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I look at her, my focus regained. “I do.”
Her smile is brilliant, warm and enticing. “See? You understand more than you think.”
“If I had you with me at every gallery, I’d never be confused again.”
She laughs and looks at the toilet. “I can’t promise that. Some things just don’t make sense.”
I take her hand as easy as if I’ve done it a thousand times. She squeezes my fingers, her lips still turned up in a smile.
“Ready for the grand finale?” I lead her toward the door at the back of the gallery and into the store room.
She gasps and darts forward, pulling me with her to the Klimt that’s illuminated and shining in the relative darkness. “It’s so …” She pulls me to a stop in front of it and simply stares. The silence stretches, and I watch her. Her gaze moves all around the canvas, taking in every detail, every stroke of the brush. I take in the slight upturn at the end of her nose, the light sprinkling of freckles along her nose and cheeks gifted to her by a summer sun, the way her hair is slightly wavy as it falls past her shoulders, and the curve of her neck as it slides beneath her shirt and into the full swell of her breasts. I drink her in the same way she does a work of art, and I find myself needing to know her secrets, her meanings hidden in the way she smiles and the tone of her voice.
I realize Cadence is the artwork I want to explore, to lose myself in, to understand down to her very marrow.
She’s right–artisdangerous.
8
CADENCE
I’m on cloud nine the entire ride back to my place. I’ve never felt that way after a date. Not that I’ve had many of them, but still. I mean, this isn’t really a date, but it kinda sorta is. Isn’t it? Whatever it is, it’s been magical.
Vargas is nothing like I thought he would be. Instead of being nervous, I feel as though I can be myself. If I’m being completely honest, I can’t remember a time that I was this comfortable around someone. So much so that I haven’t stopped talking the whole time.
We’ve been sitting outside my place for a few minutes now. I know I’m rambling, but I don’t want the day to end. And by the way he’s looking at me, I think Vargas is on the same page. Or he’s just being courteous.
Either way, I don't want to come off as being clingy.You have to play it cool,I remind myself. I suppose I could ask what this is, but I know I’ll get the truth no matter his response. I’m not sure I want to hear that right now. I want to live in this moment for a bit longer whether it’s reality or not. Today has been so perfect I don’t want to ruin it. This is why I fought to move out of my dad’s house.
“I suppose this is where we part ways.”
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear. My eyes drop to his mouth, but I quickly look away, not wanting to give away what I really want. Again, he could only be being nice. He is, after all, trying to work a deal with my father.
“I should check on Sassy,” I say, not wanting to make this goodbye awkward even though I want to stay.
“I’m also walking you to your door.” Vargas gets out of the car, offering me his hand.
“Right.” I let him take my hand, but only until we make it to the lobby, where I spot Garfield at the front desk. I quickly jerk my hand from Vargas’s.
There is no way Garfield is going to keep that little detail from my father. Damn it. Vargas glances from me to the security guard.
Well, hell. Vargas is good at reading people too. It doesn’t stop him from putting his hand on my back and guiding me toward the elevator. He gives Garfield a glare unlike any I’ve ever seen.
“Wait right here,” Vargas tells me, heading straight for him. This can’t be good. I can’t see Vargas’s expression. His back is to me, but whatever he says to Garfield makes his eyes widen before he quickly nods his head up and down. I get the sense that Garfield won’t be saying anything to my father after that conversation.
When Vargas turns back to face me, the glare fades away, a half-smile taking its place. His eyes go soft around the edges. All my insides come to life as I fantasize about him looking at me differently than he does the rest of the world.
“Ready?”
“I suppose.” He puts his hand on my back to guide me again. “What did you say to him?”
“That if he knows what’s best for him, he won’t let anyone know I was ever here. That he’ll keep his mouth shut.”
I let out a puff of air in relief. “And he understood.”
Thank God. I don’t need my dad showing up tonight. He’s already been questioning my decision to move out. This thing with Vargas, whatever it is, would only make him more uneasy.
“He got the message. He’s not going to tell.” He reassures me as we step onto the elevator.
