head to the left.
“Come with me. We’ll talk in my office.”
Stepping inside, she closes the door and lifts a few catalogs from a seat to toss on a nearby table.
“You’ll have to forgive the mess. My daughter is due in four months and I’m falling behind with everything here.”
“It’s fine,” I say, taking a seat on one side of her desk while she takes a seat on the other. Blue eyes meet mine, amusement glimmering behind them.
“One million dollars is an awful lot of money for a few photographs.”
Her lips curve into a wicked grin as she pulls a ledger in front of her and opens it. “You only paid a quarter of that last time, if I remember correctly.”
I say nothing.
She grabs a pen and holds it over the ledger page without writing a damn word. When her blue eyes meet mine again, she grins.
“Why are you paying this much, Ari? You could have had them all for much less.”
Leaning back in my seat, I cross an ankle over a knee and stare back at her.
“Does it matter? Just fill out the paperwork and show me where to sign.”
“Have you even seen the photos?”
“No.”
“How long have you been in love with Adeline?”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about?”
A crook of her eyebrow as she looks down at the page and starts writing. “She’s married, you know?”
“To a dick,” I say, unworried that she’ll share my opinion with anyone else.
An odd expression crosses her face. “There’s something to be said for assholes.”
“Fun ones, yes. But he’s not the type.”
Glancing up, she laughs and slides the ledger my direction before dropping the pen on the page. “Sign there and the photos are yours.”
While I’m scrawling my name across the page, she sits back in her seat, her voice curious. “Are you a fun one?”
I drop the pen and shove the ledger her direction.
“No, I’m a dick as well, but for different reasons. Are we done now?”
A shake of her head. “Just like my husband.”
Standing, she cradles her stomach again, her free hand splaying over the desk to catch her balance.
“You can pay me when you pick up the photos. I’ll go ahead and walk out there. Give it a few minutes before following. That way nobody knows who the secret buyer is.”
Rebecca leaves the room, and I stab two hands through my hair, my fingers curling to pull at the ends of it. Frustration rides me like a cheap whore, and I consider walking out to leave entirely. Never looking back. Returning to my life like Lincoln has been begging me to do, and forgetting I ever knew Adeline.
Even while considering the thought, I know I won’t leave. I can’t. She’s a compulsion that ensnares me. A trap that I can’t free myself from unless I get desperate enough to chew my fucking leg off and crawl away bleeding.
She doesn’t enjoy being with Grant.
But she wants to be with me.
That has to count for something. So, rather than walking the fuck out of this gallery like an intelligent man would do, I push to my feet and crack the door enough to ensure nobody will see me leaving the office.
I slip from the room and casually stroll into the showroom as if I’d just arrived, my gaze catching Adeline’s when she turns to see the newcomer.
Again, she’s standing with Rebecca and the other woman I don’t recognize, a strange look on her face that I can’t interpret.
Over the years, I’ve memorized every expression, every habit, every reaction, everything there is to know about this woman.
And it kills me that I can’t read her thoughts now.
She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t approach. Doesn’t make any move that shows she’s pleased to see me.
Instead, she turns back to the people she’s with, Rebecca’s blue eyes lifting just enough to find mine, a slight tilt to her head directing my attention to the photos displayed.
I look at the first one and damn near march over to rip it from the wall.
Not because I want to destroy it. Not because it causes my pulse to become jagged, my muscles to go rigid, my eyes to become laser focused on every detail there is to see about it.
But because it’s a private moment I’m not willing to share with the world.
I step up to the large print, glancing at the title card to the side of it.
Defile.
That’s what she named it. And when my gaze returns to the image, I