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Maddox’s eyes widened with what appeared to be surprise, followed by delight, and trailed by curiosity. He extended a hand across the table.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paige.”
His palm smoldered against mine.
“You, too,” I said.
“Paige, it’s so good to finally meet you.” Kristin caught my hand before I could slide it back under the table.
I bared my teeth at her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yes, much better, thank God. I've never slept so many hours in my life. Henry, I’m so sorry. I hope you were able to find another model on such short notice.”
“Hold on.” Michelle raised her hand. “I thought you were still using Kristin for your next project.”
My father downed the last of his wine, presumably stalling for time. “Fortunately, I have another?—”
“He’s painting me,” I said.
Kristin gaped at us. “I’m sorry, but what the fuck did you just say?”
Her stunned reaction drew everyone’s attention to our end of the table. I smoothed my lips together to stop myself from grinning at her look of abject horror.
“You were sick,” I said simply. “He needed a model, and I was happy to fill in.”
My father’s hand tightened on my thigh. He wasn’t happy with me, not that I could blame him. I was out of control. Something reptilian slithered under my skin, provoking an itch I couldn’t scratch without tearing myself and everything around me to pieces.
Maddox’s brow arched as if to say, The plot thickens.
“That’s just…” Kristin stammered. “God, I don’t even know. I want to say brave but that doesn’t feel appropriate.”
Michelle leaned forward with obvious interest. “Brave, how so?”
Kristin shot my father a questioning look. “I don’t want to give too much away, but from what I recall, it’s a very intimate project.”
“He's been sketching me since I was little,” I said.
My father knocked my foot under the table. Tread carefully, baby girl.
“I just don’t think I could do that. I mean pose for my own father…like that. But if you’re fine with it, then that’s what matters.” Kristin waved her hand a touch too flippantly. She was obviously uncomfortable, but she didn’t want to risk alienating me or my father. “Knowing Henry, I’m sure it’s gonna be brilliant.”
A few others chimed in, eager to know more about this shocking new project. My father shrugged off their questions and kept his expression aloof. I snagged the last piece of prosciutto from the cheese board, savoring my triumph, and tried not to think about how well he and Kristin used to know each other.
“Who’s ready for another round?” Kristin asked, reaching for the nearest bottle of wine.
“Actually,” said Michelle, “we were just about to head back to Henry’s.”
“Now, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Maddox caught the host’s attention and motioned for the check. “I, for one, would love to get a look at this painting everyone’s talking about.”
Chapter Thirteen
My father insisted we leave a few minutes early so he could inform the doorman that we’d be receiving guests. I knew he wanted to be alone with me, somewhere he could confront me about the events I’d set into motion. Fortunately, I was saved from this interrogation for the time being by Maddox’s insistence that we share a cab with him and Kristin. She slid onto the leather seat after me and crossed her legs, graceful, birdlike. A seagull who would not stop squawking.
Maddox watched me in the rearview mirror from the passenger’s seat, his gaze bold and unwavering. He wanted me to know I was of interest to him.
We made small talk in the elevator, my father thumbing at his phone while Kristin rambled, and I made encouraging non-word noises with my throat. He hadn’t said a word to me since we’d left the restaurant, hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction. Still, I could sense his anger acutely in the muscles of my shoulders and neck, like gravity dragging me to the ground as we climbed skyward.
The metal doors parted. My father let us into the apartment, leaving the front door ajar for the remaining guests. He poured glasses of wine for Maddox and Kristin, and a tumbler of scotch for himself. I was about to pour myself a drink when my father put his hand over my glass.
