Epilogue Part Two

EPILOGUE PART TWO

I'll never grow tired of having Juliana on my arm.

And luckily for me, as of three months ago, my best friend stopped looking at me like he'd chop off said arm.

To my left, Jeremy scratches his chin quizzically and hums for perhaps the twentieth time in five minutes, his gaze fixed on the painting Juliana also admires. Sensing my irritation, she snickers, the movement squeezing my arm.

Another dramatic inhale and…

"Hmmmmmmmmmm—"

"Bro, what is your deal?" Juliana convulses against me, shaking with silent laughter. "I already answered your questions about this one, so I don't get why you're channeling your inner Confucius. Need a gong to complete the vibe? Maybe a mat to meditate?"

I smirk when Juliana lets loose a laugh—just one, from those ruby red lips. I don't stare at them for too long, or permit my eyes to trail down the modest yet tight black dress she wears, lest I draw the attention of those around us to yet another piece of art at this showcase.

One below my belt.

"Hmmmm, yessss."

Fucking hell.

Jeremy swirls his flute by the stem, eyeing the glass, presumably searching for legs, even though he's drinking champagne, not wine. When he upturns his nose, his voice taking on a nasally tone, I instantly recognize what he's doing.

Mocking the guests.

I'd chastise him, but… they are a bit eccentric.

After his initial praise of my talents and an onslaught of questions, this is what he resorts to? I kind of love him for it.

He swirls some more. "Why, Hayden—Hayden Kingstonnn, Mr. Kingston, good sir—how very kind of you. So generous, thoughtful, selfless, considerate, and all the other words in my pocket-size thesaurus... I'd take you up on your marvelous offer if…"

Cringing, his deep tenor returns, as does his playful expression. "You want the truth? Yesterday was leg day. I can hardly squat low enough to sit on the toilet, let alone on some floor mat."

"Jeremy!" Juliana hisses. "So inappropriate."

His palms shoot up defensively. "Sorry, Sis. I didn't realize your boyfriend was so squeamish." My lips twitch when he nudges me.

I glance at his form-fitting attire. "You couldn't have been that sore, if you managed to squeeze yourself into that suit."

"Ahhh, you got me with that one! I'll admit it. I've been bulking hard, so this is a bit tight. But I'm serious. Yesterday's split was brutal!" He winks at me. "Just ask my man, Elias."

My man.

I'll never get used to Jeremy's new nickname for my brother, ever since convincing him to lift weights, a feat that's more shocking than… well, anything. But against all odds, one month in, my brother's still going strong, adhering to Jeremy's four-day-a-week program.

"Did you ask him?" he prods again. "Huh? Maybe during your dinner tonight? Thanks for the invite, by the way." His eyes narrow into slits, half joking, half serious.

More often than not, we do invite Jeremy, but tonight was special for my brother. A celebration that I wasn't going to compromise on for the sake of appearances, even on a night like this. Because as of today, Elias is six months drug free. Not to mention, Kingston Entertainment's stocks are at an all-time high, having never trended downward since he took over leadership.

He's winning all around and was overdue for a margarita—or three. Which is why he's by far the drunkest person here, stumbling from painting to painting, smiling and snapping photos, despite the signs warning against doing so. But he's here showing support, and that's all that matters. Unlike our father, obviously, and our mother, who I didn't even bother calling, not wanting to hear her voicemail.

Although, Juliana's parents showed. They're around here somewhere, after having gushed endlessly over my showcase—and how beautiful of a couple their daughter and I make.

Amber and Raymond, Jeremy and Juliana—they're like my adopted family, and I'm grateful Elias is finally catching on to that fact.

I rest a hand on Jeremy, earning his immediate composure. "We'll invite you to the next dinner. And every one after that."

Jeremy sighs, and I feel Juliana release some tension as well, before he perks back up. "I know, man!" He pats my shoulder, his strength greater than he realizes, his gaze drifting toward a drawn-out crescendo, emanating from the piano across the gallery. "No worries, really. I was only—"

His entire body goes rigid. "Hold on…" He squints. "Is that… No, it can't be…"

Juliana whips her head, following her brother's stare. "Are you referring to the pianist?" Her brother just nods, incapable of forming syllables. "His name's Damien. That's all I really kno—"

Jeremy bolts from our vicinity, aiming for that grand piano, weaving between people like the man seated at its bench might disappear from thin air.

I blink… mimicking Juliana, before we exchange confused glances. I only shrug. "Who knew Jeremy was such a fan of classical music?"

"You should be so proud of yourself, Hayden."

As I guide us around the room still crowded with guests who shoot glances our way, I glance down at Juliana, only to find her already gazing back at me with adoration. It's the look every man dreams of and makes my heart clench every time.

"I'm serious," she presses, blushing when she notices me staring.

"I know you are, baby, and I am proud, but it's all thanks to you."

She deadpans, and God is it cute. Then I'm the one convincing her of my sincerity.

"And how's that?" she asks. "Every painting here is of your making, not mine."

We round a corner, exiting the East Gallery back into the main, starting up on a path we've walked several times now.

One by one, I glance at my paintings, each a testament to countless hours of work, noting the delicate white strokes at their bottom right corners that form the initials H and K. My signature still looks quite foreign to me, seeing as it's only graced the canvases for a short time, after months of Juliana's encouragement, chipping away the lies my father instilled so deeply within me.

At first, the process was gradual—sneaking out of my room at night like some meddling kid, just to sign a canvas. Just one. Then another, maybe three or five nights later. Until it all came crashing down at once and I signed every last one, so many my wrist was numb by sunrise.

I stop her suddenly in the throes of not-so-subtle onlookers who, in the wake of her beauty, may as well be the wind. Cupping her cheek, I sweep a thumb along her jawline, gazing down into her green eyes.

"That may be true, Juliana, but my paintings never would've made it to a showcase in the first place without your support. Without you, I wouldn't have signed a single one."

Emotions shimmer across her face, as she blinks to keep the tears at bay. She's quiet for a moment, before she says the closest words to my soul. "I love you."

I press a kiss to her forehead, reciprocating the sentiment on a soft murmur, while what I'd wager to be camera flashes shine past my eyelids. Juliana mumbles a curse, confirming my suspicions.

"Still not one for attention, are you, Jules?" I tease, offering her my arm once again, which she takes on instinct.

"I'm working on it."

We chuckle in unison, floating about the gallery's perimeter, until we complete our loop. "Nooow, do you want to go into the West Gallery?" Surely, she won't insist on another walk through, not when the west entrance opened over an hour ago, right…?

But against all odds, she does.

"Is that all this really is—you like going in circles?"

"Nooooo, that's not it."

My gaze narrows at her suspicious tone, contrary to her impenetrable poker face. "What's the reason, then?" Silence is her chosen response. "Juliana… Julesy-baby." She glares, but not a peep from those lips, so I soldier on. "Jujubee… Julipops… Julesy-Wulesy… Ju—"

She groans.

Thank God. I was running out of those.

"Stop it, stop it! Those nicknames are absolutely ridiculous. Have you just had those on the backburner this whole time? Fine. You want to know why I'm going in circles? It's because…"

I lean my ear close, anticipating some gossip relayed from Mei about the West Gallery, which I've yet to see.

"I'm deciding which painting to bid on."

My jaw falls slack.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Hayden."

I blink, dumbfounded. "But I let you choose the ones you wanted to keep in the penthouse after I did so. Plus, I'll paint anything you like."

She nudges me. "Where's the fun in that, huh?"

"I see how it is. One settlement later, and you're Miss Money Bags. Not that you needed it with that DreamScape feature coming up, and sticking right on target to be one of their Top Selling Games of the Year nominees. Gosh, with all those royalties, your head must be blown up like a balloon."

"That's not true!" She swats my arm in offense, while her eyes tell a whole different story. That perhaps I'm onto something.

"You sureee?" I purr in her ear, eliciting a shudder. "You know what I think? I think when I take you to another race, you'll be throwing down more cash than me."

"W-what?!" She gapes, lips sputtering. "Hayden Kingston,"— her sass sparks excitement through me—"I may have come across some money recently, but that doesn't make me a gambling addi—"

Noting my feline grin, she cuts herself short, returning me a flatlined look. A battle of wits that's sure to be settled later tonight. Preferably, between silky sheets. Or… elsewhere, if I'm so lucky.

"And what about your head?" she counters.

"What about it?"

"Between the two of ours, it's the one that must be inflated to the moon, given how every single painting of yours received bids."

She's right. Walking into this gallery tonight was like stepping into dreamland. Frankly, I didn't anticipate any bids, let alone a full sweep. It's something that hasn't really sunk in yet. Maybe it will in a month or two.

Or fifty.

I'll tell her all about it later, but for now… now I hit her with my signature gaze, the one formerly used to bring women of all walks of life to their knees, but is now reserved only for Juliana's pleasure.

She sucks in a breath, caught in my stare as we meander between the partition walls.

I wink. "Come on, baby. It's me, we're talking about. My ego's got no more room for inflation."

Another whack sounds against my suit lapel, followed up with a playful giggle, when I snatch Juliana's wrist, stopping us in front of the West Gallery. I flick my chin, gesturing to its open doors. "Are you gonna make me ask again?" I infuse a little warning in my tone.

She rolls her lips, a welcome distraction from the spike in my pulse as I await her answer. "Maaaybe…"

I chuckle low. "So that's how you want to play it, huh—" Juliana wrenches free from my grasp and bolts into the West Gallery, disappearing into the sea of people.

Oh, no, no, no…

I chase after her giggles, offering apologies as I squeeze past guests in the skinny hallway, until I break through the crowd at the heart of the small gallery. "Juliana, wait—"

But she's already there, right where I wanted her, gazing up in disbelief at the newest addition to my collection. Adorned with a gold frame, a large canvas takes up the center of the back wall, beneath rows of ambient spotlights.

I had it all planned, was going to message Mei, have her usher people out, but it seems most are doing that all on their own, recognizing the intimate moment.

"Is that… me?"

On airy steps, I approach her, until her curly locks brush the front of my suit, tickling my arms, and the top of her head grazes my chin. I murmur close to her ear, "Who else would it be?"

She leans back into me, her eyes tracing the lines of her portrait. This one took much longer than her other, and takes on a vastly different style. Most notably that it's not one particular scene or memory… but a scent.

Her signature rosy perfume, wafting through my nostrils this very instant, mingling with the real roses decorating the gallery and engulfing the entirety of the portrait's background. Clothed in a simple pair of jeans and a black tank top, Juliana seemingly lies in a bed of roses, made up of petals and pink-and-red roses, an exact match to those lined below the canvas.

Unlike the last time she discovered a self-portrait, no sappy emotions drip from her features, just… pure happiness. And somehow, it's even better. "How'd you manage to keep this one from me? It's even bigger than my birthday present."

"I have my ways."

"You matched the roses with the real ones. Wow…" Not veering her gaze, she sighs longingly and melts into my touch as I sweep a hand down her arm, leaving a wave of goosebumps. "And that necklace you painted on me is gorgeous."

I hold back a grin, my heart fluttering when I sink a hand into my pocket. "You think so?"

"Yeah. I've never seen anything like it. The attention to detail is incredible, more so than anything out in the main room."

"Sometimes, it helps to have a reference."

Her body tenses against mine, but before she can whip around, I crane my arms over her shoulders and flip open the delicate box, presenting her with a string of perfectly graded, flawless diamonds. A necklace of impeccable value, with a price tag just shy of twenty times that of the one I gifted her in high school.

"Hayden…" Her voice wobbles. "It's… unbelievable. I-I don't know what to say. It's absolutely beautiful."

"You don't have to say anything," I murmur, wanting nothing more than to hook the chain around her neck, anything of substantial worth to show the men of this world that she's mine.

A ring is better. For now, a necklace will suffice.

Gently, I sweep her hair off to one side. "It'll look even more beautiful on you."

Overcome with a fit of jittery excitement, she whirls around, closing her eyes. I snicker, watching her sneak a peek, confusion cinching her brow tightly.

"You have to face away, baby. Not toward me."

Eyes bulging, she twists back around, mumbling something below her breath, and when I loop the chain in place, a blush creeps up her neck. As I fiddle with the latch, she stares at the painting once again and gestures to the gold plaque below.

"It says this one's not eligible for bidding."

"Of course, it isn't. I'd never sell any portrait of you."

She looks to the side, catching my eye in her peripheral, a lock falling perfectly along her jaw. The irrefutable proof that no necklace or portrait will ever do her justice. "Then why bring it to the showcase at all?"

"Because, my sweetest Jules…" I hook the latch and bring my lips to her ear. "For one night only, everyone should have the pleasure to gawk at you."

Have you read the entire Silicon Billionaires series? Check out Book 1 & Book 2

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