“And what if my heart gets in the way and clouds my perceptions?”
“It won't,” she says. “You're a hell of a lot smarter than that. You really don't give yourself enough credit. You're not going to do something stupid and put yourself in a bad position. I know that much about you. Maybe, you should just go and talk to this Pops Ramazzo himself.”
I reach across the table and take her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. I feel so blessed to have Jade by my side. She's my rock. She's the first person I run to, and she's always there to hold me tight when I need it. She's also the first to tell me when I'm being an idiot.
“You seem really invested in me being with Carter,” I say and laugh.
“Honestly, it's because for the first time in, I don't even know how long, that you're actually happy,” she says. “It's hard to explain, but you just have this glow about you I haven't seen in – oh, about ten years. Plus, the fact that my girl is having toe-curling sex with one of the hottest men in New York makes me deliriously happy, and insanely jealous all at the same time. But, more than anything, I'm happy for you, Darbs. That glowing smile on your face, is really, really nice to see.”
I laugh. “Shut up,” I say.
“It's true,” she replies. “I think Carter is good for you, Darbs. I think he was right about you two being given a second chance for a reason. Don't screw it up by overthinking it. Listen to your gut. Trust yourself.”
“Thank you, Jade.”
“You owe me,” she says. “I want details about this toe-curling sex. Video if you have it.”
I slap her hand and laugh. “You’re so bad. I love you.”
“And I love you, Darbs,” she says. “I just want you to be happy.”
“That makes two of us.”
I take a sip and look around the bar. With Christmas closing in, the atmosphere is decidedly more festive than usual. The people here seem to really love Christmas. The bar is decorated to the nth degree, with tinsel, streamers, and garland everywhere. I love Christmas, but even I think this is over the top.
But, if it makes them happy, so be it. I just hope I can hold on to my own happiness.
Chapter Seventeen
Carter
“So? How'd the meeting go?” I ask.
“About how we expected,” Rupert says and gives me a smile.
“So, the hook is baited.”
“Indeed, it is.”
We walk across the lobby on the ground floor of the office building and step into the coffee house located there. Despite the fact that it's after two, the place is packed. Most of us in the industry tend to run on caffeine and adrenaline, so it's not at all surprising. We get into line and Rupert waves to a girl behind the counter. A pretty blonde thing, wearing one of the most hideous holiday sweaters I've ever seen, a Santa hat, and what look like bulb ornaments as earrings. I groan and shake my head.
“What?” he asks. “Not everybody has to be a Scrooge this time of year. I happen to enjoy the holiday flair.”
“What's with the sweater?”
He shrugs. “Ugly sweaters are a thing, apparently.”
“You have one, don't you?”
Rupert gives me a sly smile. “We're going to an ugly sweater party,” he says. “I can't be the only one without one.”
I shake my head. What a nerd.
He laughs. “Isn't she adorable though?”
“She looks young. Aren’t you a little old for her?”
“Asshole,” Rupert replies, laughing. “She's a senior in college.”
“And I’m thirty-two.”
“Worrying about age is so last century,” he teases. “Get with the times, my brother.”
“Yea?” I ask. “You were ten years old when that girl was in diapers.”
“Our love knows no arbitrary bounds like age,” he says.
“How poetic.”
“And besides, it's not like you have room to talk,” he says. “Isn't Darby –”
“Four years,” I say. “Totally doesn't compare.”
He shrugs and grins at me. “Yeah, it kinda does.”
“Not even close. Not even in the same ballpark.”
We get to the counter and I place our order, paying for Rupert's and leaving the girl a healthy tip. A few minutes later, my name is called, and I grab our drinks. Rupert manages to peel himself away from his girl and we walk back out into the lobby. He raises his cup to me.
“Grazie,” he says.
I nod. “So, when are you supposed to make the exchange?”
“I told him I'd call him,” he says. “Wanted to coordinate it with you. We need to make sure we have clean visuals and audio. The last thing we want to do is leave anything ambiguous or open to interpretation.”
“Agreed,” I say. “Let me call my guy.”
He nods. “Coming up?”
I shake my head. “Nah,” I reply. “I'm taking Darby to a new exhibit down at the Bog.”
“Well, have a good time then.”
Hold down the fort for me,” I reply. “And I'll let you know what I find out about closing the deal.”
“Sounds good.”
* * *
“The work is exquisite,” she says.
The Bog – the Bogosian Museum – is a small museum located in Chelsea. It's not as well known or prestigious as the Guggenheim, but it has a collection of work that comes close to rivaling it. It also houses paintings from one of my favorite painters.
“I had no idea you were such a big fan of Caravaggio.”
I nod. “I've always loved his work. At least, I did once you turned me on to art, and I discovered him,” I say. “It's some of the most beautiful stuff I've ever seen. Well, excluding yours, of course.”
I squeeze her tight and kiss her neck as she giggles. I can't put into words what it is, but something seems off. Darby’s more than a little distracted tonight. It's like something's weighing on her mind. She hasn't said anything explicitly, but I can tell.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah,” she says. “Everything's great.”
She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, so I'm not going to push it. Better to let her handle this however she wants to. In her own time.
We stroll around the museum for a while, looking at the amazing collection of works they've assembled. I've been to this museum many times – I'm a large donor to it, actually – and I always find something new, every time. Something unexpected. Something I didn't see before. It's one of my favorite places to hang out and look at art.
“Carter Bishop, lovely to see you again.”
“It’s great to see you too, Midge,” I say.
Midge Waters, the museum's chief curator, walks over to us and gives me a hug. I've known Midge for a few years now and have nothing but the utmost respect for her. She's a wonderful person and has done an amazing job of making the Bog one of the best museums in New York.
“Midge, this is Da –”
“Darby White,” she says, beaming. “Let me be the first to say, I absolutely adore your work.”
Darby blushes, but her smile is wide. “Thank you,” she says. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”
“I actually have a piece of yours at my home,” Midge says. “It's your rendition of The Scream. I thought your execution was utterly brilliant.”
Darby beams. “Thank you so much.”
“I would love to have you come and give a talk on modern art sometime, if you're interested?” Midge asks.
“I'd love that,” Darby replies.
“Excellent. I'll have somebody at the office contact you to set it up.”
I turn to Midge and smile. “Anything new and exciting not on the floor yet?”
“As a matter of fact, there is,” she says slyly.
“Any chance of getting a sneak peek?”
“Only for you, Carter,” she teases.
I give her a wide smile. “You are too good to me, Midge.”
“Damn
right I am,” she says and laughs. “You have your keycard?”
I nod. “Just so happens I do.”
“Well then, take your time and enjoy it.”
“Thanks, Midge,” I say. “You're scoring me a lot of points with Darby here.”
“Yeah, well, remember that when donation time rolls around again.”
“You know I will.”
Midge laughs as she walks on and Darby looks at me, arching her eyebrow.
“You have access to the lower levels of the Bog?”
“I do indeed.”
She sighs. “Must be nice.”
“Not gonna lie, it has its privileges,” I laugh. “Seems like you've got a fan club. That's pretty cool, Darby. Your work is hanging in her home.”
Darby smiles, but looks a little embarrassed. “It's always nice to be recognized,” she says softly. “That painting is one of my favorites. It makes me really happy to know that she enjoys it as much as I do.”
“Well, get used to it,” I say. “I have a feeling you’re a rising star in the art world.”
“I wish.”
“Watch and see,” I say. “So, shall we head down there?”
“After you.”
We walk to a bank of elevators and step inside. Using the passkey, I punch the button for the basement floor and the car starts to descend. I look over at Darby, doing her best to pretend that she’s absent-mindedly staring off into space. Something is definitely going on.
“You sure everything's okay?” I ask.
She nods, flashing me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. I'm good. Nothing to worry about.”
A soft bell chimes and the doors slide open. We step into a lobby with doors that lead to some offices and work rooms. The door I want is directly across from us. I offer Darby my arm, and we step forward. Using the key, I unlock the door and hold it open for her.
The interior of the large basement warehouse has a unique smell to it. I've never really been able to identify it though. It's got a chemical odor, but isn’t entirely unpleasant. I just don't know what it is. About the most intelligent word I can come up with to describe it is – old. Which doesn’t say much about my ability as a wordsmith.
Large racks holding carefully wrapped paintings and other items that either have been displayed, or will be, stretch from one side of the room to the other. Some of the pieces are on loan and need to be sent back to their museum or institution of residence.
The section I'm looking for though, is on the other side of the warehouse, beyond the racks. They have something special back there, and I'm dying to show Darby.
“Come on,” I say and take her hand.
We walk through the towering racks, around assorted boxes, and rolling ladders, making our way to the far end of the warehouse. That's where Midge keeps the upcoming displays. She likes to lay them out beforehand to give the staff an idea of how she wants the pieces displayed.
There are statues, old jewelry, and paintings galore. All in all, there are four separate displays, marking four different periods of time.
“Looks like Midge has been busy,” Darby says.
“She always is,” I say. “She's meticulous and incredibly gifted at her job.”
Darby approaches the rope that keeps us from running amok through the displays. I can see the excitement in her face looking at these rare and precious pieces of art and it makes me smile. I love making her happy.
And in that moment, it hits me that her happiness is more important to me than my own.
“Come with me,” I say.
I lead her to a room off to the side and open the door for her. I follow her in, allowing the door to swing shut behind us. Directly in front of us, on the far side of the room, a large window overlooks a sterile room. Darby walks toward it, and I stay behind a few steps, admiring the way her ass pops in her pencil skirt.
She looks over her shoulder and catches me watching, giving me a smile, although it's less flirty than usual. Yeah, something is definitely up with her. I don't want to push, but I have the strangest feeling – one I don't particularly care for.
“You’re hopeless,” she chides.
I shrug. “Not all works of art are on display in a museum.”
She laughs and shakes her head. I join her at the window and look at several paintings in the process of being restored. The Bog does a terrific job preserving these old treasures.
“I've never seen the restoration process,” she says, as she surveys the pieces inside the clean room.
“I got to see one from beginning to end once,” I say. “It's tedious and a little boring at times, but overall, it's pretty fascinating. I thought you might be interested in seeing this.”
She nods. “I'd love to see the actual work being done.”
I turn to her and take her in my arms, pulling her close. “Then, we'll have to set something up with Midge.”
As we stand there, I'm overcome by a powerful wave of need and desire. It's not like she's done anything out of the ordinary to stoke those fires within me, but that primal lust for her, burns bright inside of me all the same. I want Darby. Right here, and right now.
I lean down and kiss her, slipping my tongue between her lips as I run my hands through her hair. She seems a little stiff at first, but she warms up quickly. I break our kiss, planting a line of kisses from her chin down to her chest, drawing a soft moan from her.
“I don't know if we should do this in here,” she says softly.
“Better than out on the museum floor,” I reply.
“I have a feeling Midge wouldn't be too appreciative of that.”
“Probably not.”
I press my mouth to hers again. Feeling her come alive in my arms sets me on fire. I grab her hand and guide it to my hard cock. She grips me nice and hard, stroking me through my slacks. I massage her breasts through her shirt, circling my thumbs around her hard nipples.
“We should probably be quick,” she says.
“Probably so.”
Kissing her again, I walk backwards until we bump into one of the work benches. I slide her skirt up her waist and slide her panties off, slipping them into my coat pocket. She runs her tongue from my ear to my neck, continuing to stroke me through my pants.
“I need to be inside of you,” I say.
“Then take me.”
Lifting her up, I set her down on the bench and she spreads her legs for me as she reaches for my belt. I help her undo it and slide my pants down as I step forward. Reaching into my interior coat pocket, I take out a condom, quickly rolling it down my erection. Darby bites her bottom lip, her eyes filled with lust as she grips my cock and pulls me forward, guiding me to her sweet, wet opening.
“Fuck me, Carter,” she says, her voice low and dripping with desire.
Without a word, I thrust into her, hard and deep. Darby gasps as I fill her completely. She leans her forehead against mine as she wraps her arms around the back of my neck, whimpering softly.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
She digs her fingernails into the back of my neck, making me draw a sharp breath as I start to drive myself into her in a hard, steady rhythm.
Gripping her thighs tight, I grit my teeth as Darby bites the side of her hand to stop herself from crying out too loudly. I'm turned on by her muffled screams and groans, and fuck her with a renewed vigor.
Suddenly, I pull her off the table and spin her around. Keeping her skirt up around her waist, I bend her over the workbench, taking a handful of her hair, and pull her head back as I thrust inside her again. Darby gasps and moans as I fuck her, pressing her ass into me, taking my cock even deeper into her.
She looks at me over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip. Her cheeks are flushed, and her breathing is ragged. I feel her body tensing up beneath me as I plunge deep inside. My body begins to tighten, and I know I'm not going to last much longer.
“Come for me, Carter,” she gasps. “Come for me.”
Pushing myself
as deep inside of her as I can go, Darby lets out a strangled gasp, crying out my name as her body begins to tremble. As her pussy clenches harder around my cock, squeezing me tight, my cock twitches, filling the condom inside of her.
Together, we shudder and gasp, our bodies both filled with ecstasy. We stay like that, joined together for several long moments, drinking in the warmth and glow of the act. Slowly, our breathing returns to normal, and as I stand, my cock slips out of her. I slide the condom off and toss it into the nearby trash can, covering it with some pieces of crumpled up paper, so the employees or work crews don't find an unexpected surprise.
I pull my pants up quickly and get myself sorted as Darby slides her skirt down and does the same. A moment later, our eyes meet, and we share a warm laugh.
“You know we're acting just like a couple of horny teenagers,” she says.
I pull her to me and kiss her full, soft lips. “I wouldn't have it any other way.”
She looks me in the eyes and I see that shadow flash through them once more – the one that's been hovering over her all night long. I let it pass though, preferring to enjoy the moment. Still, I can't help but wonder what's going on with her tonight.
“We should probably get back upstairs,” she says.
“I suppose so.”
Together, we walk out of the restoration workshop, hand-in-hand. We make our way back upstairs and she leans her head against my shoulder on the elevator ride back up.
“Thanks for tonight,” she says.
“My pleasure,” I say. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
She looks at me for a long moment, and I'm convinced she's going to say no. But then she smiles.
“I'd love to.”
We step back out onto the main floor and exit the museum, heading out into the night.
* * *
Darby is unusually quiet in the car. She just sits and looks out the window, watching the crowds on the street as we pass by, an inscrutable expression on her face. I hadn't pushed to that point, preferring to let her speak up in her own due time, but I can't take it anymore. I have to know what she's thinking.
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