Page 62 of Contract of a Billionaire

Brave or stupid. It was still up for debate.

“I own the space,” Cassio answered.

“Oh.” Seriously? Of all the buildings in New York City, my exhibition ended up in the one belonging to Cassio King! The freaking mobster. “Sorry,” I mumbled my apology. “I didn’t mean that I’m not happy to see you.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

The woman on Cassio’s arm chuckled softly. “Yes, you did.” My cheeks burned. Possibly melted. “Don’t worry about it. It happens more often than you know.” My eyebrow cocked.Interesting.

“Nice exhibition.” The other woman complimented.

My eyes glanced around the walls. “Thank you.” Then realizing, I had no idea who she was, I extended my hand. “I’m Autumn.” Then did the same with the other woman.

“Autumn, this is my wife, Áine. And my friend, Luciano Vitale and his wife, Grace,” Cassio introduced us and we shook hands. I couldn’t quite decide who’s scarier. Cassio or Luciano. Not that it was a competition.

I returned my gaze to Grace and Áine. They were a safer alternative, and for the moment, we studied each other curiously. They both seemed so clean cut for someone as tatted up as their husbands. But then Alessio was hiding a lot of ink too. Heat rose on my face at the memories, but with it always came bitterness too. That latter part was what I hated.

“I heard your entire exhibit sold out,” Grace remarked, her violet eyes on me. “Congratulations. That is the fastest two million earned I have ever seen.”

My mouth parted with shock. I hadn’t thought through what a sold out exhibition meant for me. Two million.

“Did you buy it all?” I asked Cassio.

He shook his head. “No, Áine got one.”

“Which one?” I questioned absentmindedly. Awareness trickled down my neck. My eyes shifted to the left, then right, behind me. There were people all around us but everyone’s eyes were focused on the photographs. Not on us.

There was a single mirror on the far wall and even that reflection confirmed nobody paid attention to us.

I returned my attention to the four of them.

“The piece you calledWoman with broken eyes,” Áine answered.

That was one of my favorite pieces. And one of the more heart-wrenching ones. The emotions from the woman reflected so vividly in her eyes - torture, pain, horror but also the strength. She prevailed. The man who dared to shame her, rip her apart because she dared to love out of wedlock didn’t win that one.

My throat choked. “That’s one of my favorites,” I admitted in a raspy voice.

“I paid extra,” Áine admitted. “I had to out buy this prick who thought he should get all your photos.”

I had no idea who that prick was. If it was Alessio, I didn’t think Cassio would allow her to call him a prick.

“Thank you,” I said. I meant it too. “Every penny you paid for that photo will go back to the woman and the shelter she started.”

“What a coincidence,” Grace remarked. “Áine has a whole thing with rescuing women and placing them in shelters.”

It wasn’t something I expected to hear.

“Hmmm. Small world, huh?”

These two women seemed to have a purpose.

Some days I felt like I had a purpose. Other days, my purpose seemed to drift because it always came back to him. Without Alessio, I only drifted through life.

Microphone feedback rippled through the air and the three of us turned in its direction. Everybody’s steps paused and the crowd quieted.

What the hell was Branka doing up there?

She stood up on the stage, dressed up in a flowy pink dress, her hair gleaming red, golden and brown colors beneath the lights. Our eyes met and she grinned with that mischievous look I have come to know so well. Her eyes reminded me so much of her brother that it fucking hurt sometimes.