When are you available? Found the perfect woman for you.
The message is so bizarre, it takes me a moment to process. It isn't like him to give a damn about my love life.
Not interested, I text back.
Already find a bride? Is it the woman you wanted to talk about earlier?
I scowl. Ava is none of his business. I'm not marrying her for the painting, I write, referring to the fucked-up proposal from our father.
Then what?
I hesitate. I want Ava for reasons other than the damned paintings. And I want her to crave me the way I crave her … the way I love her.
Another text comes in. You are marrying, right?
I already told you guys no. As I hit send, I feel a pit growing in my belly.
Dad is a borderline sociopath, but he's no dummy. He knows the only way to make us all jump is to make sure everyone gets punished if even one of us disobeys.
I can live without the painting. My siblings believe Grandpa saw our greatest potential and put that into the portraits he did of us when we turned eighteen. It might be true for them, but it isn't for me. He saw something in me that didn't exist. He only saw what he wanted to see, and when there wasn't anything there, he imagined it.
People think that Elliot and I are geniuses and that we founded and nurtured the company that made us rich together. But it was really Elliot who protected it from the embezzler-I didn't know the money was missing since stuff like that isn't my forte-and he's the one who courted our investors. I was always a bit too shy and awkward. Or, as Elliot would put it, "Hard to get to know."
The more precise verdict would be "wears his heart on his sleeve unless he's careful" delivered in a female voice dripping with contempt.
You know this is going to devastate Elizabeth.
I glare at the phone screen. Blake knows my weak point. Other than Ava, my half-sister, Elizabeth Pryce-Reed, is the only woman I'd take a bullet for. She isn't Catholic, but she should be canonized anyway for all the good work she does for the destitute and disadvantaged in the world. I've seen the difference she's made in people's lives. If I died today, it wouldn't make the world any sadder, any less bright. But Elizabeth? The world would be a poorer place.
That's a cheap shot. She'll get over it if I donate a few million bucks to her foundation to make up for it, I respond even though I know that isn't true. Even though Grandpa's portrait couldn't capture all that's good about her, she adores the work since she loved that man. She'd grieve if she lost it.
Is that what she said? Blake texts back.
She doesn't have to. I know.
I tip my head backward, banging it against the headboard a few times. I don't want to disappoint Elizabeth, but I can't bear to hurt Ava. She deserves nothing less than true love, a fairy-tale wedding … the works.
I'm not asking her to marry me for some fucking oil and canvas.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ava
More than three hours later, I emerge from the spa. At first, I was a little annoyed that Lucas went overboard-and rather sneakily too, getting the spa people to give me what he wanted. But with my muscles feeling like warm clay, my skin scrubbed and glowing, and my nails shiny with a coat of gorgeous pink lacquer, I can't complain. He was right to give me the works.
I claim my purse from the locker and check my phone. I have a couple of texts from Bennie.
First: Guess you had a good time. Don't make it too good for him. He deserves to suffer a little for what he's done to you. And good god, why did he have to send the moving crew so early? They showed up before coffee.
Second: Lucas said you were leaving today, so I'm going to host a party starting at seven for you. Tell him to hold the damned plane until midnight or something.
I frown. I had no idea we were leaving today. Lucas said he sent people to get my things today, but … flying out today?
When I reach the suite, Lucas opens the door and says, "Wow. You look amazing."
"Thank you. I feel great." I give him a smile. I've never been so thoroughly spoiled before, and not even Bennie's text can take away my glow. "But what is this about us leaving today?"
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Bennie."
Lucas mutters something under his breath. "Yes. I told him that, but only because he was pissing me off. But like I said before, I can't linger too long."
"Okay." I breathe out shakily. "You're right. Why delay it?"
He takes my hand and kisses the back of it tenderly. "I swear you won't regret this."
"I know you'll do your best. You promised."
A man who allowed himself to be as vulnerable as Lucas isn't a man who intends to screw up.
"Thank you."
"Apparently there's a going-away party tonight. I want you to come with me."