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"Olivia's friend," Juliette said. "It's lovely to meet you." While there was warmth in her eyes, her hand was ice cold, and he wanted to shove his own hand in his pocket just to heat it back up.
"You, too," he said.
"Juliette organized this exhibition," Arthur continued. "She's the events director here at the museum."
"It looks to be amazing," he said, giving her a smile.
"I hope so. There are always so many last-minute details to worry about. But Gerard is important to the museum, to us personally. He's a good friend of Arthur's, and I want everything to be perfect."
He could hear the strain in her voice. "I'm sure it will be."
"Juliette and I met at a similar party about eighteen months ago," Arthur said, sliding his arm around his wife's waist. "We were married six months later, and we celebrated our anniversary at Christmas."
"That's very fast."
"When it's right, you know it." Arthur gave his wife a loving smile.
Juliette smiled back, but there was something a little forced about it.
"Mom," the beautiful brunette interrupted. "Victoria Waltham is looking for you, and she has fire in her eyes. Apparently, there's a problem with someone's ticket."
"Oh, dear. I better take care of that," Juliette said, hurrying over to speak to the museum director, who was standing by the entrance with an elderly couple.
"Callie, this is Flynn MacKenzie," Arthur said. "My stepdaughter Callie Harper."
"Hello," she said.
He extended his hand, wondering if her touch would be as cold as her mother's, but it wasn't—it was red-hot. A fiery warmth spread through him as their gazes met. Her dark-brown eyes made it almost impossible to look away or to let go, but as a question entered her gaze, he released her hand.
She stepped back, her tongue swiping across her lower lip, a flush of pink spreading across her cheeks. "Excuse me," she said. "I have to…find someone."
He felt inexplicably disappointed by her abrupt departure.
"That's Callie—never eager to spend more than one minute in my company," Arthur said with annoyance.
"Arthur, my old friend, and my most loyal patron," Gerard Bissette interrupted.
Flynn stepped back as Arthur and Gerard embraced.
"You look well," Arthur told Gerard.
"As do you. Who is your friend?"
"Flynn MacKenzie, meet Gerard Bissette, one of the most important artists of our time."
"I'm honored," he said.
"You look familiar. Have we met before?" Gerard asked, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.
"No," he said, having a feeling that Gerard might have met his father.
"Interesting. I rarely forget a face." Gerard turned back to Arthur. "I hate to interrupt, but I'd like you to meet some of my friends from Paris before the show opens."
"I would love to. Will you excuse us, Flynn?"
"Of course." As they left, he let out a breath and took a sip of champagne. He had stopped hiding from his father's shame a long time ago. In fact, he'd turned that bad experience into an advantage. But sometimes the memory still stung.
"I'm here," Savannah Kane proclaimed.