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“Don’t let me take any more of your time.”
Peter Clay has the good sense to edge away for several feet before he turns and rushes into the crowd. And I turn back to the only person worth anything.
Daphne stands with her back straight and her hands clasped in front of her, as gorgeous as I’ve ever seen her in a dark blue gown that matches the color scheme of her painting. Delicate tendrils of her hair frame her face. The rest has been swept back in an elegant twist and dotted with pearls. For a person who’s standing so still, she’s breathing fast, her shoulders rising and falling above the gown’s neckline. Her makeup is dark and rich, making her look older than she is. I can see through it. I can see how young, and innocent, and fucking pure she is, and how dare he touch her.
How dare he.
Red lips part. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I had a piece to bid on.”
“Mine?”
“Who else’s?”
The corner of her mouth curves up ruefully. “Peter’s, maybe. Everyone else is very excited about it.”
Daphne’s smile fades away too soon. Her makeup is beautiful. Professional. But it doesn’t hide everything about her skin. She looks pale. Is it from that motherfucker, or whatever happened to inspire her painting?
I step closer and bend to speak into her ear. “I don’t give a fuck about his painting. I give a fuck that he had his hands on you.”
She gives a nervous laugh. “That’s how he is. He’s over the top and pushy. He would have let go eventually.”
He’ll never touch her again. That’s how this will play out. But I don’t say this to Daphne. There’s something far more pressing to talk about.
“I saw your painting,” I murmur into the shell of her ear. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her voice quavers. She’s close enough that I can feel the rest of her shaking along with it. The air around her trembles.
“Do you need to leave?” I’ll take her in my arms and carry her out now, if she says the word. Let these people speculate.
“I can’t,” she breathes. “I have to give a speech. And my security will be looking for me. I can’t leave with you.”
She can’t stay here. There are tears in her voice. I won’t have her breaking down in front of all these people. “When is the speech?”
“In an hour.”
“And do they follow you into the ladies’ room?”
“No.” She blushes. “Of course not.”
“Then take a walk with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Inside.” Daphne hesitates. “I know a place with no prying eyes, little painter. You’ll be safe there. Walk with me.”
More hesitation. My heart twists itself up. I want her out of this goddamn room. I want her in my arms. Patience is excruciating. Daphne tips her head up to look into my eyes. “I have to be back for the speech,” she says softly.
“I won’t steal you away,” I promise.
I won’t steal her yet.
“Okay.” Daphne threads her arm through mine. “Yes. Please. Let’s go somewhere else.”
Chapter Nineteen
Daphne
