The cats played in the mess, making it worse. Whatever, as long as they didn’t eat it. I finally saw what it was. It was about forty inches tall and slightly shorter across. It was a glass display case, full of taxidermy butterflies.
The wood was black—ebony. The case mocked a reptile’s terrarium, with a tree, dried flowers, and leaves. The butterflies were mounted on the tree, over its trunk and branches and the floor of the case as well—all kinds. Large, small, white, black, colorful. Nineteenth century, Great British origin. I already knew where I wanted to display it.
Who had sent it? Someone who knew I liked antique taxidermy. How many people was that? Brandon probably had never noticed over the two years we had dated, besides it was way out of his price range. Max knew. He had seen me covet his father’s butterfly dome when I’d been at the house. That object was already being shown; it was going to be auctioned off.
There was one other person who knew, but I didn’t want to think about him. I’d talked Zahira’s ear off about him already the couple of nights I’d spent in her house. She’d let me, but that didn’t mean I should just continue since I was alone then. I rifled through the chips for a note. There was a single piece of card taped to the back of the case. Handwritten.
For you. I know it’s not enough. I’m sorry.
It was signed L. Strickland. Like there were a lot of guys who bought me antiques. His handwriting was nice. Print, not cursive. It was written in red ink.
It was from Levi. What could have prompted this? Guilt? Or was it earnest? Was he just making good on his pussy payments?
I know it’s not enough. He was right. Not even close. Not even a little. I didn’t need him to buy me anything. I didn’t want him to spend his money on me. Spending money on me was apparently easier than opening up, however.
If I were more unhinged, I would have thrown it out the window. I knew, however, that it had had to have cost him at least three thousand dollars, so I hefted it across the room. I wanted it in my spare bedroom, the one I used to work on my calligraphy. I had a flat and raised desk in there, and if my estimates were accurate, it would just about fit across the flat desk, against the wall. I, however, left it by the door where I would figure out some way to return it to him at a later date.
I needed to get the fuck to sleep. Zahira’s couch was fine, but I’d been more tired than usual. Must have been the stress of work, compounded with the mindfuck that was Levi Strickland. His arrival in my life had just caused all sorts of upheaval, hadn’t it? Did he like me or didn’t he? How could he kiss me like he did then treat me like he didn’t? Why would he talk like he did, and send me gifts like he did, but basically fuck me from the other side of the room?
I hadn’t talked to Levi since the fight. Just a few days, but you had to take things a day at a time, right? This was my after period. I was coming back from the most disastrous rebound experience ever had. Well, this was my pre-after period. I wouldn’t feel like the after period really began until the auction was over and Levi Strickland was safely back in another time zone.
The public showings had begun. The auction was next Thursday and would end Sunday. The online auction would continue slightly longer. The lots that were not displayed were shown in the catalog; the collection was that big.
He hadn’t been back at Strickland’s after the blowout in the showing gallery. A good thing. The best thing. My life had to regain its past normalcy. Work, art, fraternizing with people I liked—things like that. Not being hounded by a bored billionaire. That was what he was, right? Had to be boredom. Why else would he try punching so far outside his weight class?
The next one, because there was another, was on my desk the morning the auction began. It was a small box. Smaller than the last one. Flatter. A gift box with a bow at the top. It was not my birthday. I opened it up sitting at my desk, pretending not to see some of my colleagues watching me.
The card, handwritten with the same message, sat on top of a platinum print of a photograph. I smiled recognizing it. Eugene de Salignac’s ‘Painters on the Brooklyn Bridge.’
I refused to feel touched, closing the box and stashing it under my desk. He was trying… something. I didn’t know what. I also didn’t care… didn’t want to care. Was going to pretend I didn’t till it was true. He was getting this one back as well. He was a captain of industry and insanely wealthy, so, obviously a psychopath. You couldn’t be if you weren’t, right? Powerful men are always dead behind the eyes. His eyes were almost intimidating to look into. Everything about him was overwhelming. It wasn’t even a question. I was doing the right thing.
The auction marked the beginning of the end; the end of the involvement I would have with the Strickland family. Except Celeste. During our lunch, I’d managed to do some shameless self-promotion. She was going to get in contact with me to put together her wedding invitations. Score. If there was anyone out of the three I wanted to keep around; it was her. She was so great.
Levi was a yes too, but the sort of yes that should have been a no. He was a no. A yes in my head and in other places, but a no in reality. For my sanity and the sake of the man out there who was truly the one I’ve been waiting for. The one who would open up and connect to me instead of making me feel every time we had sex was a fucking transaction.
Somewhere during the hours before we broke for lunch, I got a phone call. Checking who it was, I saw that it was Max Strickland. Levi had never had the courtesy to call before trying to see me before. I hadn’t thought it was him, but I did chastise myself a little for sort of wishing that it was.
“Hey, how are you?” I asked him picking up.
“I’m great, how are you?”
“Good. The auction’s finally begun. Your dad’s collection is amazing, but I won’t be sad to see it all go,” I said. He laughed.
“You’ve done an amazing job. I came to one of the showings.”
“And you didn’t drop by to say hi?” I accused jokingly.
“I wanted to. I couldn’t find you. I wanted to ask you this in person.” My eyebrows raised. What could Max Strickland possibly have to ask me that he’d preferred to say in person?
“What?”
“I’m hosting a dinner. Tonight. It’s for the third-party guarantors that bid on different pieces.”
My eyes widened. The third-party guarantors? The ghost buyers? Oh, this was exciting. We never got to know who the third-party guaranteed buyers were. Their identities were always kept secret.
“Really? Can I ask why?”
“The proceeds are going to charity. They’re basically making private donations to the Strickland Foundation through their purchases. I think it’s important to appreciate them.”
I said I understood, but I didn’t. He was talking rich person; I couldn’t relate. Was he rewarding them for their charity or was I misunderstanding him? Had I been doing charity wrong my whole life?
“What can I do to help?” I offered.
“You could accompany me. Be my date.”
“Hm, your date?” I asked.
“No pressure. People usually attend these things accompanied. If I could choose anyone I wanted to go with, I’d choose you,” he said. I smiled. Charming, he was that. He was choosing me. I felt like the most special Pokémon.
“You said this was tonight?”
“Yeah. I’m hosting it at my house.” His house. Hadn’t been there before.
“Notice is a little short,” I quipped.
“I know. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me this next indiscretion?” he asked.
“What?”
“I got you a dress. It should be delivered to you at work by this afternoon.” I stifled a laugh. It was like when you were rich; you didn’t have to have shame anymore. Why would he get me a dress before asking me whether I was even coming? He obviously thought I was going to say yes. He assumed he already had an in. Presumption. That’s not attractive, Mr. Strickland.
“My God, Max. Anyone would think I had said yes already,�
�� I challenged him.
“If I’m honest, I was hoping to reduce the chances that you might say no,” he said.
I smiled. If nothing else I admired his tenacity.
“What are your expectations of a plus one?” I asked him.
“Impress people. Dazzle them with your knowledge and beauty. Make every guy in there jealous of me.” I sighed.
“I’m not comfortable dating you, Max,” I said honestly.
“Don’t call it a date then. I just want you to come with me. You have been such a large part of the auction; people would love to meet you. You might even be able to network.”
It wasn’t like I would be busy doing something else. I hadn’t talked to Zahira, but who knew whether she would be free. It was not a date. It was just dinner with the sort of people who could afford to collect art and antiques like they were stamps or baseball cards. Basically, the person I would be given a bank account boost of several billion dollars. It could be fun. What the heck.
“I’ll come. What time is it?”
“Eight o’clock. Tell me where you live. I’ll send a car for you.”
How was this different from the lunch I had had with Celeste and Levi? It wasn’t different. It was the same, meaning it was casual. It wasn’t a date. It was like when celebrities took their parents or siblings with them to red carpet events. Alright, it wasn’t the same as that, but it was still not a date. I wouldn’t have agreed to go on a date with him. I didn’t want to lead him on. I also wasn’t going to have sex with him after. Definitely not. I’d learned my lesson.
Work that day was a lot of private appraisals that I had had to put off because of the Strickland collection. The Strickland auction wasn’t going to be the last one we ever had. There were catalogs to put together. Research to do. The dress came when he said it would. I didn’t actually see it until I got home, though. My first question was how the hell he knew what size to get? The next question was what criteria had he used to choose it? Had he even chosen it?
It was red. Floor length. It was a gown. What the hell kind of dinner party warranted wearing something like that? I saw the name on the label and hoped to God the designer had loaned it to him—that he hadn’t bought it.
Zahira called me asking whether she could come over. I told her she was out of luck that night. I was heading out. My dealings with Max were harmless; she hadn’t been hearing his name as much as Levi’s. I didn’t consider the brothers to be in any sort of competition for my affection. Both of them were off the table. I was waiting for my prince to come and his last name was not Strickland.
I should have known Max would live in Marin. Back again to the scene of the crime. This whole mess had started in Marin, and I was returning as the dust settled. It suddenly hit me that I might see Levi at the dinner. It hit me; then it terrified me. I was not ready for that confrontation. He had no boundaries; there was no telling what he would do, regardless of who was around.
Instead of a mansion, Max lived in a penthouse apartment. He was waiting for me in the foyer when a man led me inside. How fancy. The space was large and open. There were a few people there already. I was handed champagne and after all the guests had arrived and we were being seated for dinner, and none was a tall man with a shaved, tattooed head.
I could finally breathe.
15
Levi
I always turned my phone off on airplanes. You didn’t really have to. Your iPhone wouldn’t take the aircraft down, but it was a pretty good excuse not to have to talk to anyone.
The auction was the reason I had to be back in the Bay. Ostensibly. If anyone asked that was what I would tell them. We didn’t have to mention the real reason why because I was going, regardless.
It didn’t make sense, but I had been doing a lot of things that didn’t make sense lately. I had been doing a lot of things that I knew were the wrong things, but did them anyway. I couldn’t stay away. If I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her. Not even thinking about fucking her all the time, just being with her. I wasn’t, and whenever I wasn’t, it was a problem. It was an even bigger problem that she was there and Max was too. I never thought I’d see the day I was jealous of Max, but shit. It was here.
I was flying private because I wanted to be alone. The only available flight back to San Francisco was the red-eye anyway, and I didn’t want to deal with that. This way I’d land in San Francisco International and not have to deal with trying to get to Pacific Heights from Oakland. When I got back, I’d just stay at the Pacific Heights condo and call her, like a normal person. We’d talk, and with any luck, our conversation wouldn’t end with her saying she never wanted to see me again.
One of these days she’d say it and mean it. She most likely already meant it. One of these days, I might actually listen when she said it and never seek her out again. The second option was a near impossibility. It would take… a lot, for me to never try seeing her again. Everything that had happened thus far though; not enough.
Vanessa and the rest of Dad’s staff had all left the Marin house. Lindsay had arranged for a taxi to get me to Pacific Heights, however, so it didn’t matter that I didn’t have a car. I was tired. I couldn’t sleep on planes, the droning sound you heard in the cabin just made me anxious. I looked at all the messages I’d missed while in the air. There were several; too many from Max, going on about this dinner he was having at his house that had something to do with the auction.
He read the same way he sounded. Blustery and obnoxious. Had I told him that I had been back in New York? Probably not; there were a couple demanding to know where I was, telling me he didn’t like having an empty spot at the table, that people were expecting me, plus some threats—none he would actually act on.
Then there was a picture. It was a woman photographed from the back. She was wearing a red dress, her hair was black, and it was all rolled and pinned up. It was a phone quality picture—he’d taken it himself. There was a message attached.
I thought the red went well with her eyes. She looks beautiful tonight.
I hated Max at the best of times, but right then, I was livid. Why else would he send me a picture of a woman, that particular woman, unless he knew it would get to me? He was with Audra. Audra was with him. How had he convinced her to go out with him? How much had happened while I was in New York?
I felt rage. So sharp, I could feel it course through me. I wanted to punch Max in his stupid mouth. I felt genuinely insulted. He was doing this to bait me.
He thought the red would look good on her? He had bought her a fucking dress and was going to trot her out like a prize terrier. I felt deeply territorial. I wanted to rip that dress off of her because it came from him. Well. He wanted to get me to come? This was the way to do it.
I didn’t make it to Pacific Heights that night. I told the driver to leave my luggage with the doorman after taking me to Marin. Max had never moved out of Marin. He hadn’t even moved out of Mill Valley. He had a penthouse about four miles from Dad’s old place. It was about nine o’clock; there was a chance dinner was over already.
It was a pretty nice development; I had to give him that. We hadn’t done it, but it was a great find. It had a pool and deck that looked out over the water. I was led inside by a man he’d probably hired to do that tonight—he didn’t have a butler. As I had suspected, dinner was over, but everyone was out on the deck, socializing. I didn’t care to try to recognize any of them; I had my eye out for that red dress.
She was standing with an older woman. They were talking. Her face was bright and smiling like she was when she talked about art, the way she looked in the library with Sissy. She was breathtaking standing there. Her makeup made her face more severe, but still gorgeous. Whatever they were talking about, she looked like she was right in her element. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking at. Maybe she did this often. My mind went straight to every ball, fundraiser and dinner I’d ever suffered through. I saw her there, with me. Charming and charismatic. She’d make t
hose staid, boring events worth attending.
I walked up to them, excusing myself to the older woman. After giving me her condolences and then saying some shit I didn’t care to retain about the auction, she left Audra and me alone. I looked at her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to drag her out of there.
“You look beautiful,” I said, controlling myself.
“Thank you.” I took a step closer to her. She glanced around us to see who might have been watching. I didn’t care.
“Turn around,” I told her.
“Why?”
I held her shoulder and moved behind her. Her hair was up. I started pulling the clips and pins free.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Hold still. I don’t want to pull it.” She let me pull out the pins holding her hair up, so it tumbled around her shoulders. I just wanted to touch her. I didn’t care who saw. I leaned into her ear.
“I’m not leaving you here with him,” I told her.
“You can’t tell me who I can and can’t spend my time with.”
I spotted Max watching us. He had been the entire time we’d been talking.
“I’m serious, Audra. Max probably doesn’t want you to leave, but he won’t stop me when we do.”
“Why are you so sure I’m going anywhere with you?” she asked. I shoved the pins in my pocket and ran a hand through her hair. She turned to look at me.
“I’ve been wrong about you before, but I’m not wrong about this. You want to come with me. Either you tell Max you have to leave or I will.” I pressed a kiss to her cheek, friendly enough to be mistaken for polite.
I started heading out, walking back through the house to the foyer where I called for a car. She was coming with me. That was what she wanted to do, I knew it. I heard footsteps behind me and turned, seeing Max’s red face instead of Audra’s red dress.
Levi (Heartbreakers & Troublemakers Book 4) Page 11