The doorbell rang and she was startled out of her reminiscing. Grabbing her evening purse and shawl from the bed, she practically ran to the front door and swung it open. Good Lord, he was gorgeous standing on her doorstep in what she believed was an Armani tuxedo which had to have been made for him because the fit was perfect. The five o'clock shadow which had graced his jaw the night before was gone and she wanted to rub her hand across the soft, recently shaven skin. There wasn't a thing out of place from the top of his dark-haired head to the tips of his shiny, formal black shoes, and the man exuded power, authority and, most of all, sex. She was sure she'd be fighting the women away from him tonight. When she took a deep breath, his cologne hit her nose and she almost swooned. It was her favorite–Oud Wood by Tom Ford–and knowing he wore it with her in mind made her lightheaded.
It took a moment for her to realize they were both silently staring at each other when he cleared his throat. "I'm going to be the envy of every man at the gala tonight. Angel, you look stunning."
As she blushed from his compliment, her eyes almost filled up. No one had called her 'Angel' since her older brother, Sam. He'd been killed in a car accident along with three other members of his senior high school football team in a tragedy which had shocked their home town. Nine years older than Angie, her brother had adored and doted on her and he'd been her hero. She realized how much she missed hearing someone call her the pet name, as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Swallowing hard, she opened her mouth to tell Ian how good he looked too when the alarm control panel next to her started beeping rapidly, warning her to enter the code before the police were alerted.
"Crap!" She scrambled to enter the six-digit number, fumbling once and needing to start over, while Ian remained where he was, chuckling at her dilemma. When the alarm was silenced and the light turned green, she turned to him with a sheepish smile. "Sorry. What I was about to say is, you look wonderful too."
He reached out to take her wrap and held it up for her, placing it over her shoulders when she turned around for him. Pivoting back to face him, she took in his heated gaze and thought if they didn't leave now they'd be heading straight to her bedroom. As if he had the same thought, he took a step backward and held out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?"
Angie reset the alarm, locked the door before pulling it shut behind her and tucked her hand under his proffered arm.
With the evening traffic being heavier than usual, the ride took closer to thirty-five minutes. As Ian drove his dark grey Audi RS 5 coupe, instead of his SUV, through the streets of Tampa she told him what she knew about the exhibit they were going to see when he asked her about it. The large collection on loan from France consisted of 18th century art worth about two-hundred-million dollars. While it centered on most forms of paintings, there were also numerous sculptures in many different mediums included. It'd taken the Tampa Museum of Art almost eight years to negotiate and plan for the exhibition which would remain in Florida for six months before returning to its home in the Louvre once again. Angie had spent a two-week class trip in Paris during the break before her final semester at art school and had seen the exhibit there. However, she always wanted a chance to see the beautiful works of art again to study them at her leisure and she was so excited she now had the chance. But, she thought, being on the arm of her handsome date was going to make the experience unforgettable.
* * *
When they pulled up to the front entrance to the museum the place was all decked out with lights, a red carpet and red-vested valets. Several photographers waited for a chance to get a picture of Tampa's own and visiting elite. The mayor, governor and several celebrities who lived in the area were expected to attend, as well as prominent business owners and other local well-known residents. Ian got out of his car, leaving his door open for the young man waiting to move it to a parking area, took his claim ticket and rounded the car. Another valet had helped Angie from the vehicle, so Ian took her hand and pulled her into his side. A few photographers called his name and he paused for half a second for them to take his and Angie's picture for the society pages. Although he hated the attention, he'd learned early on if he gave the vultures what they wanted for a brief moment they didn't hound him later. His brother and he had a very successful and reputable business in Trident Security and an even more successful club in The Covenant. They'd earned frequent invitations to elite functions as a result, although very few people outside of the private sex club knew the Sawyer brothers and their cousin, Mitch, owned it.
Even less people new about their relationship with Charles 'Chuck' Sawyer, a billionaire from Charlotte, North Carolina. Their dad had worked his way from a small real estate business to a corporate empire, owning hotels, resorts, malls, apartment complexes, et cetera, throughout the Carolinas and Virginias. Chuck and his wife Marie, a plastic surgeon, had taken pains to make sure their children were raised with morals and strong work ethics. They tried their best to keep them out of the public spotlight which came with their father's money and the boys had to earn everything they were ever given. When they reached their teens, they all had to either get a job or volunteer at a non-profit organization of their choice. Chuck Sawyer had set up trust funds for each of his sons provided they either go into the military for four years or get a four year college degree. Full access to their funds didn't kick in until they reached the age of thirty.
Ian had chosen the Navy long before his senior year, as had their brother Nick, who at twenty-five was thirteen years younger than Ian. Devon, two years Ian's junior, originally chose college but left after one semester when their other brother, John, died of alcohol poisoning. He'd skipped a day of school his senior year of high school and went on a morning bender in their home. When their father found him at noon, he was cold and blue having aspirated on his own vomit. No one had suspected the teen had spiraled downward into the void of alcoholism.
Devon never returned to school and joined Ian in the Navy in some sort of subconscious effort to take over John's career plans. Although Ian hadn't agreed with the reasoning behind Devon's enlistment, in the end, it'd turned out to be the best thing for him.
Escorting Angie up the carpeted outdoor steps and into the museum, Ian couldn't help the mixture of pride and jealousy striking him when he noticed other men and some women admiring and lusting after her. He held on to her hand a little tighter, unwilling to allow one of the sharks to move in and steal her away from him. Looking down at the beautiful woman next to him he knew he hadn't exaggerated earlier–she was stunning. The black and gold dress fit her like a glove. When she'd turned around earlier to let him put her wrap over her shoulders, he'd taken one look at her toned, bare back and shoulders and had felt his cock jerk with desire. With the open back of the dress, it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. He'd been seconds away from canceling their plans and dragging her into her bedroom when she'd turned back around to look at him again. Somehow he found the strength to give her his arm instead of falling victim to his lust.
His thoughts ventured back to the night before when he'd walked her to her door. With Angie's wide-eyed and O-shaped mouth expression, he'd known she hadn't meant to voice her question about him kissing her aloud, but he was glad she did. When it came to women, Ian didn't like having to guess what they were thinking, feeling or wanting. His former fiancée, Kaliope Levine, walked out on him ten years ago after telling him she was tired of him not being romantic, able to read her moods and anticipate what she wanted, among other things. Now he wanted everything spelled out between him and any woman he dated. He was never letting another woman get that close to him again, but while he was dating someone, he wanted no misunderstandings between them. He wasn't a mind-reader. It was one of the reasons he loved the lifestyle he was in. Openness and honesty were a big part of it and it suited him just fine.
After Ian took Angie's wrap and gave it to the coat check, he added the claim stub to the valet one inside his coat pocket. He placed a possessive hand on th
e skin of her lower back above the edge of her dress and steered her in the right direction. He let the warmth of his hand sink into her body and was thrilled to feel a shiver go through her. As he led her toward the wing where the exhibit and gala were taking place, he stopped at a tuxedoed waiter holding a tray of champagne. Taking one glass, he handed it to Angie before acquiring one for himself, never removing his other hand from her back. They began walking again and as they approached the entrance to the north wing, he heard a male voice call his name. Scanning the people around him, he spotted Will striding toward them. The man extended his hand, forcing Ian to remove the one on Angie's back before returning it to its original spot after greeting his friend. Will looked curiously at Angie and Ian introduced them. "Will, this is my date and Egghead's new neighbor, Angelina Beckett. Angie, this is Will Anders."
The two shook hands, as Will gave Angie a quick head to toe inspection. "I always knew you had good taste, Boss-man. Angie, it's a pleasure to meet you, love. Too bad I don't swing your way, because you are gorgeous. I do have some lez friends who would be interested though. Just say the word."
If Ian didn't know Will was gay and joking with her, he might have ripped the guy's throat out. As it was, he was leaning toward removing the man's tongue from his mouth. Angie grinned at Will, obviously charmed and not at all embarrassed by what the man had implied. "It's nice to meet you too, and thanks for the offer but dating women isn't my thing." She changed the subject with ease. "Ian tells me you're the assistant curator here. I envy you."
"Angie's an artist,” Ian explained. "Although, I haven't seen her work yet, except for a digital piece, I'm hoping she'll show it to me someday."
He watched the other man's face light up even more. "Really, love? What's your medium?"
"Mostly oils and graphite," Angie replied, "but I fool around with clay and watercolors sometimes. I've sold a few paintings over the years through venues which feature amateur artists like me, but if it wasn't for my graphic design business, I would definitely be a starving artist."
A man with a rosebud pinned to the lapel of his black tuxedo rushed up and informed Will he was needed at the front door. Before he hurried away, Will said, "I would love to see your work and if you ever want a personal tour of the museum, let me know. Ian–my cousin, Dev, Roxy and Kayla are waiting for you near the bar to your left when you walk into the great room. They didn't want to start looking around without you. I'll see you both in a bit. Ciao."
While the assistant curator took off in one direction, Ian guided Angie toward the main room of the exhibit and spotted the foursome right away. Since he wasn't sure if she remembered his brother's name, he introduced her again to Devon, and then to his fiancée, Kristen, followed by Dr. Roxanne and Kayla London, who were good friends of Kristen and Will's. They were also new members of The Covenant which, of course, he didn't add. The three women looked radiant in their evening wear and his brother had donned his Hugo Boss tuxedo for the occasion. Kristen was wearing a blue dress with a high waist and her brunette hair was up, similar to Angie's. Her jewelry included the matching blue sapphire and diamond submissive collar and engagement ring which Dev had a jeweler design for her. Roxy's thick auburn hair was down past her shoulders in soft waves and she had forgone her usual Domme black for a beautiful red evening gown. It had more than one man in the room lusting for the sexy siren, but Roxy only had eyes for her submissive and wife. A blue-eyed blonde, Kayla was the complete opposite of her spouse, with her shorter hourglass frame decked out in a dark grey gown with cap sleeves.
After everyone greeted them, Angie's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Kristen Anders. Why do I know that name?"
Before the woman could say anything, Kayla piped up first. "Kristen doesn't like to brag, so I'll do it for her. She's a popular author of romance novels. Maybe you've read one of them."
Ian wasn't prepared for the response the statement got from Angie. She gasped, her eyes going wide in surprise. "Oh my gosh!"
Kayla grinned and elbowed Kristen's arm. "See, I keep telling you you're famous."
"No, yes, no, I mean, yes," Angie stuttered before laughing and holding her hand in the air like a crossing guard stopping traffic. She took a deep breath before attempting to speak again. "Okay, let me start all over. I swear, I'm not normally a blithering idiot and I do have social skills." The others chuckled with amused expressions. "Yes, I've read all your books, but it's not why I recognize your name. I just got a contract yesterday from Red Rose Books to design the cover of your new one."
It was Kristen's turn to be flabbergasted. "Oh my God! What're the odds of that happening? My editor told me they were giving Leather and Lace to someone new because the woman in Seattle, who did Satin and Sin, was taking a hiatus due to health problems. This is so cool. Talk about a small world."
"I'm so excited to design it now. We'll have to chat later so I can get your input before I start playing around with ideas." Ian could only imagine what Angie would come up with after seeing the other book cover she'd done.
"Great! I haven't had much input in my covers since I signed on with Red Rose. Now they narrow it down to three similar covers and my editor and I chose one."
As the two women continued to talk about the publishing business with Roxy and Kayla giving their occasional input, Ian and Devon both took a half step to the side and looked at each other while rolling their eyes. As much as they were proud of Kristen's success and popularity, chic-lit was not their thing. What Ian had latched onto, though, was when Angie said she'd read all Kristen's books. He assumed they included the last one, Satin and Sin, a book which had surprised Devon when the couple first met, since it was a best-selling erotica romance revolving around a BDSM club. The follow up, Leather and Lace, which the women were now discussing, was a story about one of the previous book's sub-characters, Master Xavier. Ian glanced at Angie with his brain spinning. It was the second time she'd admitted she read erotica and the thoughts currently flying through his mind might shock her. But then again, maybe not.
* * *
They spent an hour or so roaming through the crowded north wing of the museum, looking at the exhibits and talking about a gamut of subjects, including art, literature and local news. Angie found herself growing more comfortable with Ian and his family and friends as the evening progressed. Will had popped over to visit a few times before rushing off to avert another crisis or two, and numerous people greeted the group while further introductions were made. She found it interesting how every time Ian introduced her to one of the many women drooling over him, he barely glanced at them before his gaze returned to her. And when it was a man who was being introduced, Ian would tuck her closer into his side in what appeared to be a possessive gesture. She liked his responses and hoped she wasn't misreading them and his interest in her. She also liked how his hand was in contact with a part of her body–her back, neck, hand or arm–as much as possible. The rough callouses on his palm and fingers felt seductive against her soft skin. As they walked from painting to painting, she found he understood art more than he admitted to her, and probably to himself. He listened to her, not with half an ear as some of her past boyfriends or dates had, and held his own as they discussed what they did or did not like about each piece.
When a new round of champagne flutes, along with a tonic water and lime for Devon, arrived for them via another sharp-dressed waiter, Angie looked about and spotted a ladies' room a short distance away. She excused herself to the group and Kristen chimed in she wanted to go with her.
Devon groaned. "What is with women that they must go to the restrooms together?"
Everyone laughed when his fiancée deadpanned, "It's in the women's rule book of socialization, sweetheart. Why don't you look it up some time?"
Growling softly, he grabbed Kristen around the waist and whispered something into her ear which made her blush and bite her bottom lip. Angie could have sworn she heard the woman mumble 'yes, sir' before joining her on the walk across the room, whil
e the other four members of their group stayed and chuckled behind them.
The elegant ladies' room was almost empty and after quick stops at the toilets followed by the sinks, Kristen met Angie at the mirrored vanity located near a sitting area. After two other women exited the facilities, they found themselves alone. Angie finished reapplying her lipstick and looked at the other woman's dress and shoes. She'd been admiring the blue, empire waist creation and silver Manolo Blahnik heels all evening and told her so.
Kristen grinned with freshly painted lips. "Thanks. I had the shoes, but Will and Kayla took me shopping the other day for the dress. I'm fine when it comes to picking out every day clothes but I get flustered if I have to play dress-up. I can never tell if I look drab, slutty or sexy."
"My vote is drab and slutty, you bitch."
Angie gasped at the sudden insult as Kristen whirled around with rage in her eyes and faced the woman who'd said it. Neither one of them had noticed her come in. Crossing her arms over her chest, Angie's new friend stood taller as she stared at the skinny redhead in a white strapless gown. "Seriously, Heather? Who let your skanky ass in here? You wouldn't know art if it slapped you. Oh, wait a minute, it looks like you already took an oil painting to the face or is that your makeup? I can't quite tell."
His Angel: Trident Security Book 2 Page 5