Page 11 of The Wrong Bond (Wolf Billionaire #4)

CHAPTER 11

SHAWN

“ I ’m glad you could make it.” I leaned down and kissed Arlene on the cheek.

She looked gorgeous, like she always did, and it was making it hard for me to focus on the abstract paintings that lined the walls of the gallery.

“I’m surprised you invited me here,” Arlene said, her eyes on me.

The way she looked at me made me suck in a breath, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Why?” I asked with a little chuckle.

“Because this is not my scene. I mean, look around. I look so out of place.”

I took in her black hair, which was pulled into a high bun at the top of her head, and the loose tendrils of hair that framed her face. Her makeup was light and minimal, and the dress she wore…fuck, the dress she wore!

It took all of my self-control not to tear it off her right in the middle of the gallery.

“You look gorgeous,” I said, meaning every word.

“There are photographers everywhere,” Arlene whispered, her eyes drifting from me to the photographers behind us.

“I don’t care.”

And I really didn’t care. It was stupidly annoying how much I didn’t care what anyone had to say about Arlene. She was my plus one and they all could keep wagging their tongues, I couldn’t care less.

On a regular day, with any of my previous mistresses, I would have cared a lot. But not with her. I wanted to be seen with Arlene as much as possible, and I didn’t care about the clicking of the cameras, the questions, and the picture on the first page of the newspapers.

I didn’t care about any of it, except the time I was spending with Arlene. That was all I cared about.

“Come, let’s make the rounds. We can’t stand here all night without seeing the actual art,” I said to her as she looped her hand through my arm and I led her around the room.

We stopped in front of an abstract painting that looked like a bloody scene from a badly made horror movie. It had dark splashes of red that looked like blood, random black splotches, and so many different shades of bright blue.

I tilted my head to the side and squinted. “What am I looking at?”

Arlene chuckled. “It feels uneasy. Like a bad dream you can’t quite shake.”

I smiled. “That’s exactly how I would describe it. It’s so weird.”

We moved to another abstract painting that looked worse than the last.

“Do they keep getting worse?” she asked, her face scrunched up as she looked at the canvas.

“I’m afraid so,” I responded, and we moved to the next.

“So, do you come to these events often?” she asked.

“Not really. But when there’s an auction happening, I try to show up as much as I can to support the cause.”

She turned to me with a smile. “And what’s this auction for?”

“Saving dolphins, I guess.”

She chuckled. “Maybe there should be one about saving downtown. I don’t know, just an idea.”

I smiled at her. “It’s definitely in the works.”

She paused and looked at me. “Well, if it is, then I don’t mind attending a million of these horrible events and staring at gory paintings all night with you.”

My heartbeat quickened and a rush of emotions I couldn’t quite place rushed through me. I reached out to cup Arlene’s face, pushing back strands of stubborn hair that had escaped the bun.

I wanted to kiss her so badly it completely consumed me, but I knew I couldn’t, and I hated it.

Suddenly, a voice from behind us shattered the perfect moment. “Shawn! There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I turned around to meet the gazes of my parents, Alexander and Matilda Elton. My father’s face held its usual disapproval, and my mother was trying all she could to be civil.

I cursed myself for not anticipating this. I rarely brought women to these events, because I loved keeping my private life private, but for some reason, I felt the urge to show Arlene off.

“Father, Mother, this is Arlene,” I said.

They looked her over in disdain, which annoyed me.

“Nice to meet you, Arlene. I’m Matilda Elton,” my mom said, shaking Arlene’s hand.

“And I’m Alexander.” Dad barely had the decency to glance at her when he spoke, which was exactly what I’d expected from him.

The conversation that followed was stilted, filled with awkward pauses and forced pleasantries. I glanced at Arlene, looking for any signs of judgment at my parents’ attitude, but all I saw was understanding, which warmed my heart.

“Well,” my mother said, her voice laced with a subtle dig, “it’s lovely to meet you, Arlene. Shawn, dear, perhaps you could introduce your…companion to some of our associates.”

I gritted my teeth. Companion. It felt so wrong to call her that, and when I opened my mouth to correct her, Arlene cut me off.

“Actually,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, “I think I’ve seen all the art I care to for one evening. Thank you for inviting me, Shawn.”

Before I could respond, Arlene turned around and walked away, leaving me standing there with my parents.