Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2)

by C. J. Ellisson

  I laugh. God, he has no idea what a catch he is, baby or not. “Hardly.”

  “Your turn,” he says.

  “Um, for what?”

  “Time to tell me everything that happened at work with Jimmy. If you were able to go to HR and file a formal complaint, something had to have happened.”

  I hem and haw, unwilling to talk about it, but gradually Tony worms the whole story out of me. By the time I get to the end, he’s put his pizza down and become stiff on the couch.

  “Did he abuse you, Heather, sexually?”

  The question takes me by surprise. I’d never thought of Jimmy or what we did together that way. “I don’t think so, at least not how you mean.”

  “How was it then?” His voice is low, with a steel edge to it. “It sounds like he forced you to do things you didn’t like.”

  “Not really. I mean, it wasn’t always like that. I’m not an idiot, Tony. He just got a little carried away… and maybe he wasn’t always so concerned with whether or not I was as ‘into’ it as he was.”

  Tony stares at me, his gaze intense and heavy. “That night, last week… in your kitchen when I cooked for you… and you…did you…” He looks away, then back to me, as if he’s steeling himself for bad news. “Did you feel I was too forceful when I held your head? Did I go too far?”

  I climb across the couch and into his lap, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders to lock the warmth in. “Look at me, Tony.” His eyes meet mine, the emotion I see nearly clogs my throat. “Do I behave like a meek and cowed woman?”

  Tension eases out of him. “No.”

  “Did I, in any way, seem like I was not having a damn good time any of the times we’ve been together?”

  He smiles, his rakish good humor coming back. “Nope. Never.”

  “Then there’s your answer.” I snuggle into his chest, happy when his arms come around me. “I was a different person with Jimmy. I didn’t know myself. I only knew I didn’t want to be alone for the rest of my life… and that led to me taking more shit than I bargained for.”

  His lips press against my hair. “I’m so punching that asshole if I ever meet him.”

  “Fine by me. Might knock some sense into him.”

  “I highly doubt that. Assholes like him will always exist.”

  I cringe inwardly, thinking about Tammy and how nice she is. I’ll have to say something to her before it’s too late. I sigh, this one not of contentment, but rather in annoyance over a difficult task to come.

  “So tell me, besides the Jimmy problem, how do you like your new job?”

  I shrug, realize that’s not really an answer and shift to the side so I can respond while considering his question. “It’s okay. Nothing exceptionally glamorous or anything. Same thing I’ve done for years, only this time with a title and more pay. I mean, when it gets right down to it, it’s a corporate job. You know what that’s like.”

  “Yeah, I do. Been there, done that. Glad to be done with it.” His warm hand slides over my thigh, not sexually, more in comfort. “I just hoped for more for you.”

  “Me? How much better can it get? I’m twenty-eight and the CFO. Granted, I worked my way to the job, rather than was interviewed and hired for it, but I’m not going to quibble.” I smile to show I am happy, but strangely enough, I know what Tony means. A corporate job pays the bills, but it leaves a lot to be desired regarding making you feel fulfilled in life.

  “What about your hobby—photography. You’re really, really good. Have you thought about pursuing that as a career?”

  I shrug both shoulders. “I dunno. I never really thought about it. Photography was more of a pipe dream in high school and college.” I think about all the classes I took, and the fact I never really pursued it outside of a course and my own personal time. “Well, that’s not really true either. I mean, sure I’ve always enjoyed it… but it never really occurred to me as viable career, you know? Way too many starving artists out there in the world.”

  “What if you could? I mean, if money wasn’t a concern?”

  I shove further away so I can get a good look at his face. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” My tone becomes heated. “I have no intention of becoming a kept woman who needs a man to support her.”

  “Slow down there, Ms. Feisty,” he smiles to show he knows he’s using the same term to describe me as Jimmy did in the lobby. “I’m not offering to support you.” He squeezes my thigh once more. “Although… I might be tempted to literally support you in various sexual positions.” He winks. “Just think on it.”

  I nudge his shoulder. “I’m serious, Tony. I have money saved, but I’m not interested in taking a risk like that right now, not when I’m in a good place at work.”

  “How about if an art gallery owner really liked your work and wanted to show it?”

  I freeze, staring at his light brown eyes to see if he’s funning with me. “Really? You shared my work with someone and they liked it?” At his slow smile I sit up straighter on the couch. “You’re not teasing?”

  “I’m not teasing if you’re not annoyed I did it without asking. If you are, then yes, I’m totally teasing.”

  “Oh my God! What did they say?”

  “He said you had an incredible eye. Loved your city shots and your model ones. Wants to do a showing.”

  “I can’t believe it!” I squeal in excitement, bouncing on the couch and losing the blanket. “You even showed him the ones of you?” I freeze again, my body going from hot to cold so quick I feel like a crazy person. “Wait, he thought you were a model. He didn’t see your face?”

  “I did some creative cropping. The software I got is really incredible.”

  I jump up, the excitement not letting me stay still a moment longer. “I can’t believe this! That’s incredible. I don’t know what to say. Yes, I do. Wow! This is so awesome!”

  I leap on Tony, plastering his face with kisses. “You’ve got to be the most incredible man in the world. Who does this kind of thing?” My mind races with the possibilities. Will people like my work or will it be hum-drum, like it’s nothing special? Oh my God, what will I do if people don’t come? That would be way worse.

  Tony chuckles. “You’ve got a cute little crease between your eyebrows. Your mind must be generating problems.” He hugs me, lending me his warmth and unconditional support. “Don’t stress, Heather. This should be something to celebrate.”

  “It is, don’t get me wrong. There’s just so many possibilities. Could go well, could be a phenomenal failure… Oh God.” I clutch my stomach. “I think I may get sick.”

  “Relax.” His hands shift me to the side, perhaps worried I may indeed puke on him. “It’ll go fine. I’m sure people will love your work. You should see the finals I printed and sent. Really gorgeous.”

  “Oh my God—you sent them already? When is the showing?”

  “As it happens, the gallery had a mess up with a shipment and had to cancel the showing planned for this weekend. Francesco asked if we could put you in last minute and I said I’d check with ‘the artist’ to confirm.”

  “This weekend? Today is Wednesday. That’s no time to prep.”

  “Oh, you mean like ads and announcements? I already put a call in to the paper. They were very interested to hear about a ‘local artist Tony Carmine discovered.’ If you agree, they’ll run a piece in the society pages mentioning the show. And running ads is easy. Copy can be written and submitted asap.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say. This is all happening so fast. This is incredible.”

  Tony reaches for me, pulling me onto his lap. “Say yes, darlin’. Take a risk. Live a little.”

  I take a shaky breath, unwilling to process everything he’s thrown at me in the past five minutes. But one thing is for sure, I can do anything with him by my side. “Yes. I’ll do it.” My stomach clenches. “And if I throw up and humiliate myself, it’s all on you.”

  He laughs once more and gently kisses me. “How about we
go a day early for you to check over the exhibit and get a lay of the land.” My lover smiles and touches his forehead to mine. “If you feel you need some strategically placed trash cans added we can have Francesco add them.”

  I nod, unwilling to trust my mouth to speak. I’m overwhelmed by his generosity and sincerity. My heart swells in my chest. I can’t believe how much I love this man, how much he’s come to mean to me in such a short span of time. I’m so afraid something will happen to ruin this for me.

  I swallow down the bile, refusing to let my fears rule me. This is an amazing opportunity. I will not self-sabotage it with my old insecurities.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tony

  The next two days go by in a blur of work and preparation. I stayed both nights at Heather’s so I could better handle the minute details for the showing. Despite my offhanded comments to Heather, there are a lot of tiny things to iron out, but I’m doing them all myself so she can focus on work.

  She’s been a hot mess since Wednesday night. I probably should have picked a better time to ask her to dinner at my mom’s on Sunday. She said yes, and seemed happy, but she threw up twice before settling down to sleep. She insisted it was over the showing, not meeting my mom, and I believe her.

  I hadn’t anticipated she’d react so strongly with nerves. It makes my nice surprise seem more painful than good. She keeps assuring me it’s fabulous, but at times I see her with a look of sheer panic on her face and wonder if I did the right thing.

  I was there when she called Carla with the news, and by the squeals heard over the phone, it’s safe to say she’s excited about the showing, too. They’ve invited all their yoga buddies, and one of the Parkerson executives saw the piece in the paper, so it looks like she’ll get some support from work relationships, too.

  I’ve planned a private dinner for the two of us at the gallery tonight. She still hasn’t seen the work Francesco and I have picked, and I want her to see it as her friends and prospective buyers will on Saturday night. He and I spent time going over contact sheets and selecting more images. Heather will have close to sixty prints on display. An incredible number for a new artist on the scene. We lucked out Francesco had the room for it.

  Sometimes, timing is everything in life.

  Well—connections, preparedness, and sheer luck play a good part of it, too.

  “How do I look?” Heather asks, twirling in an outfit I’ve never seen. She’s wearing an emerald sheath dress that ends at her knees, the jewel tone showing off her black hair and creamy skin. Makes me wish we were staying in so I could peel it off her… with my teeth.

  I whistle low. “Like a million bucks. Is this for tonight or tomorrow?”

  “For tonight. Carla helped me pick something even fancier for tomorrow.” She presses a hand to her stomach. “Oh God, maybe eating isn’t such a good idea.”

  I take her in my arms and hold her close, running my hands down her back to cup her ass and haul her close. “You’ll do fine, don’t worry. I’ll be right by your side.” I lean in to kiss her, a soft brush of the lips. “Tonight is just for us. No one will be there except the owner, and he’ll leave after he lets us in.”

  She nods, pinning a brave smile in place. “I’m sure I’ll do fine.”

  Close to seven o’clock we leave, the hired car waiting downstairs to take us to the gallery downtown. On the ride over we’re quiet, each lost in our own thoughts.

  Tonight is the big night. For me that is. I’m going to take the plunge and say it first. I plan to tell her I love her when we’re all alone. I don’t want it confused with the excitement of tomorrow. Saturday night is all for her. And if she does get sick during the exhibit, I’m sure she’d appreciate me not springing something else major on her, too.

  Heather squeezes my hand again. “This is all so… unreal. I still can’t believe it’s happening.”

  I smile to reassure her, unwilling to say more until we get there. I’m sure she’ll be as impressed with her work on display as the gallery staff were. Very soon, we pull up to the curb. She squeaks when the door opens, then gulps air like a gasping fish when I hand her out of the car.

  I run a hand down her back. “Deep slow breaths, hon. You’ll do fine. No one is here but us.”

  “And Francesco. Does he know I’m your girlfriend? Does that look bad? Like I had to sleep with you to get you to support my art?”

  I stifle a chuckle, unsure how she’ll react to my humor at her expense. “Yes, he knows we’re dating. He wanted to know my involvement and how I had access to your work. You’ll need to sign some paperwork tomorrow so he can handle sales and commission.”

  She nods, staring through the glass at the work on display—none of it hers, but I’m sure she’s wondering what it would be like to have her work in the front windows.

  I open the door, motioning for her to proceed me. “And no, there was no mention of my sleeping with you to support your work. After all,” I say with a smile, “it’s not like I have a rep in the art world for ‘discovering’ new talent. Like I told you, he’s an old friend, all I did was ask if he could look at it. The rest was all him.”

  “Buonasera!” A robust Italian-accented voice calls good evening to us. The smartly dressed Francesco enters the foyer, hands extended in greeting. “Is this delicate flower the talented artist?” Typical suave salesman, he glides over to us fawning over Heather. “Only one so beautiful could capture such emotion and depth behind the lens.” He kisses both her cheeks and then stands back to admire her more.

  “Thanks again, Francesco. And yes, this is Heather.” I make quick introductions and he motions for us to follow him into the next room, reserved for paintings and sculpture.

  “Your gallery is impressive, sir. Thank you so much for agreeing to show my work.”

  He beams under her compliment, but waves her words off with a hand. “It is your Tony here who saved me. I had another artist scheduled, but last minute the shipment didn’t arrive. Your work fit in perfectly.” He continues to a second room. “Come, come. Tony tells me this is the first time you’ll see some of the work mounted and framed.”

  Heather nods, slowing her step to pause on the threshold. A large, well lit room expands before us. Spotlights shine on each individual print, showcasing the shadows and highlights in each one. Some of them look like you could walk right into the print. To the left are all her Manhattan and Hoboken shots, and to the right, and dead center in the room, are all the ones she took of me last week. A small table for two is arranged in the center of the space, set up with the meal I had delivered and a wine bucket close by with champagne on ice.

  Her breath catches in her throat. “It… It’s indescribable. I never dreamed…” She strolls in, staring at the largest picture of me. The chains are draped over my shoulders, the afternoon light casting warmth and mystery on the glossy paper. “Just gorgeous,” she whispers. “It’s hard to believe I took them.”

  Francesco chuckles. “You better have or I could get in a lot of trouble trying to sell someone else’s work.”

  Heather whips around, horror on her face. “I swear, they’re mine. I just meant…”

  I place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze. “Relax, hon. He’s joking.”

  “I’ll leave you two in peace. You can lock up, Tony?”

  “No problem.”

  “Come, follow me out. You’ll drop the keys off with security next door when you’re done.”

  I look to Heather, who nods, assuring me she’s fine while I escort Francesco out.

  “Thanks again for letting us have the place to ourselves for an hour or so. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Most artists have a small gathering the night before for friends and such.” We walk to the front foyer where he points out the keys. “You’re not planning something big and private are you?” He raises eyebrows. “Like a proposal?”

  “No, but thanks for making me feel like I should have.” I smile. “Maybe next time.”


  “Hmmph. No romance these days. Everyone rushes.” He turns to the door and hesitates. “Who is this? A friend who’s joining you two for dinner?”

  I grab the keys and look up, my breath caught in my throat. It’s Portia. “Ah… not really.” I step forward and open the door to let her in, warning her with my eyes to be quiet. “I’ll see her out in a few minutes, Francesco. Thanks again, and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  He makes his goodbyes and exits, leaving me alone with Portia in the vestibule of the gallery. I wait ’til he’s out of sight to say anything, my voice coming out in a low whisper. “What brings you here, Portia? How did you find me?”

  “You’re not the only one who can hire a private detective.” Her eyes glitter with malice. “Imagine my surprise when I found out you were seeing someone else.” She pushes past me and rushes toward the first gallery room. “Is she here? The newspaper said your art showing was for a Heather Pierce? Since a private showing would be the night before, I went on a hunch you’d be here.” She looks around, eyeing up the other doorways leading off the room. “I’d like to meet the woman who’s snagged your attention. Or at least snagged it for now.”

  I follow her, wishing I could strangle her and toss her body in the alley.

  Temper, temper. What happened to the supportive moron who’s ready to be a father?

  Before I have a chance to respond, Heather strides out from the second gallery. “I’m Heather. Is there something I can help you with?”

  Portia eyes the other woman slowly, from head to toe. “Well, well… if it isn’t the latest catch of the week. According to the man I hired, she’s the third one you dated after me. Does she know about us yet?”

  I move to Heather’s side, ignoring the growing sense of dread in my gut, silently letting Portia know with my actions who’s more important to me. “There is no ‘us’, Portia. There’s you and your current situation. Which we still have no proof is connected to me.”

  She waves a hand away, like the detail of the DNA test is insignificant. “I may have been a party girl, but I know who I slept with in the time frame the doctors say I conceived.” Her eyes narrow on Heather. “Has he told you we’re having a baby together?”