Determined (Determined Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

I flopped onto the sofa and realized how tired I was.

Oh, yeah, Sharp. Tough life, jet-setting across the country in your boyfriend’s private jet and then having to wait while your security detail sweeps your giant hotel suite.
I shook my head at my silly thoughts and pulled out my cell phone.

Nothing from David. He might still be on the plane. I decided to text him.

Got in safe. Wanted you to know. The hotel is great. Hope Tokyo is going well. Miss you.

I waited for a response. Nothing. Oh well. I put the phone away.

Thomas returned. “All clear, Miss.”

“Thanks Thomas. Which bedroom do you want?” I assumed he’d take one of the four.

“Oh, no, Miss. I will be in the attached security quarters.” He pointed to a door near the elevator. “Just knock or call if you need anything. I will be literally twenty feet away.” Security quarters? What kind of patrons did this hotel normally host?

“Oh, okay. Thanks. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to unpack and catch up on email.”

“Very good, Miss.” He turned on his heel and vanished through the security door.

~

Unpacking took all of three seconds. I had only brought a couple of dresses and an equal number of shoes. I pulled out my laptop and ventured out onto the deck. I made myself comfortable on a chaise lounge chair and turned on the computer.

I scanned my inbox for David’s name. Nothing. Just an email from my mom asking about Christmas plans. As I sat out there in the warm breeze, Christmas felt months away. I shut my laptop and promised myself I’d answer her later. I put the computer off to the side and closed my eyes.

I was just drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed a couple of times. I rubbed my eyes and rolled over to check it. It was Evan.

Samantha, are you in town yet?

There’s a party tonight at Collins Park.

A lot of the New York gallerists are going.

It would be good for you to come.

My introvert instincts wanted to stay in, order room service, and take advantage of the hotels free HBO. But I didn’t fly halfway across the country to be a hermit. I did it for my career, for networking. I probably wouldn’t get another chance like this again. I texted him back.

Hey, yes, just checked in.

I’ll be there. What time should I meet you?

I waited.

Nine o’clock.

I’ll meet you at the main tent.

I fired off a response.

Great. See you then.

I breathed a sigh of relief. That gave me almost six hours just to relax and recoup. I set my alarm and laid back in the chaise, returning to my nap.

~

That evening, I emerged onto the sidewalk outside the Setai. It was dark, but the air was still warm. I was wearing one of the dresses I had packed—a lightweight poplin number, and I tugged on its hem as I headed down the street. I knew Thomas was somewhere behind me, keeping his distance. It was oddly comforting in this new city. The park was less than a block from the hotel, so I got there quickly. Scanning the area, I saw Evan across the square, typing furiously into his cell phone. I called out, and he looked up as I approached.

“Hey, Sam, glad you made it.” He leaned in and gave me an awkward mock-hug.

“Hey, Evan. I’m so glad to be here. Thank you again for inviting me. This place is awesome.” I looked around at the string lights that decorated the park. They had done up the place as an outdoor exhibit space. There were installations and sculptures sprinkled throughout the space, accented by tons of beautiful, artsy looking people. It was intimidating but very glamourous. Evan looked at me.

“So, where are you staying?”

“Oh, the ... uh,” I paused, “The Setai.” I glanced down at my feet and then out into the crowd.

“Oh of course. So you
are
dating David Keith?”

How did he know?

“The hotel give it away?”

“Well, I’m staying at the Hilton. Just saying.” He flashed a grin at me, and then I remembered—he probably saw us at the gallery that night.

“So, how does this event work?” I asked him.

He looked at me, amused. “Well ... we walk around ... and talk with people ... and look at art.” He spoke slowly, like he was explaining to a child.

I blushed.
Sheesh, I’m new at this. You don’t have to be a jerk about it.
I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering myself.

“Lead the way.” And I gestured forward with my hand. I was determined to get something out of this trip, even if it meant putting up with a pompous gallery owner.

“Something to drink?”

“Please.” We walked over to the bar and Evan got us a couple glasses of sparkling wine. Once we got out amongst other attendees and got some alcohol into us, Evan’s attitude improved. He really was an excellent networker. He knew lots of people there, and he introduced me to all of them. We were on the south side of the exhibition when Evan saw yet another person who he knew.

“Camille!” Evan waved across the lawn. A young blond woman raised her head and looked over at us. Her eyes lit up, and she walked over.

“Evan Carmichael. Long time no see.” She hugged him.

“Hello, Camille. How is Mike?” Evan looked genuinely glad to see her.

“He is good, good. He’s in Finland this week and was so bummed he couldn’t be here.”

“Camille, this is Sam Sharp. Sam works for the Kinsler Gallery in Oakland.” I stuck my hand out. “And, she is dating David Keith.”

Her eyes widened at the mention of David. I glanced at Evan—why did he have to say that? I didn’t want to use David’s name to my advantage at this event. I wanted to make it on my own.

“Oh really?” Her eyes trained on me as she took my outstretched hand.

“Um, yeah,” I stammered.

“And how do you like the Kinsler Gallery? Curtis is delightful, isn’t he?” She was smiling, but her eyes were like ice.

“He’s amazing.”

“Sam, Camille runs Essex Gallery, both the New York and San Francisco branches.” His phone buzzed. “Excuse me for a moment ladies.” He turned to the side to take the call.

Camille pulled me in close, her eyebrows raised.

“Can I give you some advice? Woman to woman?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Don’t bother with David.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t waste your time. Look, I don’t know you, but clearly you are young and beautiful. He never stays with anyone for long, so don’t get too comfortable.”

“Did you two ...?” I asked, probing for more information. I was starting to get really tired of these ‘helpful interventions. ‘I figured I might as well start using them for research.

“Oh, no,” she laughed, “but I’ve had friends get their hearts broken. I’m just trying to help. Besides, Evan seems keen on you.”

She pulled back as Evan rejoined the conversation, and her face quickly returned to an expressionless state. It was bizarre.

“Evan dear, I have to go say hello to someone, but we really should get a drink next time I’m in the city.”

“Of course, Camille. Give me a ring next time you are around.” He leaned in and hugged her goodbye. She moved over to me, repeating the gesture.

“Good luck,” she whispered, and I couldn’t tell if her words were sincere. I stared at her as she walked away and cool anger started to slowly build inside me. She didn’t know my situation. She didn’t know David—and she didn’t know who David was with me. I made a mental note to steer clear of her for the remainder of the weekend.

~

At the end of the night, Evan walked me back to the hotel. My feet were exhausted, and I was ready to hit the sack.

“So, Sam, what did you think of your first Art Basel experience?”

“Great. Overwhelming. But great. Thanks again for letting me tag along.”

I was ready to go upstairs, but Evan didn’t seem to want to leave. I tried to ply him with questions.

“So, um, tomorrow. What’s the plan?”

“Exhibition Hall. Do you want to meet for breakfast?”

It was late, and I was beat. It was time for a little white lie. “Actually, I thought I might go for a run in the morning. Do you want to meet after that? I can text you.” I had no intention of waking up early for a run. I was going to use the time to sleep in.

He looked at me, and I couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Was he mad? Or disappointed? His voice didn’t betray any emotion.

“Yeah, Sam. That’s fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I was too tired to fight. I said goodnight and headed into the hotel, Thomas at my heel.

~

Friday morning I woke up around nine and ordered room service for breakfast. Once it arrived, I settled down at the coffee table and texted Evan.

Hey, I kind of want to try my hand at networking on my own this morning. Would that be okay? Please don’t hate me.

He responded a minute later.

Sure, fine. Have fun.

It was a short response, but I didn’t give it another thought, and instead chomped on my French toast while watching the morning news.

It was just after ten o’clock by the time I arrived at the Exhibit Hall. The floor was all mine for the morning.

I wandered the hall, decked out in my official purple ID tag, awash in an enormous sea of art. Most of it was very contemporary—bright and strange, shiny and grotesque. I loved it. I gave out all of my business cards.

By about 2:30, however, my feet were hurting, and I was starving. I decided to head back to the hotel and treat myself to some more room service. After all, I had to pace myself. This show was several days long, plus David was finally coming in to town tonight. I was so excited.

~

Back in the suite, I turned to Thomas as he retreated to his room.

“I’m going to order some room service. Would you like anything?”

“No, thank you, Miss. I just had a protein bar.”

I eyed him, skeptically.

“Thomas, would you like the afternoon off?” This guy had been at my side for about forty-eight hours straight. I could use some breathing room, and I’m sure he could, too.

“I don’t think Mr. Keith would approve.”

“Mr. Keith doesn’t get in until eight o’clock,” I said conspiratorially. He looked at me, not sure how to respond. “Come on Thomas, live a little. I’m just going to be here chowing down and watching television. I’ll be
fine.
Why don’t you take a trip to the beach or hit up a museum?”

He looked at me, mentally weighing his options, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I do suppose I could use a round at the hotel gym. I haven’t been able to keep up my routine while we’ve been on the road.”

“That’s the spirit, Thomas!” I smiled and put my hands together.

“I’ll be back in one hour. Promise me you won’t go anywhere?”

“Scouts’ honor.” I held up my hand.

“Very good, Miss.” He retreated to his room, reemerging a minute later in shorts and a t-shirt.

“Have a good time, Thomas.”

“I will be right downstairs. Please call me on my cell if you need me.”

“Go, Thomas.”

“Yes, Miss Sharp,” he said as he got into the elevator car, “See you soon.”

As soon as the doors closed, I exhaled and smiled.
Alone at last!
I glanced around the penthouse suite, and realized that I hadn’t really been able to relax while I’d been there. Having a security detail will do that to a girl, apparently.

I changed into a hotel robe and ordered a cheeseburger with fries from room service. I flipped on the television, and found
Pretty Woman
playing on cable. I stretched across the sofa, taking up as much space as I could. Watching Julia Roberts in the hotel suite, I couldn’t help but draw parallels to my own current state.

But you’re not a prostitute
, I told myself firmly.
David had you before you even had an inkling of who he was. The attraction, it was animal. You didn’t have a choice in it.
I sat there recalling the details of our first meeting, the role he played with the spilt wine, and a smile appeared on my face. I checked the time. Almost four o’clock. Only four more hours until I would see him. My body ached for him. During a commercial break, the front door chimed, and a hotel staffer brought in an elaborate cart, complete with fine silver and a white tablecloth.

“Your meal, Mrs. Keith,” she said, as she glanced around the suite, “Where would you like it?”

“Oh just by the table is fine.” I ran over to the table in the foyer and snatched a few bills from my purse. As she left, I handed them to her. “Thanks very much.”

“Have a wonderful day, Mrs. Keith.” My stomach danced at the salutation as the elevator doors closed. I couldn’t wait to see my
Mr.
Keith
in a few hours.

I took the silver platter over to the coffee table and leisurely settled into my meal while Julia Roberts wrapped her legs around Richard Gere.

I was halfway into my burger when the hotel phone rang. I reached behind the sofa to answer it.

“Yes?”

“Mrs. Keith? This is the front desk. I have an Evan Carmichael to see you?”

Evan? What was he doing here? Strange.

“Send him up.” I figured I might as well find out what he wanted.

The elevator dinged, and I walked over to greet him. Evan stumbled out of the car. It wasn’t even five o’clock in the afternoon, and he reeked of alcohol. His shirt was untucked and partially unbuttoned. Was he drunk?

“Evan?”

“Hey, Sam. There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” He smiled languidly at me.

Looking for me? Why hadn’t he just texted? Boy, he really didn’t look good.

“What’s up, Evan? Are you okay?”

He stood up straight and braced himself by putting his hands on his hips. He walked past me and down the hall, and as he walked he let out a long, slow whistle.

“Damn, Sam. Pretty nice digs. David must be quite the sugar daddy.”

I frowned. “Thank you, but it’s not like that.”

“Oh, yeah? Look at this place. Don’t be ashamed, Sammie, most women love money.” He picked up a glass seashell, examined it, and placed it back down on the table. “And shoes. And cars. And fancy hotel suites.” He looked around the room and made motions with his hands. And there it was again, that patronizing tone from last night. I hated it. He wandered over to the kitchen and started opening cabinet after cabinet.