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“Or after all these years, I suddenly discover my stepmother has weird artistic tastes.”
“I only met her recently, but I have a feeling Bianca thrives on perfection in every aspect of her life. And succeeds.”
“Do you have a secret crush?” London pretends to look scandalized. “My poor father.” She puts the back of her hand over her eyes in an over-dramatic gesture.
“Did you think I was coming to your place because of you, Chils?” I taunt her.
She straightens, biting her lip, but the glee reaches her eyes, and she fails at her pretense to look offended. “Well, of course you’re only coming for chess, I’d hope.”
“Is this a fishing expedition?” I lean in closer and she mirrors my move. “Do you want to hear I’m coming to catch a glimpse of you, Chils?” I drop my eyes to her lips and she parts them, inhaling sharply.
The air between us zaps with an unspoken need. The mood shifts and deepens into the realm we seem to always touch but never fully explore. She may fight this all she wants, but she craves me as much as I lust after her.
“I always leave when you’re around to avoid you.” Her words are meant to smart, but the tone is pure seduction.
I quirk my eyebrow and roll my lips, suppressing a grin. “Because you can’t control yourself around me.”
“London, am I interrupting?” A beautiful blond approaches our table. And yes, she is interrupting. Fuck.
We jerk away from each other.
“Violet.” London stands up to greet the woman. “We missed you at the fundraiser.”
“I’m so sorry. The kids were sick…”
I tune her out. The man beside her glowers at the world around him, while simultaneously eating her up with an intense look. At first glance he looks like a bodyguard, but his eyes clearly claim the woman, so he must be more. Her husband, perhaps.
But there are bodyguards around the room, I notice. Who are these two? The woman seems familiar.
“Dominic.” London’s voice snaps me back to the conversation. “May I introduce Violet Mathison and her husband, Art?” London shoots daggers from her eyes. I might have ignored the initial attempt at an introduction.
“I’m sorry. Nice to meet you.” I stand up and shake Violet’s hand. Hearing the name, it’s all coming back. I’ve never met her, but she was with Rocco’s wife when Vanessa got stabbed.
I turn to shake Art’s hand. The fucker has a mean handshake, but otherwise he just nods. Five years ago, this man made evidence disappear in Vanessa’s incident with impressive efficiency.
He glares, probably recognizing me as well.
“Art, manners.” Violet puts her hand on his chest and his features soften immediately. “It was nice to run into you, London.” She smiles at us.
“Have a lovely evening.” London beams. This is her outside persona I’ve seen at the gala. She plays it so genuinely, it’s hard to believe it’s just a mask. Or is the snarly Chils a mask for me?
“Will I see you at the hospice on the twenty-sixth?” London asks before the couple leaves.
“Yes, count on me like every year. And please, when you see him, give Andrea a nudge. I’ve been hunting him down for years now.”
“I’ll talk to him. See you soon.”
The couple walks away to their table.
“I thought you said you don’t talk to Andrea.” I wish we could jump back into the previous intimacy, but that moment left with the Mathisons.
“Oh, I talk to him. He doesn’t talk to me. I’m surprised you remember.” London takes another sip of her drink, leaning back, taking her warmth and scent with her.
“I listen.” I cross my legs and relax against the chair.
“Andrea is an artist. We used to be close when we were younger. I was the only sister willing to sit still for him when he was practicing drawing. When he had his first exhibition, I bought all his work. Fifty pieces. He got really mad.”
“Didn’t he get noticed after having sold out his first show? He should be grateful.”
