“I need to get dressed,” she told him.
He glanced at the dress on the end of thebed. “I’ll be in the living room.”
Aida waited until the door clicked shutbefore she stripped again and tugged the black dress over her head.The soft material hugged her body from her shoulders to just aboveher knees. She only had three dresses for the nights they hadshowings, and all of them were black, but this one was herfavorite. It made her feel sexy even though the style and materialwere as simple as it got.
She walked over to examine herself in thesmall mirror hanging over her bureau. She shifted through the boxon top of her bureau as she searched for her concealer. Finallylocating the little tube, she dabbed some concealer on the shadowsunder her eyes; it didn’t erase them, but at least she no longerresembled a raccoon.
Satisfied she didn’t look like one of thewalking dead anymore, she slipped her feet into her heels and lefther room. Her hair swayed against her back as she walked into theliving room. Something about the way it swayed against her backmade her feel sexy and confident; by the time she entered theliving room, she was sure she had control over her life again.
Julian sat on the couch with his arm drapedcasually over the back of it. However, there was nothing casualabout the tension radiating from him. Something about the way hewatched her made her mouth go dry.
“Have a good night,” she said as she removedher jacket from the coatrack.
“I’ll see you later,” he murmured.
The hair on her nape rose, but she gave abrisk nod and left the apartment.
CHAPTER 15
Aida kept her smile plastered in place while shemingled with the people examining every inch of Owen’s paintings.She listened to them debate what he must have been thinking orfeeling while painting this one and what message he was trying toconvey in his art.
She bit her tongue against telling them he’dprobably been lost in the moment and not thinking at all. He’dsimply needed to get the images in his head out, and he did it witha brush and canvas. She also knew Owen well enough to know hewasn’t trying to convey any message; he loved to paint.
Usually, she enjoyed hearing their theoriesabout what the artist was feeling or the statement he was trying tomake, but tonight everything rubbed her the wrong way. She was tootired, and her emotions were still too raw. She dreamed of curlingup in the corner, drinking a bottle of champagne, and passing outuntil morning.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, andneither was avoiding Owen. When he wasn’t busy charming hispotential buyers, he was beside her, rambling on about how muchthey loved his work and the money he expected to earn tonight. Hedidn’t have to tell her any of that; she had ears too.
She didn’t say that to him but went into thecavernous storage room stuffed with empty crates, full crates,artwork, a couple of lockers, and a handful of caterers rushing toand from their van. They’d moved the alcohol into the room, but theappetizers they served remained in the refrigerators inside the vanparked outside the open back door.
She retrieved another bottle of champagnefrom an ice bucket and brought it into the gallery. A woman in awhite and black uniform gave her a smile when Aida reluctantlyhanded it over. Drinking a whole bottle seemed like the best worstidea she ever had. The champagne hangover would be worth it.
“Aida,” Nicolette said as she glided up toher. “Everything is going wonderfully.”
In her early fifties, Nicolette’s white hairwas pulled into a bun that emphasized the loveliness of her barelylined face. Her steel gray eyes shone from excitement and thevibrant lights of the room. Owen wasn’t the only one who was goingto make a fortune tonight, and Aida suspected Nicolette had dollarsigns running through her mind right now.
“It is,” Aida agreed.
Nicolette’s eyes narrowed as she craned herhead to inspect Aida more carefully. She rested her palm againstAida’s cheek and patted it. “Darling, you need to get morerest.”
Aida made herself smile. “Once the showing isover.”
Nicolette smiled before lifting her hand towave at somebody behind Aida. “Make sure the champagne keepsflowing,” she said before she sauntered away.
“I’m on it,” Aida muttered.
She’d put so much work into this showing tobe relegated to champagne bitch. Yikes, she was cranky and tired,she realized as she rubbed at her temples. Usually, this part onlyirritated her a little, but she had to look away from the pyramidof champagne glasses before she kicked the table over.
Aida glanced at the crowd of people andcringed. Most of the time, her favorite thing about showings wasmeeting new people. She recognized quite a few return buyers in thecrowd tonight, but there were also new faces she normally went outof her way to meet. Instead, she returned to the storage room andsat on a crate. She dropped her head into her hands to rub at hertemples.
She allowed herself a couple of minutes towallow in her melancholy before shoving herself back to her feetand returning to the main room. A woman walked by with a tray ofglasses, and Aida lifted a drink from it. She’d never consumedalcohol at a showing before, but she downed its contents in onegulp, coughed, and set the glass on another passing tray.
Feeling a little buoyed by the alcohol, sheplastered on a smile and made her way through the crowd. She wastalking with Alfred, an older gentleman who came to all ofNicolette’s showings, when she felt eyes burning into her.
The hair on her nape rose, her heartaccelerated, and she knew Julian was there before she turned tofind him standing across the room. Though he was speaking with apretty, young blonde, his eyes were focused on her as a small smilecurved the edges of his sexy mouth.
Aida’s teeth ground together, but she didn’tknow if she was more annoyed by the fact he’d come to her work orby the woman laughing as she rested her hand on his forearm. Julianstill wasn’t looking at the woman, but if he said,“Hey, want tohave sex?”she would be out the door with him in aheartbeat.
She didn’t need thisshitrightnow.
