by Kenya Wright
He raised the right side of his lip into a sneer. “Is it Michael? Did he do something to you?”
Rage blazed in his eyes. If I hadn’t seen it for myself and someone just told me that Alvarez could look that angry, I would’ve thought they were liars. Fury radiated from him. I let go of his hands and inched back. There was no way I would tell him about how Michael treated me. I got the feeling that if I did, then Alvarez would do something bad.
I forced an awkward smile. “You’re a protector type, huh?”
“At times.” He stared at my hand, the one he’d been holding. “I don’t like it when someone hurts another. Now don’t lie, was it Michael?”
“No.” The lie came out so simple.
“Will you ever tell me who?”
“Maybe.”
“Let’s hope this guy is far away from me when you do.”
Chapter 4
Alvarez
That can’t happen again. Whatever that was when I grabbed her hand, it can’t happen.
Pain throbbed at the front of my head. I popped two aspirin in my mouth, took the glass from my assistant’s hand, and swallowed it all down as I climbed the stairs to my office. A long list of things to do ran in my head.
“Okay. Catch me up on what you’ve done today.” Reece took the glass back. Her blonde curls bounced with the speed of our pace. She opened her mouth and panted a little, desperately trying to hold onto the glass, notepad in her arms, and phone in her other hand. I stopped. “Am I walking too fast?”
“Just a little.” She gasped.
I took the glass away from her and set it on the floor. Our cleaning staff was on point with their tasks. I knew the glass would be there no more than a minute or so. The head chief of cleaning ordered her servants to do four to five patrols of the estate each hour.
“Remember. When I push you too far, you have to tell me.” I wiped the little beads of sweat off her forehead with my hand and regretted it immediately.
She blushed. “I’m sorry, sir.”
I hated when she apologized. She never did anything wrong, and the few times she made a mistake it was never really significant enough to warrant a “sorry.” But that wasn’t really the biggest problem between us.
Last week, she left a voice mail message and declared in a stutter of drunken slurring that she loved me. For all these years of us working together, I would’ve never thought that would’ve happened. She wasn’t ugly in any way. In fact, any man would’ve found her captivating. I just didn’t feel that way about her, and if I had to be truly honest with myself, she was just too damn good of a personal assistant to mess up with a sexual relationship. Because that’s all it would’ve been, sex a few nights and then a conclusion after a few weeks. I never had time for serious dating. My family kept me busy and emotionally drained. I didn’t possess much to give to anybody else, not time or love, not compassion nor the motivation for anything more. I’d explained that to Reece the next morning in the most uncomfortable meeting in our business relationship. Things had been unsteady ever since.
I shouldn’t have touched her. Why in the hell did I do that? Because she’s like a little sister at times and I would’ve wiped her head like that if she was my sister.
“No, Reece. I’m sorry. That was entirely inappropriate of me just now.”
“I don’t mind that.” Again, the blush appeared.
Dang it.
I cleared my throat and started walking. “Okay. Let’s continue. You were going to tell me about the earlier meeting.”
“When you didn’t show up an hour ago, I carried on the meeting with Detective White for you. Was that okay?”
“Yes. Feel free to work with him on your own any time when I’m caught up in other things. What did you discuss?”
“I gave him the address for the morgue the body was taken to and all of the model’s information. He’s walking around on the second level asking the few artists left if they’ve seen anything.”
“He won’t tell them what happened, right?”
“No.” Reece pushed her glasses back up on the bridge of her nose. “I made sure to tell him that discretion was necessary.”
“That’s good, but there’s going to be a point when you and I will have to reveal a lot of my family’s private information to the police. That’s fine. I just want our lawyers receiving the reports of what we say before the police get it.” I made it to the second flight with that steady drumming in my head and the scent of Elle on my hand. What type of fragrance did she wear? I sniffed my fingers, and oranges and flowers came to my mind.
Orange blossoms, maybe. Were there any such things as orange blossoms? It had to be that.
“I also booked flights for all of the remaining artists and writers on the property. I notified Hex like you asked. He approved most and they will be leaving in two days. There is a small group that will remain until the end of the summer to help Hex finish his collection.”
“How small?”
“Twenty people.”
I would need even more guards to guarantee their safety. “That’s too many. I’ll have to talk to Hex about getting rid of them. Put it on my to-do list for this week.”
My assistant tried to hand me the sheet of paper of what she’d written so far. I motioned for her to keep it. Reece had been efficient since the first day I hired her ten years ago. There was no need to check her work anymore. She was about the only person who listened to me and followed every order accordingly.
“As to not cause any concern, I had the chefs create a big five course meal and prepare a sort of goodbye party for tomorrow night. Hex heard about what I planned and decided to go bigger with the celebration. Melody has the staff decorating the dining area and main living room. Musicians were invited as well as magicians.”
Musicians and Magicians?
I gritted my teeth. “So he’s excited?”
“Yes. You wouldn’t believe half of the things he wants me to get on this list.”
Good. I couldn’t deal with him breaking down anymore.
“Did he go alone?”
“No. His new model left with him. Elle, I think.”
My brother roams Miami in a limo with a beautiful woman while I rush around this gaudy property, trying to keep all of our heads above water.
“Is security following them both?”
“Yes. There are four guys. One is in the limo in front with the driver. The other three are following them in cars and were told to blend in and not scare Hex.”
“Good. Let me know when they return. Maybe I can sit down and have a dinner with him or something. Do I have time in my schedule?”
“Actually, you and Hex are supposed to be at the opening for X-Lab tonight.”
I hit my forehead. “Oh God. How could I forget that?”
“Well, you did see a dead body today.”
“True, but Hex has been obsessed with this gallery for years.”
It must’ve taken Hex two to three years to get the investors interested in the idea. Many of the people who helped with the production were edgy art enthusiasts like himself. We found an old shoe factory in North Miami, had the construction workers gut it, build on it more, and construct a massive building that provided two levels with lots of space.
Hex dreamed that X-Lab would be the first art gallery in the United States focused solely on performance, video, and installation art exhibits. There would be no paintings, drawings, sculptures or any of the other traditional works many anticipated in a typical gallery or museum. X-Lab would present experimental works as well, things that were too controversial or graphic for other curators. That fact pushed me on edge. Once an artist became obsessed with a particular idea, social norms, concepts of humanity, and ethics fell to the side.
We held an application approval process for the new artists who longed for their works to be in the opening. The installation art deemed the easiest to pick through. The artists submitted mini models of their work, which tended to be small enou
gh to put on my desk and analyze. The installation genre consisted of three-dimensional works that were usually designed to transform the perception of a space. Most of the applicants sought to use natural elements to speak about global warming and recycling. Others longed to create interactive installations where the audience acted on the piece and/or the work responded to the audience’s activities. Picking the installations served as the easiest part of the task.
Unlike the other artistic genres, which gave me a headache as I read them. More than fifty percent of the video and performance ideas shocked the crap out of me. The other fifty put me at unease. One female artist sought to have a corner in the gallery where she could sit in a lawn chair naked, hold a holy cross made of two dildos, and masturbate to it. She claimed the performance would trigger the viewers to think about sex and religion. Hex considered her a genius. I kept my words to myself and ripped up the application. Some of the video artists involved a lot of shock in their works—most did awkward things with razors and knives, some explored sexuality in the most profane ways, and then the truly morbid studied the notion of death by dissecting corpses with children’s toys. Hex and I battled those days and compromised on allowing some of the less offensive to trickle through.
“I should get down to X-Lab and make sure everything is on schedule.” And not liable to get us locked up for presenting it.
Reece shook her head. “You already delegated a pretty efficient team for that project. I’ve gone down there and confirmed that ninety-five percent of the installations are set up. The video art works with no problem and all people doing performances know what they are doing and where.”
“Thank you. What time is the opening again?”
“Eight.”
I checked my watch and realized I had a few hours. I’m not sure why but I sniffed my hand again. “Is there such thing as an orange blossom? I’ve heard of cherry ones.”
“Orange blossoms, sir?” She raised her blonde eyebrows.
“Do they exist?”
“Why, yes. They definitely are real. It’s our state flower.”
“So people make perfume out of it.”
“Sure. Lots of them. My mother used to add them to wedding bouquets when she worked at a big florist in Ocala. On Valentine’s Day people would mix them with rose arrangements since they’re believed to be an aphrodisiac.”
“Get me some orange blossom candles for my office and bedroom.”
Without asking me why, Reece wrote it down. It was why I paid her so much. She knew when to speak up and the right moment to keep her mouth closed. I didn’t need her inquiries on why I longed for that fragrance. Not that I had an answer myself. I just needed her to get the scent to my private space as soon as she could because I didn’t plan on being around Elle anymore, even though I craved to touch her skin again and inhale her sweet perfume. Too much surged between us. It was sizzling and sparked something inside of me. I could have wet my finger, stuck it into a wall socket, and not gotten the shock I’d received from just one touch of Elle’s hand.
Not again. She is here to keep Hex busy, not me. Elle will serve her purpose this summer and then be gone. Besides, she has her own drama trailing behind her.
Grandma envisioned a man after her, a bad one who called her Ellie. I’d bet that bastard Michael was the guy. Who else could it be? I didn’t follow his career, but everyone recognized his Archangel series. It must’ve been twenty massive paintings of Elle nude, her hair flying high in the air and separated like wings. I’d gotten a hard-on at the premiere. Galleries enjoyed showcasing artists with a lot of drama. Displaying Michael and Hex’s collections together, two artists who made it a point to publicly ridicule each other, was a no brainer. The press went crazy. Critics, fans, and enthusiasts packed the place. All compared their work throughout the night, running from room to room. Michael’s stuff was on the west side of the building, Hex on the east. By the end of the evening, hordes of baffled art lovers congregated in the center of the building, unsure of which one was the best.
And now Michael’s Archangel will be modeling for Hex. When I notify our publicist, she’ll have a happy orgasm in selling this. It will be the top news in the art world for the whole summer.
The only question remained was would Michael be a problem. If he hurt her, then it wouldn’t be wise for him to come here. It wasn’t that I had a special feeling for her or anything. I just didn’t appreciate guys taking advantage of women. That was all. Nothing more.
“Schedule a meeting with Hex’s publicist. I want her to know about Elle posing for him. It may get us some more backers.”
“Should I put together a small media package, too, on the art collection and what it will be about?” Reece scribbled the note.
“No.”
Hex remained hushed on what the subject matter of his collection would be about. If I focused too much on that tiny predicament, then I would have an aneurism. Anytime he kept his art secret, it meant that I would be pissed at the reveal. Discovering the focus of his collection would have to be dealt with soon, before he went too far with whatever he had planned.
Maybe I could ask Elle to tell me what they’re doing? No. I can’t hang around her anymore. Besides, she’s already seen the crazy side of Hex, Grandma, and me, and was ready to rush off. Having her spy on my brother would probably not sit right with her.
“The limo will be here at 6:30 p.m. to pick Hex and you up.” Reece interrupted my thoughts. “Your tuxedo is in your bedroom. Should I make arrangements for Hex’s new model to come with us? I know Hex enjoys showing his new models off when he can.”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t enjoy the anticipation bubbling in my chest from the fact that I might see Elle again. It shouldn’t have even happened. She was only a beautiful woman. I’d seen many in my life.
But none who gave me an electric surge.
Chapter 5
Elle
My phone read thirty-five missed calls from Michael.
Will there be a certain point when my phone stops counting missed calls?
Michael’s messages flooded the inbox to the point where I was sure no one else could leave a message. Not that anyone else called me. I never truly made friends with anybody and had chosen to stay to myself or dedicate all of my time to Michael.
Not anymore.
I shut my phone off and leaned my head against the window as the driver steered the limo toward South Beach. Hex sat silent in the far corner with his thumb in his mouth and his face toward his door. He hadn’t said anything the whole thirty minutes we’d been in the car.
“If I knew you weren’t going to talk, I would have never come.” It was my tenth attempt at starting conversation. My patience evaporated on my fifth try. Alvarez’s personal assistant, Reece, had organized this shopping trip and explained that Hex would be throwing a goodbye party for all of his friends. She’d handed me a credit card and told me to use it for my clothes and his.
“So how many people are going to be at the party?” I shifted in my seat. “Will it be a theme or simple dinner affair?”
He removed his thumb. Small bubbles and saliva saturated the fat finger. “Would you please shut up?”
“Excuse me?”
“Be quiet. You’ve been running your mouth the whole time.” He stuffed his thumb back into his mouth and leaned his head against the back of the seat.
“Well, I’m going to keep talking just on the principle that I don’t let guys who still suck their thumbs like a baby tell me what to do.” I showed him my middle finger.
“Is this how Michael taught you to be a model?” He didn’t even look my way, figuring the fact that he’d brought up my ex-boyfriend’s name would probably silence me. Hex was wrong. It only pissed me off.
“Do you realize how absurd your being rude to me is? The very fact that your finger is lodged in your mouth negates any barb you have to sling at me.”
“Have mercy. Now I know why Michael fired you.”
“He di
dn’t fire me. I left.”
That got his attention. He slid his thumb out an inch, yet the tip still remained between his lips. “Why?”
“I didn’t like working for him anymore.”
“Why?”
“Your turn. Why have you been sitting in the car this whole time, moping and suckling your finger like a newborn baby?”
“Did you really see a dead body leave the property?”
He’s still worried about the possibility of the dead girls. He should be.
“I didn’t see a dead girl.” It wasn’t a lie. I hadn’t seen her, just the body bag she lay in. “There shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Is that why you’re worried? You’re scared you’re in danger?”
“No. Nothing would happen to me.” He pulled the thumb all the way out of his mouth. “I just don’t want the killing to start again.”
My heart stopped. My stomach knitted in pain. “Killing? Again?”
Hex raked his fingers through his hair. “Forget what I just said. It’s something that happened a long time ago. When I was young, a tragedy happened around me. I can’t deal with too many people dying.”
My body relaxed. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He shoved that thumb back into his mouth.
“Would you please stop with the freaking finger? It’s not only disgusting, but it will ruin your teeth and the skin on your thumb. Not to mention, I could go on and on about how ridiculous you look.”
“It’s how I soothe myself.”
“Goodness gracious. Why not get a freaking addiction that’s less embarrassing?” I scooted over to the bar within the limo’s interior wall. “Have a drink with me like an adult.”
“I don’t drink much and when I do, it’s hard to stop, so I don’t.”
“Instead, you just suck your thumb?” I rolled my eyes. “As if that’s the most reasonable thing to do.”
He raised one eyebrow, opened his lips, and chuckled. “Are you ever going to let my thumb sucking go?”
“No.” I yanked out two small wine glasses and a long bottle of white wine. “In fact, I feel it’s my duty this summer to get you over that raunchy habit.”