CHAPTER SIX

Luca

He’d distracted me. He’d relaxed me. Between Grey and the champagne, I wasn’t feeling nervous anymore. Now I was feeling turned on. His eyes, his voice, the way he spoke with no apologies for who he was and what he did. I was into it. I was into him. We were staring at each other, existing and breathing and connecting without sound. There was something here, something between us.

Grey was the first to break the silence. “You ready for this?”

I nodded. The show, him, to face all the people on the other side of the door. I was ready for it all. I didn’t care which came first. I’d never felt this way before, no one had ever given me chills with their voice alone.

He leaned forward, his cheek brushing against mine and his chest pressing me back against the desk. I drew in a deep inhale, pushing us tighter together in the process. “Then let’s go.” He pulled back and handed me the champagne flute he’d been reaching for. There was another devilish smirk on his lips and a wink for added measure as he took a few steps back, away from me.

Seconds later the door opened, almost like Grey had sensed we were about to be interrupted. Maykin was standing there with her eyes closed and a wince on her face. Grey chuckled, “Mom. If you were that worried, why didn’t you knock?”

She opened one eye, and then both. “I’m impressed, son.”

“You told me to behave, so I did.”

I bit my lips together, now understanding why he hadn’t made a move when I was so clearly telling him he could.

“I was a perfect gentleman, right Luca?”

“Yes.” I straightened, flute in hand. “He was very well behaved.”

“Well, that’s a first, but I’ll take it.” Maykin held the door open wider. “The gallery is at capacity, and you’ve already sold your first piece.”

“Are you serious?” I was overjoyed, I also couldn’t help but be skeptical. “Wait, did someone I’m related to purchase it?”

Maykin shook her head. “No sweetheart, this buyer is a collector from Houston. I’ve known him for a couple of years now, and he has no connection to RiffRaff, The Devil’s Share, Clashing Swell, or Revival Ink. I promise.”

Well, that covered all my family and friends. “Wait. Did he happen to be a huge “fan” of my dad’s modeling career?” My dad was exceptionally popular back in the day. Like girls had cut outs of him in their lockers and men fan boy’d.

I was hesitant to think that this was real. That my work was outside, in Maykin’s gallery and selling to people who didn’t care that I was related to ultra-famous rockstars.

Maykin shrugged. “That one I can’t say, but he is married to a wonderful woman and they have three grown children.” She rubbed her hand on my back. “Make your rounds Luca. They love your work.”

I glanced behind me, catching Grey’s eye before I stepped outside the safety of the office. He winked and it was all the encouragement I needed.

***

The next four hours passed in a blur of introductions and praise, including lots of hugs and kisses and congratulations from my family. And sales. All the paintings sold. Every single one of them. I couldn’t believe it. The entire night had been so surreal. Now it was late, the champagne was gone, as was the crowd. It was me, my parents, Maykin, Bleu, and Grey. We were polishing off the last of the hors’oeuvres and I was double checking the database to ensure no one I was related to had purchased any of my art.

“Adding up those totals? Going to go buy more Prada gothic wear?” Grey perched on the corner of Maykin’s desk, legs out and arms crossed. His tattooed forearms caught my eye and I licked my lips to check for drool.

Grey Salinger did it for me, no doubt. He was gorgeous, but his playfully self-assured attitude is what really cinched it. It was hard to find that perfect balance between endearing and cocksure, but he walked it like a tight rope expert.

I forced my gaze away from him and back to the computer screen. “I’m making sure no one I know bought a painting. My great uncles love to spend money, and my family would buy every piece I created if they thought it would make me feel accomplished.”

“Mmmm, well you’re going to be pissed.”

“Why?” I brought my face closer to the screen, scrolling to look for the culprit. I’d already researched five buyers and hadn’t come up with anything suspicious. “Was it my grandpa? He isn’t even coming to see the paintings until tomorrow.” I stopped, seeing a name I never expected. “You bought one?” I sat back, looking up at Grey. “Really?”

I was flattered. He knew art. He had to. It was running through his veins in the form of tattoo ink and acrylics. His parents were art incarnate, both sides of the spectrum.

“Really.” He shrugged. “I like your style. I like that unless you look closer, you’re not really getting it. I like that you show the world a pretty picture in a sweater set. But your art is actually dark and fucking filthy.”

Filthy was a stretch. But I’d take it. I hid the fun stuff behind the safety of a landscape or a still life. “I was so little when I started painting. It was always flowers and fields, and pretty pictures that would make my mom smile. I started hiding things in my paintings when I was fifteen. I used to put everything I didn’t want to say out loud inside them. The things I couldn’t tell my parents, the things I got away with. And it progressed from there. The older I got, the more bored I became.”

“I know something about that.” He wrinkled his nose. “I was so bored I threw a rave in the middle of campus. I knew I would get caught. Hell, I think I wanted to get caught.”

“You wanted to go to jail?”

“No. That I didn’t see coming.” He cleared his throat. “I pushed it, and my parents, too far this time. I was craving excitement or something. Looking for the line, the boundary. So I could cross it.” He held his finger and thumb up. “A few inches.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, smiling. “I think I’m always looking for the line too.” I liked talking to Grey, I liked feeling like someone understood me, saw me. “It became fun, a game I was playing with myself.”

He squatted down so we were eye level. He seemed to enjoy getting into my personal space, and I wasn’t complaining. “I like your art.” He put his knuckle under my chin. “I like your game.”

I’d watched him, all night, even when I didn’t want to. He drew my attention, and I’d found myself searching the gallery to see where he was, what he was doing. He didn’t meet a stranger. He was so good at small talk and introductions, he put people at ease and he made them laugh. He was dressed in black, covered in tattoos and piercings. He should’ve come across hard and menacing, yet he was Zoloft in human form.

“I thought your mom told you not to touch me?”

He smiled. No, he smirked. “Just looking for that line to cross, baby.”

I licked my lips again, and this time his eyes tracked the motion. There was something here, something between us. I could feel it, like water on a simmer begging to boil. “I leave tomorrow.”

“All I need is one night.”

“What about your parents?” I knew his mom had warned him away from me, but from the way his dad tracked him all night, I think he had as well. I understood where Maykin and Bleu came from. I understood the way they saw me, and why they were trying to save me. But I didn’t want saving. I wanted Grey.

“Your show sold out, you’re no longer my mom’s artist.” He stood, his hand slipping from my chin to grasp my throat. The fire in his gaze, the slight flex of his fingers against my flesh. I was powerless. “You’re mine.” The deep possession in his tone had my last thread of hesitation snaping and floating to the ground. Even if he didn’t really mean it, even if I would never truly be his. I was more than okay with pretending.

“Okay.” Acceptance slipped past my lips so easily, almost without thought. I’d accomplished what I set out to do. I created art I was proud of. I got a gallery showing all on my own, and then I’d sold every piece. I was making my own money. I was making my own path. I’d proven to myself and my family that I’d made the right choice.

I wanted to celebrate. I wanted to celebrate with Grey in the dark. Him and me and the stars. No one and nothing else. I wanted this for me. I wanted to be selfish and young.

“Tell your parents you want to go home, okay?” Grey used his hold on my throat to bring me to my feet and I swear I could feel my panties melting off my body. Everything he did was exactly right, like he had a road map of my desire. “Follow my lead?”

I nodded, biting my lower lip, not sure how else to answer him. I didn’t trust my voice not to come out all affected and breathy.

I wanted to be cool like him.

Like this was a game we were now playing together and I could hold my own.