Billionaire Erotic Romance Boxed Set: 7 Steamy Full-Length Novels (102 page)

When I grew tired of drawing people, I ventured outside. The days were starting to get longer and warmer, so I would use that opportunity to set up my art supplies in the shade of the front yard. From there I had the spectacular view of the emerald green pastures and Victor’s horses grazing and frolicking in the sunshine. Sometimes, however, I would drop everything to run over to the barn and ride Victor’s mare, Butterscotch, in the pastures under the sunny, spring sky.

When the night of the Lotus Art Gallery opening arrived, Victor allowed Karen and me to drive into town to pick out an outfit to wear.

“It was nice of Mr. Draper to give us the day off.”

I nodded. “We’ve only ever seen each other at the mansion,” I told Karen. “It seems kind of strange for us to not be working together.”

At Victor’s suggestion, we went to an expensive boutique at the edge of town, and right when we headed through the door we were bombarded by a salesperson greeting us.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked as she walked up to us.

“Oh I—” This was the first time I had walked into a clothing store since I had lost my memory; Victor was the one who picked out clothes for me to wear and he was uncannily good at it. Now faced with the task on my own and surrounded by so many items of clothing, I was starting to become a bit overwhelmed. There were too many options to choose from but I wanted to make sure I was dressed appropriately for my first gallery opening. “I’m looking for something dressy, but not too dressy…but also casual, but not too casual.” I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. “I hope that makes sense.”

The salesperson smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I get that all the time.” She gestured with her hand, “Follow me, I think I know a skirt that will look fantastic on you.”

I raised my eyebrows at Karen and she gave me a supportive smile as we followed the woman to the back of the store. I shimmied around racks of clothes lined up like little armies only to be bombarded by a wall of skirts, blouses, and dresses.

The salesperson took a skirt from a rack and held it up to me. It was a moss green cotton material, high waisted and cropped just above the knees. Near the hem were small embroidered flowers. “We can pair this with a white top, perhaps something a bit sheer, that you could wear a camisole underneath. Try this.”

“Okay,” I said as she handed me the clothing. I tried the outfit on in the fitting room, stepping out to show Karen when I was finally dressed.

“It looks like what you wanted,” she said, looking at my outfit from the top to the bottom. “Are you happy with it?” She must have noted the hesitant look on my face.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s formal enough for a gallery opening? Do you know what Victor will be wearing?"

Karen laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be in his usual suit. What’re you so worried about?”

“I just want to look nice.” In reality I didn’t want to embarrass Victor or to stick out in a crowd of fellow artists. I gave myself a once-over in the fitting room mirror and decided that I couldn’t depend on Victor to dress me forever—for once we would be at a social function with people I could relate to. I was determined not to let my skirt be the one thing they remembered about me.

Twenty minutes later we were out the door, my new outfit neatly folded in a large shopping bag. Karen and I decided to take advantage of our outing and stopped by a small Italian bistro for lunch.

After we ordered our food, we chatted a bit. Although we saw each other every day, we really hadn’t had a chance to sit down and get to know each other more since my first few days of living with Victor.

“How’re things going?” she asked me. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

Did my mother’s eyes do that?

“I’m… happy,” I told her. “And maybe a bit confused.” I wasn’t worried about revealing too much to her. I knew that whatever I told her wouldn’t leave the restaurant. “Victor has shared so much with me, yet somehow he remains distant. I’m pretty sure he cares about me, but he’s never said it.”

“I think he’s confused,” Karen said. “I know he’s a kind man at heart, but ever since he was a child he’s had an air of darkness about him.” She leaned forward. “How do
you
feel about
him
?”

I closed my eyes and pictured Victor; the way he would kiss me on my head, the way he spoke to me, the exotic, yet passionate way we have sex. I realized that I always looked forward to seeing him. “I think I’m beginning to fall in love with him,” I said slowly. “If this tingling feeling inside of me whenever I think of him is any indication, then it must be true.”

“Have you ever thought about telling him?”

“I did while we were in Paris, in so many words at least.” I toyed with the cloth napkin on my lap. “And my feelings have grown even stronger, but he hasn’t mentioned anything about it since. Even if he does have feelings for me, I’m just his... employee.” I believed that Victor didn’t see me as just his maid, but it would be my own fault if I convinced myself that our relationship was anything more than an arrangement.

“You would be surprised by how much he’s changed since you’ve arrived.”

I felt a heat creep into my cheeks, nervous about what she might say. “Really? How so?”

Karen leaned back in her chair, her eyes becoming distant. “Before you moved in we would barely see him, unless he needed something from us. And when we did see him, he would never laugh, wouldn’t even crack a smile.” Karen reached across the table to grab my hands. “And then you came along. I really noticed it when you got back from Paris. Mr. Draper seems a lot happier; he talks to us more, cracks jokes now and then, and he smiles. I think you’re good for him, Dove. Don’t give up on him.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her words, even though I didn’t know if they were true. One thing was for certain, though: I wasn’t sure if I could give up on Victor even if I tried.

***

Victor and I arrived at the Lotus Art Gallery at seven thirty, a half hour after its opening, but the place was already packed with people. Women in long, elegant dresses gathered near the cocktail table while men in suits greeted each other with an air of familiarity. I felt slightly out of place until I noticed that dozens of paintings hung against white walls with bright lights underneath illuminating them. I remembered the trip to Paris and the afternoon Victor and I had spent at the Louvre. I felt now the way I had felt then: awestruck. I was envious of the artists who were lucky enough to have their work on display, but my admiration of them overshadowed any jealousy.

“This is amazing,” I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else, but Victor overheard me.

“I knew you’d like it.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the wall of paintings. “I’m going to say a quick hello to someone, I’ll be right back.”

He left me standing in front of a massive experimental piece, its neon colors swirling in and out of another, creating a tornado-like image against a black background.

“What do you think of this one?” A tall woman who appeared to be in her late thirties appeared next to me adorned in a beaded silk gown. She towered over me in her heels and I tensed up at the idea of critiquing someone else’s art.

“I think its bold.” I felt like that was the safest response.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

It was clear she wasn’t going to back down until I gave her my honest opinion so I considered the painting for a moment longer, secretly hoping that she wasn’t the artist. “I think the use of neon was smart, it immediately draws the gaze, but I’m not sure it should have been set up next to a still-life. The contrast makes the focus of the gallery look a little confused.” Before I’d even finished my sentence, my cheeks grew hot with embarrassment—I wasn’t qualified to be making any judgements.

“That’s an excellent observation,” the woman said as she turned to me and reached out her hand. “I’m Marissa Jones, the lead art director of Lotus.”

My jaw clenched in horror as I shook her hand; I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “Ms. Jones, I’m so—”

“You know, we could really use a sharp eye around here,” she cut me off. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the other pieces in the gallery.”

“My thoughts?” I asked, shell shocked.

“Yes! Currently, we only have a part-time position available but I like a girl who speaks her mind.” Marissa laughed.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I was eager to become a bigger part of the art world in San Francisco, and I certainly wanted to put my knowledge to good use, but Victor and I had an agreement—in exchange for food and shelter, I was supposed to work as his maid. If Marissa offered me the position, it wouldn’t really be up to me if I could take it. And what if he did let me take it? I wasn’t sure I could work my first real job in two years and still give him the kind of attention the contract demanded. There definitely wasn’t a clause that would let me off the hook for being too tired or too busy for sex, and, honestly, I didn’t want to be off the hook. Our sex life had reached a whole new level—I had never really known what it was like to have my mind blown until my first experience in his bedroom.

But I wanted the job, I was excited about the idea of being surrounded by art all day every day, and I couldn’t deny that.

I asked Marissa if she could give me a minute and walked over to Victor, hoping he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of me working outside of the mansion.

“I think Marissa Jones might offer me a job,” I said bashfully.

“You think or you know?” he asked, turning away from the crowd he’d been talking to and leaning in to me.

“She says they have a part-time position available and wants to hear my thoughts on the exhibit. If I impress her, I think she’ll offer.”

“I was hoping you’d have a chance to show off some of your knowledge tonight. Don’t keep her waiting too long.”

“Wait, you’re okay with this?”

“You’re not my prisoner, Dove. If you want the job, I’m not going to stand in your way.” He smiled at me and nudged me back toward Marissa.

I spent the next hour offering my opinions on the pieces in the gallery and made a few layout suggestions. I practically kissed Marissa when she offered me the job at the end of the evening.

Dove the maid was out. I would be an assistant curator of the city’s newest art gallery from now on.

Chapter Eighteen

The week before my first day in the office was filled with activity. Because he was a prominent and wealthy man, Victor had to attend many social functions. This wasn’t anything new to me, but the fact that he wanted to take me to each and every one of them was. As I watched him tirelessly weave in and out of conversations, I realized that he sometimes made sudden trips to places like Paris to escape from it all. I admired his ability to remain so composed at every single function. If it hadn’t been for his hand in mine, I would have felt like hiding.

Whatever Victor was doing at work was causing a lot of press, so there were cameras left and right whenever we arrived at parties.

People seemed to be interested in me during our first few outings, and Victor would tell them that I was an artist working for the Lotus Gallery. I guess I didn’t know how prestigious the gallery was until the cameras were pointed in my face. I was thankful that I took extra care to make sure my liquid eyeliner was symmetrical on both sides considering that my face would be splattered on celebrity news TV or tabloids.

“I haven’t even started working yet,” I whispered to Victor as we ducked into a large bar on Market Street, finally escaping the paparazzi. We found a table and ordered drinks to unwind from the earlier intensity of the evening.

“These people are fishing for stories. They’re not going to care about the little details, unless the little details are interesting enough.” I had to admit that it was nice to finally be recognized for my own work and not for being the woman on Victor’s arm.

“Have you been in the tabloids?” I asked hesitantly. I wasn’t sure why I’d never thought of it before; Victor was one of the wealthiest people in America, of course the media would be interested in him.

“More than I’d like to admit.” I imagined a smartly dressed Evelyn standing proudly by Victor’s side on the front page of the “Enquirer” but quickly pushed the thought from my mind.

“All this talk about my job is making me nervous for my first day.” I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for the working world after spending so many years jobless. I didn’t think my experience recycling cans was going to help me much in an art gallery, and my time as Victor’s maid wasn’t exactly conventional.

“They get hundreds of applicants at Lotus, they’re not going to take just anyone,” Victor said.

“They could’ve hired me because of you.” I stared into the drink in my hand, afraid that the look on Victor’s face might reaffirm my suspicions. He was a powerful and well-connected man, there wasn’t a person in the city who would say no to him.

“Dove, I didn’t have anything to do with this job offer.” He reached across the table and set his large, calloused hands over mine, calming the anxiety that had risen in me.

“We should go home after these drinks,” I said, smiling up at him. “I want to be fresh for my first day.”

***

I woke up in my own bed at six thirty a.m., having avoided Victor’s room last evening for fear of being up all night. I had just enough time to take a shower and get dressed. Oscar said that he would drive me to the city and pick me up at the end of the day, warning me that public transportation would take forever.

I quickly showered and changed into dress pants and a plain white blouse, a nice change from my former maid attire. I brushed my damp hair and braided it before pinning it around my head into a bun, letting a few locks fall around my face for a soft touch. I twirled around in front of the mirror a few times, making sure that everything was in place and admiring my new professional look. I glanced over at Victor’s closed door, trying not to think of him naked in bed. I guess sleeping in separate rooms didn’t exactly sharpen my focus, the thought of him seemed to always distract me.