both went for the pie at the same time. They laughed and had a small fork fight before he let her win. She stabbed the first bite then held it to his lips. “You get this bite.”

His golden eyes sparkled as he opened his mouth and took the bite she’d offered him. Then he stabbed the next bite and fed it to her. Bite by bite, they fed one another until there was no more pie and no longer was he worried that alcohol was ruling over Aulora’s brain. Pushing her shoulders, gently, he eased her to lie back on the soft carpet.

Brushing her raven hair back, he gazed at her as she did him. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her shoulder after he pushed the T-shirt away from it.

“As are you,” she whispered as she ran her hands over his shoulders and then down his arms.

His lips were warm upon her skin, her body was filling with desire, the playfulness was long gone and a heat was beginning to creep into places it hadn’t been before.

As he kissed trails over her skin, up her shoulder to her neck, his hands moved over her body, caressing her with a softness she’d never known. He was great at that. Better than anyone else had ever been. She knew he’d be great at sex. And she was less worried about how she’d be at it with him.

When his lips pressed against her ear, she felt the warmth as he whispered, “Can you feel it, Aulora?”

Her heart was beating in a way it never had before. It felt different. Not rushed. Not heated so much there was no room to think. It was different than anything she’d felt before. “I feel more than I have with anyone else.”

“Me too. And I want this to be special. So, you’ll understand when I don’t take you, entirely this first time?” His words stopped her and she pulled him to look at her.

“West, why are you so set on waiting to do this?” she asked him as she really had no clue.

The way his hand moved over her cheek as he looked deeply into her eyes made her feel good, and dare she think it, loved?

“I want you to know you’re special. I want you and I both to know that there’s real love between us when we fully give ourselves to the other one. I want you to be certain, Aulora. If we are intimate, I won’t let you run away from me again. That space I’ve been affording you will not exist any longer.”

His words should frighten her, she knew they should. That bit of dominating nature she’d witnessed between him and the other man at the museum moved through her memory. The man who hovered over her was sweet, endearing, and honest. But he could also be dominating. Could she accept that?

“Perhaps we should get to know more about each other.”

He smiled and pulled her up. They sat alongside each other, facing each other as their hands still moved over the other’s body. Arms, legs, stomachs. “Ask me anything you want to.”

She dipped her head, shyly. “I saw you talking to a man earlier this evening.”

The look of surprise on his face was quickly followed by a frown. “You saw me and didn’t say hello?”

She nodded. “Anyway, like I said, I saw you talking to a man. I overheard some of what you said to him. You were mean to him, West. Is dominance a thing you’re known for?”

“Mean? To Him? Oh, peach if you only knew. That man is a petulance to society. He was given a job to do. One, I’m not at liberty to discuss. With people like him, you have to be dominating or they will run all over you. It’s kind of an act. One I won’t be doing with you.” His finger trailed lightly over her lips. “Never with you. I see you as my equal. In all ways.”

She breathed out a sigh of relief but wondered if she should believe him. Her father had been dominating. He took care of her and her mother. He took such complete care of them it was a struggle when he left them so abruptly.

“I don’t want you to take care of me.”

“Then I won’t.”

“You already kind of do.”

“Perhaps you’re confusing taking care of with caring for you.”

Was she confusing the two? Was she being foolish? Was she going to really be able to give herself so completely to the man who sat, facing her, stroking her with deft fingers that told her they alone could bring intense pleasure to her the likes of which she’d never known?

But sex with him would mean she was giving up her independence, in a way. If she ran away from him again, he wouldn’t exactly let her go.

“Are there circumstances you’d accept if I found it necessary to end this thing between us?” she asked then thought about it and added, “After we have sex.”

He looked at her and seemed to be calculating his words. Finally, he said, “I’m sure there would be. I’m not saying I can get away with anything. I am saying you’ll need to talk and let me talk before you go jumping to conclusions and hauling ass like you’ve been doing.”

“And if the reason is viable, then you will let me end things without a huge deal being made? You won’t come to where I’m working to fight with me over the decision?”

With a shake of his head, he said, “No. I wouldn’t need to. You see, you’d have to talk to me first. Explain what it is that upset you. Then you’d give me a chance to explain things to you. Tell you my side of things. Get it?”

“You want me to totally invest myself in you,” she said as she weighed his words.

“Yes.” He cupped her chin in his hands. “I’ll do the same for you, peach.”

“Like a marriage of sorts,” she mused as she looked off to one side.

He smiled as he leaned in and kissed her, softly and sweetly.

“Of sorts.”

She didn’t know what to say. That was similar to the arrangement her parents had had. And she wanted nothing like what they had. But she ventured further.

“Would a real marriage ever be a thing that could be considered, in the future? You know, is it against your family’s customs to marry someone of my poor financial stature?”

“Real marriage?” he asked her with a frown. “What’s in a piece of paper, peach?”

Her heart sank as she recalled her father saying something much along those same lines to her mother. She nearly got up and ran right then. But something made her sit tight. She had to know more.

Chapter 3

He could read her better, now that he’d known her longer and seen how quick to run she was. His hand moved over hers as she looked a bit like a rabbit who was about to bolt.

Weston knew she had no way to get anywhere. She was his for the night, whether she liked it or not. The marriage thing seemed to have set her off and he quickly moved that topic off to one side. Marriage was huge to a person of great wealth.

There were prenuptial agreements to be made and lawyers to be met with. A real nightmare. No romance to it at all. No. Marriage was a thing he wasn’t the least bit interested in. But a relationship was. A committed relationship was what he wanted with Aulora. And he would do what he had to, in order to get her to make a commitment to him.

His hands moved over her shoulders and he drew her in close.

“How about I show you a bit of what a relationship would be like with me?”

She nodded and asked, “First, is marriage really a thing you’re against?”

“Against, no. Just not keen on. Paperwork isn’t sexy or romantic. It’s cumbersome and boring. I want you and I to have a romance, peach. A real romance.”

“Most romances either end in tragedy or marriage, eventually,” she said as she watched his reaction.

“Some marriages can be considered tragic, don’t you agree?” He stood and took her hand, pulling her up too.

She had no idea what to say to him. He was showing her the typical rich guy signs. Let’s mess around and play at the commitment game but not really invest entirely in it. But her curiosity had been piqued.

Romance, even a failed one, could be fulfilling and help her art career. Great love and even great heartache could lead to great paintings that might help her further a career that was just beginning to bud.

She let him lead her to the bed. A dark blue comforter that looked as if it was filled with goose down feathers, covered the king-sized bed. Not two but six fluffy pillows were covered in a pale blue silk material. It told her the sheets under the blanket would be the same.

She’d slept on silk sheets before. She’d had the finest of everything, once upon a time. And those memories were flooding back to her as he pulled the blanket back, revealing the same pale blue sheets she knew would be there.

“Care to lie down, Aulora?” he asked her as he pulled his shirt off, revealing the ladder of abs she knew he’d been hiding.

She could merely nod as she couldn’t take her eyes off his tanned and toned skin. It flowed over his stomach and chest like a satin. Before she took her place on the bed, she let her hand drift over his midsection. “Tight.”

“Yes, they are,” he agreed. “Now, perhaps you’d allow me to see what’s tight on you.”

Her breath hitched as she looked at him with wild eyes. “Weston, if I let you do this, does it mean…”

His fingers touched her lips, stopping her. “No. It doesn’t. I won’t hold you to a thing until I take you. Once I take you, Aulora, I will consider you to be mine. In all ways. I want you to understand that, completely.”

She shuddered at how that sounded. His, completely. So, she asked, “And you will be mine, completely?”

He nodded and her heart dropped a beat. He’d become hers. The wealthy, gorgeous man who stood before her would belong to her. Yeah, she could see that rocking her world!

The way his chest and abs felt under her palms gave her so many inspirations about paintings and even sculptures that she knew there would be some good to come out of this thing he wanted. And she had to admit that she wanted it too.

“Yes,” came out of her mouth without her knowing it was on its way out.

A gleam in his eyes made her smile. “Yes?” he asked her. “You mean yes, you want to commit to me?”

She nodded. “I do.” She moved her arms up to wrap around his neck. “I’ve never felt this way before, Weston. I love you. I know I do. I don’t want to wait. I want this just as much as you do. Maybe even more. I want to commit to you, Weston Calloway.”

“Wait,” he said as he pulled her arms off his neck and held her hands. “Say it again, Aulora.”

“What?” she asked with a tantalizing smile. “I want to commit to you?”

He pulled her in tight and pressed his forehead to hers. “No. The other thing.”

“I’ve never felt this way before?” she asked with a grin. She knew what he wanted to hear again, she was just toying with him.

“The other thing,” he said, and then gave her ass a smack.

“Oh! You must mean when I said, I love you.”

He sighed and said, “Yes, that’s what I wanted to hear come out of your sweet mouth. And I love you, Aulora. I think I always have since the moment I first saw you.”

She stared at him, unable to really believe he meant the words which had just fallen off his tongue.

“Don’t lie to me, please, West.”

“Lie to you?” he asked her as he slid into the bed next to her and ran his hand through her silky dark hair.

“I do love you, Aulora. I do.”

She blinked twice and relaxed a bit as his hand, moving through her hair, made her tension melt away.

“Weston, will you make me yours tonight?”

“Not tonight, peach. You see, I want not an ounce of alcohol in your system. I want you to make the real decision when you’re one hundred percent sober. A thing you’re not right now, even though you may think you are.”

“Noble to a fault, aren’t you?” she asked him then kissed the tip of his nose. A straight nose, a powerful looking nose. Everything about the man was regal, majestic even. And he wanted them to be exclusive.

“I am,” he told her as his hand moved to caress her cheek. “And you are gorgeous. Resisting the temptation to be intimate with you is taxing. But I will handle myself, appropriately.”

“Too bad,” she moaned as she moved her body closer to his and moved in to kiss him.

She was a bit surprised when he let her kiss him, using her tongue to navigate the recesses of his warm mouth. His arms enveloped her and she settled into his wide chest, her breasts mashed against his hard pecs.

Aulora felt his hands move down her back as the kiss grew. All the way down they went until he had her ass cupped in his large hands. He squeezed it, making her moan with how right it all felt.

She mused in her mind about the fact she was falling, much like her mother did, for a man who could buy and sell people. She was accepting the same damn thing her mother had accepted from her father. In the end, her mother was left out in the cold, with a teenage daughter to support.

But the way his mouth felt as it moved with hers was amazing. A thing she’d never encountered before. The way his body capitulated to hers and hers to his was beyond anything she’d ever imagined.

He too was feeling the difference in being with her and any of the other women he’d ever been with. His mind was a flurry of ‘what if’s’. Aulora may well be the one who could break his heart, entirely. And his heart had been broken before. It had been nearly destroyed once.

Weston had been young when it had happened. But the scar was still there, he supposed it would always be there.

His affection for her grew with each passing moment and before either of them realized it, they were all over one another, grinding into each other’s sensual places, moaning with near abandonment.

Weston made her release his mouth and he moved to kiss down her neck. Her nails dug into his biceps where she tightly gripped him. Her feet ran up and down his legs and she was effectively pulling his pajama bottoms down. Only their underwear separated them from actual penetration.

Her T-shirt was keeping her soft tits away from him and he couldn’t stand it any longer and pulled it off her, stopping to look at her perfectly plump and pert breasts, he bit his lip then leaned in and took one of them in his mouth.

She made a wonderful sound as he suckled her. Her hands ran up and down his back as she arched up to him. She needed him, wanted him, but he had to make her wait. He had to make her ache for him. He had to make her understand where it was she belonged.

As his mouth left her tit, his hands moved to play with them as he kissed his way down her stomach. His tongue dipped into her belly button and then he ventured lower. “With my intimate kiss, you will better understand how good I can make you feel, peach.”

Her hands fisted the silky sheets as she readied herself to feel his mouth on her in an area that was already pulsing for more attention. “You’re making me feel very good right now. But to feel you there would be the cherry on top of this very tasty cake, baby. Do with me what you want. I am yours for the taking.”

His smile was felt on her throbbing clit then his tongue ran over it, making her entire body quiver with delight. “Mine,” he whispered then he grabbed her ass and pulled her up.

Loudly, she moaned as he kissed her even better there than he had her mouth. “Yes,” was all she could say, over and over again until she was screaming, “West! West!”

His kiss didn’t stop as her body convulsed with a thousand waves of complete and utter pleasure. His tongue went inside of her, tongue fucking her into a frenzied state.

Her breathing was harsh, her body was covered in sweat and she was fantastically high from the way he treated her body. And now she wanted him to know what her intimate kiss felt like.

When he came up for air, she turned the tables on him. Quickly, she moved and had him on his back before he was fully aware of just what it was she was about to do.

He saw her dark hair covering his stomach as she ran her tongue down his stomach and pushed his underwear off his swollen appendage. “Aulora, you don’t have to…” A groan interrupted his words as her mouth, hot and wet, took his cock into it.

His head fell back and he could think no more. Up and down she went, her hands kept his long shaft covered once her mouth left it. Her head bobbed and he couldn’t stop the groaning he’d started when her mouth first touched him.

He was no stranger to sex. He’d had plenty of it. But none like what he and she were experiencing. He’d known it when he first saw her. He’d known there was something special about her. Something that would defy explanation. And he was right.

Her mouth moved in a perfect rhythm and he was about to explode. He pulled at her to stop, so he wouldn’t come in her mouth but she protested and moaned, making him unable to keep it in any longer. He jerked and shot his load down her throat, all the while she moaned and continued to stroke him.

The sounds that came from him were harsh and animal-like. He was floating on air when her mouth finally left him. All he could do was try to catch his breath as she climbed up his body and laid half her body on his. He wrapped one arm around her, kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I so love you, Aulora.”

“And I love you, Weston. Can we go to sleep now?”

“We can,” he told her and it took no time for them both to fall fast asleep.

Chapter 4

Aullie woke with her body aching from head to toe. The previous night’s activities had been a real workout for her. And the morning was the start of a new beginning for her and Weston. Or so she thought, anyway.

As she rolled over, she found he was gone. He’d left her as she slept and she found it off-putting that he’d do such a cold thing.

Her dreams had been filled with him. And her body was already prepared for what she thought would be the whole act. No more foreplay, she was ready for the whole enchilada.

When she sat up, rubbing her eyes as she did, she found her cell on the nightstand and picked it up. A text was waiting for her from him. She swiped the screen to read it. -Went to grab some breakfast, the staff is off this weekend. Shower and put on the clothes I left for you in the bathroom-

Getting out of bed, she made her way to the bathroom. She’d hoped they’d shower together that morning after making love and cementing their relationship.

She giggled as she looked in the mirror and saw his marks all over her creamy skin. She traced the marks with her finger and felt the way he’d made her feel when he had made them.

Aullie looked at the vanity and found a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste waiting for her there. As she brushed her teeth, she saw clothes hanging from a hook on the back of the bathroom door. A deep blue dress and blue lingerie to match were there. Along with a set of shiny black pumps with six-inch spiked heels. She rinsed her mouth and went to see what was in the little bag that was hanging from the top of the hanger and found a black box inside. When she opened the box, she found a gorgeous necklace and earring set with sapphires and diamonds dripping off them. She took in a breath as she looked at the beautiful set.

And there it was, the disgust she felt for herself as she drooled over the expensive things he’d left for her. His gifts to her for a night of pleasure. His purchase of her flesh.

She went to the toilet where she gagged and dry heaved until she was spent. What was she allowing herself to turn into? A money hungry whore? Or a foolish woman who believed love could see them through all things?

Either way, she wasn’t being true to who she really was. She turned the shower on to wash away the night and filled her hand with expensive shampoo. An expensive salon brand that she’d used when she had money.

The smell of it brought back the old days. The days when she didn’t have to count pennies or worry over rent and other bills. Days when she was driven around by Dustin, the family’s driver. Days when her father still loved her, and her mother.

She wondered what had happened. Her mother had never really explained. She’d told her that her father wanted them to move out and so they did. She later said, when Aullie asked why he wasn’t coming to visit, that he wanted to be left alone to live his life.

Aullie had always thought they were the most important part of his life. But it seemed they weren’t. Even though he’d lavished gifts upon them both and made them feel as if they were special.

It was all a lie.

Her father had the money to give them those things. It wasn’t a sacrifice to him at all to bestow the things on them that he did. And it was no sacrifice for Weston to give her the things he had, either.

The dress was from a designer she’d known before. It most likely cost somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred to a thousand dollars. A drop in the bucket for Weston. The shoes were easily worth seven hundred dollars and the jewelry was in the thousands. And all for one simple night.

What would he try to give her if and when she really did commit to him? A house? A car? The moon?

She rinsed out the shampoo and put a dollop of conditioner into her palm. It was thicker than what she could afford and she knew her hair would look a thousand times better after using the products. She’d stroll out of that bathroom looking just as regal as Weston did.

But it would be temporary, just like before. It would be fake and unreal, just like before. What was she doing?

After rinsing her hair and the soap off her body, she turned off the water and got out of the shower with so many jets that it would boggle the mind of someone who’d never seen so many before. But she had and she knew it was one of the many customs that were built in when making mansions.

She dried off and looked under the cabinet of the vanity to see if there was a blow dryer. There were several styling tools, a flat iron, a curling iron, and a styling wand. And then she saw a black box and her name was written across the top of it in white marker.

“What the hell?” she asked herself as she pulled it out. When she opened it, she found it was filled with very expensive makeup and in her shade as well. “What was he thinking? Did he always know he’d get me here someday? Should I be running?”

A quick knock, three light taps and then she heard him say, “Peach, did you find everything?”

Wrapping the towel around her to cover herself, she threw the door open. “Weston! How in the world did you know I’d be here?” She poked him in the chest. A chest covered in a soft sweater made out of cashmere in the color of vanilla ice cream. His dark blue slacks matched the color of her dress and she found herself going light headed. Was she to be the Barbie to his Ken?

His smile was genuine as he said, “I just did. Call me psychic, if you will.”

“How about psychotic?” she replied with a high tone to her voice. “This is more than highly unusual. This is bordering, no this is not bordering…, this is what a stalker would do. Who goes out and buys things for a person they’re not even talking to most of the time?”

“I knew you’d come around.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms. She knew she should protest but he held her in a way that took her mind to other places. His lips pressed against hers and the fight in her was extinguished, immediately.

How could he make a complete change in her so damn quickly?

When he ended the kiss, he rested his forehead to hers. “I want to take you out today. A real date with flowers and candy. I’ve made some great plans for you and I. And I wanted you to feel comfortable, so I bought you clothes to make you feel like you fit in because you do.”

“May I ask where it is you’re taking me?” she asked as she ran her fingers over the soft material of his sweater.

“To the club, I’m a member of. I’d like to introduce you to my family and friends. I want them all to know you’re my girl. You are my girl, aren’t you?” One small kiss ended his sentence and melted her heart.

“West, you know that’s something we should talk about before you go announcing anything…”

“I thought we already had talked about it last night. Are you going to tell me that you’ve changed your mind?” His hold on her tightened as if he wasn’t going to let her go if she did say it was all just drunk talk.

“In the light of day, I can see how the way you live will affect me. I don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“I love you. Do you love me?” His question weighed heavily on her.

In the end, she had to admit, “I do love you. But I’m afraid of how this will end.”

“Don’t worry about the damn future. Think about now and what we mean to one another. Don’t stop this for what might happen. I’m not about to love you and know you love me and just keep letting things happen the way they have been. So, what do you say, Aulora? Would you like to be my girl?”

“Can I still be me, if that happens? Can I be the person I’ve always been?”

“I’d have it no other way. I’m not trying to change you in any way. You’re amazing! Why would I even want to change you?”

“The clothes, the jewels,” she said.

“Only to make you feel at ease when I take you places where things like that matter. Other than that, I love the casual way you dress. I never want you to feel out of place. I care about how you feel, peach. So, for today, please wear what I bought for you, so I can introduce you to the people who are special to me. I’ve talked so much about you. They’ve been itching to meet you. And you could make some new fans of your art. Now, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

It would, she thought. It’s rich people who buy art, after all. And it’s not as if she’d never hobnobbed with the super-rich before. She knew how to act at the expensive clubs they all belonged to. Why not go for it?

Weston was the person who brought out more in her where her art was concerned, anyway. Why not let him help her to become the best artist and person she could?

“I’ll be your girl, Weston. That sounds pretty amazing to me.”

“And I’m your guy, Aulora Greene.”

Chapter 5

Glitz, glamor, and flash were everywhere once they were inside the prestigious club, Weston and his family belonged to. At times, she felt as if she was a show pony when he introduced her to people.

Aulora knew they were looking at her bone structure to determine if she came from good stock. That’s what wealthy people did, they determined things about people based on their appearances. But it was her art that reeled them all in.

“Oh, my!” an older woman, West had introduced her to, by the name of Emily Snodgrass, proclaimed in surprise when he told her Aulora Green was an artist with her own collection at one of the most prestigious galleries in New York state. “The entire state?” she asked.

Weston nodded and Aulora blushed a bit as he went on to tell the woman more about her than she was used to hearing herself talked about. “She’s already sold an entire collection and she hasn’t even graduated yet. I dare say, she’s destined for greatness, my little peach.”

“And where did you find such a treasure, Weston?” Emily Snodgrass asked, sending a frown over Aulora’s beautifully made-up face.

A dingy pub isn’t a thing an upper-class citizen is supposed to work at. But she found herself staring up at Weston with adoration as he said, “A pub on the outskirts of Queens is where I found my heart. Being an artist, she’s taken the role to heart and took a modest job and flat to help her gain the insight she needs to become a great artist. You know, the pains and tribulations that all great art is created from.”

It was kind of true, after all!

“So, intelligent and how true,” Emily Snodgrass replied with a wide smile. “You’ve either made your parents very proud or they’re very disappointed right now. I know how parents can be. When I went to finishing school, and came out with the wild idea that I wanted to be a reporter, I was met with criticism. Unfortunately, I caved into it and went on to become the wife of Seville Snodgrass the Fourth, instead of pursuing a path my parents deemed unfit for my station in life.”

“Pity,” Weston said and looked at Aulora with a wide smile on his handsome face. “My Aulora would walk through fire to get where she needs to get in the art world. Isn’t that right, Aulora?”

She nodded and watched a tray of alcoholic beverages pass by. “My mother is proud of me. My father, not so much.” How she wanted to reach out and grab a glass of numbing juice but Weston wanted no alcohol to pass through her lips, lest she would get no taste of him on that day.

And she wanted a taste of him more than she’d ever wanted anything!

The day passed by and she managed to keep her cool and make new acquaintances. With so many promises to stop by the gallery to view and perhaps make purchases of her work, she knew she was going to need to get to work ASAP and with Weston as her muse, she was pretty sure things were beginning to look up for her.

The ride in his Mercedes as they went back to his place, had her dreamily looking out the window at the darkening sky. Perhaps she could make her own wealth one day as a real artist. Maybe she could make it all happen for herself.

She glanced at Weston as he took her hand and kissed it.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“I was just thinking about things. Thank you, West. I think you might be my golden ticket.”

His smile made her heart flutter and she found herself smiling too. He lifted her hand once more and turned it over, leaving a trail of kisses over her palm. “When we get home, I want to get you out of that pretty dress and into my arms. What do you think about that?”

With a shiver of pure lust, she said, “I think I want to kiss you all over and I’d love it if you’d do the same for me.”

She couldn’t wait to get back to his mansion and find out what made him tick. And when they pulled into the garage and he sighed as he looked at another car that was parked there, he looked over at her with a frown.

“Father’s home. We can’t get right to the good stuff.”