AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The sun poured warm over her skin and the dove’s white feathers gleamed. “I love you, sweet girl.” She stroked her downy chest. The bird cocked her head and cooed as if sensing her good-bye. Carina hesitated. She knew she’d never see Gabby again, knew she’d fly to her home and leave her behind, completely healed.
The lightbulb moment clicked on and splintered in a thousand pieces.
Max loved her.
Hadn’t she doubted herself for too long? When was it time to grab for her happiness, with a clear understanding she was deserving of Maximus Gray and everything he had to offer? These past few weeks without him showed her she could stand on her own now. Go after her dreams. Fail and not fall apart. Ask for what she wanted without fear.
She could live without him, but she didn’t want to.
Her husband loved her, but he needed a woman who was worthy. She never believed in herself enough to give him everything, always afraid he’d realize she wasn’t good enough.
Her mother’s words swirled in her head and made her dizzy.
Isn’t it time you believe in yourself?
Yes.
“It’s time to fly, Gabby.”
Carina threw up her arm. The dove’s wings flapped and she took flight. Soaring gracefully up into the sky, her white wings stark against the wood of the trees, she watched her disappear. Fat puffy clouds floated by, until there was nothing left.
Her tummy steadied. A deep knowledge pulsed from within. She trusted the instinct and realized it was time to move forward. Time to be the woman she was always meant to be.
Time to claim her husband.
Chapter Sixteen
Max looked up at the sign over the trendy gallery in SoHo.
Carina’s name was scrawled in fancy calligraphy, and cheery white lights strung around the outside of the space caught the attention of onlookers. He dragged in a lungful of air and hoped he had enough strength to get through the evening.
The invitation to her first show was both startling and ironic. Pride choked him. His talented, beautiful wife finally knew her worth and he wasn’t here to celebrate with her. But he couldn’t deny the need to see her one more time in her glory. Needed to lay his gaze on her work, while he remembered making love to her in the workroom as he covered her in chocolate body paint.
His gut coiled into a solid ball of regret.
Max opened the door and walked in.
The space was large and open, with wide pillars naturally separating the room into quadrants. A full bar and cocktail waiters strolled around giving out champagne, wine, and a variety of appetizers. Crowds milled around in various groups, chatting and laughing as they made their way around the room. His gaze went directly to the right corner, almost as if he scented her presence.
She threw back her head and laughed at something a man said. Her long black dress shimmered under the light. Her dark curls were pinned up high on her head and tamed, but Max knew one slide of the pin would make that silky mess tumble over her shoulders in wild abandon. Her eyes glowed with an inner joy and confidence he’d never seen before.
Yes. She was happy without him.
Choking back his emotion, he turned away and walked to the first display.
Shock held him immobile.
He expected portraits with heart and soul, an easy warmth she always translated in the few pieces of her work he’d been lucky enough to see. These seemed like they were from a different artist.
Raw and gritty, shadowed in black, gray, and an occasional slice of red, the couples on the canvas were displayed in different erotic poses. A woman arched against the wall as her lover pressed his lips to her naked br**sts. The bodies pulsed with an earthy sensuality but teetered right on the border, as the window sketched on the right seemed to be a mirror between privacy and the outside world. The onlooker seemed almost a voyeur to the scene, stretching the mind enough so one needed to keep looking at the painting.
As Max moved from one to another, the couple seemed caught in a web of the relationship. One canvas sketched out the vulnerability and want on the woman’s face as she gazed at her lover. His harsh profile showed nothing but hard lines and a steely resolve. Another detailed the couple with foreheads touching, lips a whisper away, eyes hooded from the viewer so he was forced to imagine what they were thinking.
Max gazed at each painting with a hunger he rarely felt. The work was extraordinary, and he realized his wife’s talent crackled with a passion and depth that could rock the entire art world. He was looking at the beginning of a long, successful career. No wonder Sawyer sounded so excited. He’d discovered the latest hot new artist on the block.
People swarmed around him and tried to engage him in conversation. Waiters stopped and asked if he needed anything. He never answered. Just soaked up her work and felt as if he knew the last secret part of her soul she kept hidden. Now, it revealed itself in full naked glory.
Dio, he loved her.
He arrived early to make sure he avoided Alexa, Nick, Michael, and Maggie. His plan was ridiculous and all male. Sneak in, see her work, torture himself, and sneak back out. Go home and get rip-roaring drunk with his dog at his feet.
“Max?”
Her voice rang in his ears. Husky like Eve. Sweet like an angel. He clenched his teeth and turned.
She smiled at him with such warmth he thought he’d get sunburn. Primitive need wracked through him like convulsions but he fought it off and managed to smile back. “Hi, Carina.”
“You came.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I had to see.”
Why did she look at him with such greed? To torture him? “I’m glad. What did you think?”
His voice ripped from his throat. “They are . . . everything.”
She blinked as if fighting tears, and another piece of his heart tore off. He’d have nothing left by the end of the conversation. “You didn’t see the final one. It’s back here under a separate display.”
“I can’t, Carina. I have to go.”
“No! Please, Max. I need to show you.”
Was this what love felt like? A wrenching pain that pushed you underwater like a riptide and refused to let you surface? He swallowed back his second protest and nodded. “Okay.”
He followed her toward the back of the room and up a few steps. The gallery opened up to a showcase under a spotlight. The painting hung from the ceiling in single splendor. Max took a step forward and looked up.
It was him.
The title boldly slashed across the top: Maximus. Bare-chested. Barefoot. Jeans riding low on hips. Features half blurred and cast in shadow, he stared straight into the onlooker’s eyes and held his gaze. A swirling array of emotions ravaged his face, his eyes a storm of such power Max was rocked to the core. He saw everything in that glance. Vulnerability. Determination. A hint of arrogance. Need. And an ability to love.
