Page 39 of From West, With Regret (NYC Billionaires #2)
TWENTY-FIVE
WEST
I don’t think I’ve ever seen London this happy. At least not since we were kids.
We’re surrounded by Emily Rapture’s art, but all I can look at is London and the permanent smile she’s carrying with her around the gallery.
My girl.
She’s always been mine.
The bottom of her black sundress flares away from her body at the hip, swaying to the rhythm of her steps.
I stay a few feet behind her, watching and admiring as she follows Emily throughout her gallery, who is explaining the inspiration behind each piece and the medium used.
I don’t understand either of them half the time, but I see the beauty in Emily’s work.
Although, I must admit, I love London’s more. What can I say? I’m biased.
The scent of fresh paint lingers in the air, and undisturbed furniture is placed throughout the room.
It’s interesting how Emily has used nature throughout even those pieces.
Stools and tables look like sawed off trees.
The walls and ceilings are draped in artificial leaves and vines.
It looks like we’ve stepped into the forest.
When I point out the sawed-off tree stumps, Emily explains how she wanted to showcase the beauty of nature and how man easily destroys it with no regard.
London nods in agreement, and I fall in love with her even more. If I thought that was possible.
Her gold rings glint in the subtle lighting of the gallery as she tucks her pin-straight, black hair behind her ear.
Her lips are painted a deep purple-red, and fuck me, I want to kiss her, absorbing the happiness she’s feeling in this moment.
I can see her dream of meeting Emily Rapture glowing in her eyes now she’s realized it’s her reality.
London is so fucking happy. Just like I’d seen her that day at Coney Island. Only this time, she’s with me.
It’s hard to explain, but being out here, surrounded by nature, stirs our souls. I can see it in London’s entire body. The way she carries herself. Like the air is lighter and she can breathe easier.
I was nervous, considering we’re in Upstate New York, but Emily’s new gallery isn’t as close as I thought it was to where London and I grew up.
Taking the weekend off, I’d decided to drive us up here ourselves, away from the stress of my bars and the city. Away from the knowledge that London has almost completed her twentieth piece, and I’ve already hired an event coordinator to plan the grand reopening of The Veiled Door.
After seeing the last piece of Emily’s work, the three of us saunter back to the entrance of the gallery.
“I don’t even know what to say, Emily,” London gushes. “This gallery is next level.”
The attendant standing at the front door hands us our coats. Aside from the three of us, there are only two others here. One man following about ten feet behind Emily, who I’m assuming is a member of her security team. And the attendant, who must work for the gallery in some capacity.
I hold London’s black coat out for her, and she slips her arms into it, still talking to Emily.
“Thank you. I wanted this gallery to be an immersive experience.” Emily grins, placing her hand over her chest. “I hope the both of you will return when we’re officially open.”
“Of course.” London beams, turning to me and slipping her hand in mine. “We would love to.”
“Absolutely,” I agree, looking between London and Emily.
“Since you’ve been so gracious with letting us preview your gallery, I’d love to extend the invite to the reopening of my bar, The Veiled Door.
” I gesture toward London. “We’ll be unveiling London’s pieces that she’s curated for it and auctioning off a few others. ”
Emily’s jaw drops. “I would love to.”
“Really?” London gapes in disbelief.
“Of course.” Emily laughs. “From the work I’ve seen of yours, I would love to see them in person. Just email over the details, and you can count me in.”
London blushes. “I can’t believe you’re coming.”
Emily reaches out and gives London’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad your friend Holt got in touch. It’s always nice to meet a fellow artist that shares the same passion for their work as you do. Makes us feel less alone.”
“Agreed.” London nods. “Thank you.”
With that, London and I say our goodbyes and leave Emily’s gallery. I keep my hand wrapped around London’s the entire walk back to the car parked in the lot down the street.
It’s midafternoon, and unfortunately overcast. Heavy fog hangs low, hovering just above the dead leaves coating the ground. The trees of Albany are nearly bare, the promise of the coming winter evident with every day that passes, and the temperature drops.
But that doesn’t detract from London’s mood.
Even in the misty air, she hasn’t stopped smiling.
“I know I’ve said this a million times,” London says, squeezing my hand, “but I can’t believe we’re here and that just happened.”
“This might be a foolish question,” I start, unable to contain myself. “But I need to ask. Was it worth the drive up here?”
London screeches to a halt. Her heel scrapes against the pavement as she spins to face me. Emily’s gallery is located on the outskirts of Albany, set in a small town wedged between the city and the more rural parts of New York. Although we’re outside of the city, we’re pretty isolated out here.
She tips her chin up. Although she’s wearing heels, she’s still a head shorter than me.
“Are you fucking kidding me, West?” Her eyes spread wide, full of happiness and awe. “This was incredible.”
I laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear before leaning down to kiss her. “I knew the answer, I just wanted to hear you say it again.”
She playfully slaps my chest, ghosting my mouth with hers. “Why?”
“Because I will never tire of hearing how happy you are.” I say, lowly. “Especially when I’m the cause.”
“Oh, I think you’re mistaken,” she teases. “Meeting Emily made me happy. Not you.”
I jerk back, pretending to be offended. “Are you saying I don’t make you happy?”
“You don’t.” Her gray eyes narrow, coyly.
“You make me so much more than that.” She wraps her hand around my necklace, cradling it in her palm, protecting it as if, deep down, she knows its significance.
From the first time she saw it, she hasn’t indicated that she remembers it, but sometimes I think she does, subconsciously.
She’s drawn to it without even knowing why, anchoring herself to the small piece of metal.
I hold my breath, never taking my eyes off London when I pull off the necklace. I slip it over her head, and my eyes drop to the charm resting against her chest. She fingers the tiny metal, then lifts her gaze to mine.
“Same here, Dimples,” I confess. I smirk when tears well in her eyes. Maybe I’m a fool for thinking her wearing it might trigger a memory. No, scratch that. I am a fool.
She doesn’t let go of the charm even when I pull her toward me, claiming her mouth with my own.
My hands smooth down her backside and I palm each of her ass cheeks, tugging her upward, showing her exactly how she’s making me feel.
She moans against my mouth as my partially hardened dick presses against her thigh.
I’m slipping my tongue between London’s full, gorgeous, painted lips when her phone rings in her pocket.
The moment quickly fades. I reluctantly pull away, and she tugs it from her coat.
She barely looks at it before shoving it back into her pocket, but I already read the screen.
“They’re still calling you?”
“Yeah. They haven’t been that bad this week. In fact, this is the first call I’ve gotten all day.”
“Huh.” I look around, a sudden chill slinking down the back of my neck. My stomach sinks, and I can’t figure out why this unsettling sensation washes over me.
We’re alone here. Right?
I look down at London, who is looking up at me, wide-eyed. The joy from our day is quickly sucked out of her.
“Come on,” I say, sniffing. “Let’s go home.” I drape my arm around her, pulling her into my side as we head back to the car.
Once inside, she buckles herself into the passenger seat, and I start the engine. It roars to life, and my headlights don’t reach nearly as far as they did on the drive over here. I can only see about ten feet in front of the car.
“Well, shit.” I sigh, rubbing my fingers over my stubble. “This drive will be fun.”
London leans forward, narrowing her eyes as she looks through the windshield. “Hopefully, it’ll clear up the closer we get to the city.”
I agree and shift my car into drive before pulling out onto the road.
I opted to take a different car than the one Alden usually drives for me, this one small, with black interior.
I fell in love with this car as soon as I saw it.
The seats are a rich, black leather, trimmed with bright red stitching.
It’s sportier than any car I’ve owned, but when I glance over to London and place my hand on her knee, I know it’s perfect. This car suits her.
I’m following the directions from the GPS, noting this time, it’s taking us on a different path. The trip is about twenty minutes longer, but I don’t mind. Not when I’m with London.
“I know it sounds crazy,” she says, resting her arm against the car door, gazing at the endless trees we pass by as we pull out of the town onto the back roads.
She pinches her thumb nail between her teeth and glances over at me.
“But I kind of like it here. I can’t explain it, but I feel like I’ve already been here before. Or somewhere like it.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter, rubbing my hand over the sharp leather.
I was worried taking London this close to the foster home we grew up in would trigger something for her. Then again, she has triggers all over the place, and none of them have caused her to regain her memory.
Besides, I don’t even think we’re close to that house, anyway.
“You like it?” I ask, checking the rearview mirror.