AllFreeNovel
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“I fucking love them. They aren’t you.”
“They are me. The real me.”
“Interesting.” He glances over my head at Nick and then back to me. “Come. Let’s go meet important people. Alone.”
I turn to Nick, and his hand settles at my hip. “I’m fine, sweetheart. This is about you, not me.”
“I know, but—”
“Go. Meet people.”
“What are you doing to do?”
“Drink insanely expensive whiskey, watch people, and find us a spot in the ceremony room.”
Josh steps to my side. “Time is ticking.”
I push to my toes and kiss Nick. He cups my head and kisses me again, this time with a sexy slide of tongue. We share a smile, and I join Josh, who looks more than a little irritated, but any thought that he might voice that irritation is quickly sidetracked. Almost instantly, within a few steps, we’re intercepted by one of the show’s sponsors, who wants me to meet another sponsor out on the party floor. It snowballs from there, though not many of the meetings feel important. I search for Nick and occasionally find him in the crowd, sharing a small smile with him.
This continues for a full hour before Josh points at a small standing table that is now free. “Let’s talk,” he says as we claim our spots across from each other, his fingers thrumming on the wooden table. “I hate to do this here, but it’s important, since the rest of the weekend will be open to the public. And it’s clearly a challenge to get you away from Nick ‘fucking’ Rogers.”
“Nick ‘fucking’ Rogers is supportive of me and you. He rented the bungalow in the hotel with the thought that you could invite clients for a private party this weekend.”
He ignores the offer. “You paintedhim.”
“Yes. And obviously it was a good decision. Every person we met mentioned that painting.”
“The painting is good, but as your agent, I see a habit.”
“Habit?”
“Things become bigger than your art. Macom. The winery. Nick.”
“You and Macom made him bigger than me.”
“That’s not true,” Josh says. “He was my client before you. I was trapped in your own submission to him. And now it’s happening with Nick. You didn’t want to leave him to meet people.”
“He’s my guest and inspired me to paint again. He helped me get a grip on the winery.”
“And there it is. I told you. He fucks you and uses you. He wants the winery.”
“He does not want the winery.”
“Make sure before it becomes a devastating realization that shoves you into a corner again. Because we’re going to get offers. I don’t want either of us to look like fools. Better yet, sell the damn winery, Faith. It’s a distraction. You’ve made eighty thousand dollars in two weeks. More will follow.”
“The winery isn’t a distraction,” I say, though those words might be a bit half-hearted. “Additionally,” I add, “I moved to San Francisco, and I’m working at the Allure Gallery with Chris and Sara Merit. The pay and the opportunity are both great.”
“Why am I just now finding this out?”
“You knew I was part of the gallery opening.”
“Why am I just now finding this out?” he repeats.
“I don’t want Chris used to move my career ahead,” I say, only now admitting that very real concern. “Chris and Sara are my friends. Promise me.”
“I’ll talk to Chris—”
“No. No, you will not. Promise me.”
