Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance(118)

I dodged past the chefs and walked down the hall to my studio sullenly but was secretly glad to open the door and get that shazam feeling all over again. Nine brand new, totally unseen by outsiders, totally wonderful and exciting works leaned against the wall. They even covered up the paintings behind them. I was absolutely smitten.

Pursing my lips, I swapped places on the two on the end of the line, then put them back how I had them. Then I moved the third one next to the fifth one… Then just decided to hang them on the wall. Setting them all to the side, I took the older paintings from their nails and brought them to the opposite side of the room, stacking them to face the wall. If I didn’t have to see them again, ever, that was going to be fine with me. I felt like they had all betrayed me somehow.

I tinkered with the arrangement until I was more or less satisfied and got them all hung. Then I stood back and sat on my stool, knuckling my chin, trying to imagine what Bridget was going to say.

Voices in the hallway caught my attention and I perked up just as Declan was opening the door. He walked in with a very tall, very gorgeous woman with hair the color of corn silk.

“Ahhh,” she cooed with an accent, somehow, and immediately walked in and started gandering way too damn close to my new paintings. I saw Declan cut his eyes toward me and carefully controlled my expression.

“Oh my gaaaasshhhhh,” she murmured in an utterly phony and exaggerated accent, swishing her ass cheeks from side to side underneath her absurdly short skirt.

Declan was infuriatingly amused. His eyes danced.

“Margot, this is Anneka Torsson. She runs our tech interests in the Netherlands. Anneka, this is Margot Trask.”

She spun around on her storky legs and stuck her hand out. Plastering a smile on my face, I shook her stupid hand and then crossed my arms.

“These are beautiful,” she purred. That made me like her a little better but I could see Declan’s expression and I did not like it one little bit.

“Thank you so much,” I said evenly.

“Margot’s been working practically around the clock for weeks,” Declan said.

“You know who would love these?” Anneka asked Declan. “Peter.”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, getting closer to the wall. “Peter would go nuts for these.”

They stood side by side in identical postures, looking at my new stuff like they’d been invited.

“You know I don’t really open my studio to guests,” I finally blurted out.

Declan turned around and quirked an eyebrow at me.

“You don’t? Since when?”

“Since never,” I lied.

Anneka looked at Declan in over-acted dismay.

“Artists,” he shrugged by way of explanation and reached out to take her elbow. “Let’s get you a cocktail OK?”

“Yes, thank you,” she simpered. “Margot, thank you so much for letting me peek!”

She gave me a gracious smile and glided out of the room while I shriveled, rooted to the spot. After about a minute of silent pep talks to my pride, I followed them out to the living room.

“What is that sound?” I heard her asking Declan.

“I got it!” I called out loudly, and diverted my path to the front door.

Kevin held out a bouquet of ranunculus and violets when I opened the door. I took it and held it to my nose, grinning at his thoughtfulness.

“Oh, is this a fancy dinner?” he asked. “I should have dressed up, huh.”

“Uh, no you’re fine,” I said, glancing at his khakis and the logo from his real estate company on his polo shirt. “Come on in. I have someone I want you to meet.”

He stepped awkwardly forward and I gave him my cheek to kiss but nothing else.

“We’re in the living room,” I said, leading the way.

“OK, this is fancy,” he muttered as the kitchen staff came into view. “Why didn’t you say?”

“Oh, they’re just here for the night,” I said, waving my hand. “Anneka? This is Kevin Kemper. Declan Burke? Kevin Kemper.”

Anneka and Kevin shook hands cordially while Declan squinted suspiciously at me. Then he pivoted and shook Kevin’s hand.

“Hey, Jackson?” he called out over his shoulder. “Come and meet Margot’s friend.”

Jackson came in through the sliding screen door from the pool and crossed the living room. His eyebrows knit together briefly but then smoothed and he glanced at me with an expression of mild surprise. I curdled a tiny bit.

Woops. I hadn’t really considered his feelings. Actually I hadn’t really considered that he had feelings.

“Jackson Burke,” he said, shaking Kevin’s hand and smiling handsomely. “You in real estate?”