The corners of those perfectly-colored lips tip up as she looks me over. Thank God the freeze out of the last week has thawed. She was pissed—rip off my balls if I would let her near them pissed—since the whole lingerie/rejection incident. I don’t blame her, I really don’t, but we also never talked about it.
It’s been simmering beneath the surface and I’ve been waiting for things to erupt. I don’t know what’s been holding her back from confronting me about it, but I know why I haven’t mentioned it—fear.
I am utterly terrified she will leave me if I tell her the truth—if I even can. I don’t even know what I would say…how I would tell her…
“Well, you clean up nice.” She stops in front of me and looks down at me with a grin. I tilt my head back, taking her in as she towers over me in her heels.
I spent my entire life towering over people. At six foot three, most men didn’t come eye-to-eye with me. It sounds petty, and vain, but being bigger and stronger than everyone always gave me a sense of pride and confidence in everything I did. Literally looking down on everyone—everyday—can certainly give someone a superiority complex, but it wasn’t like that for me. It was just a sense of knowing my own power.
Until you lose it, you never realize what being on the same level with someone, what looking at them eye-to-eye, actually means. It’s something I still can’t get used to, which is why I spend most of my time behind my desk at the club and I let Gabe and my various restaurant and bar managers handle all the day-to-day operations.
Danika drops to her knees in front of me and pushes my knees apart so she can slide between them. Somehow, she knows exactly what I need in this moment. She reaches out and grabs the ends of my bowtie, tugging on them gently before sliding her hands up to cup my face.
“There,” she says before kissing me and pulling away with a grin, “now you are perfect.”
“Hmm, I don’t know about perfect.” I push her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
“Well,” she replies, getting to her feet without ever taking her eyes off me, “perfect for me, then.”
I catch her wrist as she turns to walk away. Glancing back over her shoulder, she raises her eyebrow in question. “You look amazing tonight. I’m not sure I want you going anywhere public in that dress.”
She grins and turns to bend down and kiss me again. “Don’t worry, you are the only one who will be able to see up it.”
Thank God! I would murder anyone else who even tried to get a peek.
I burst out laughing as she turns and disappears into the bathroom. She’s probably right. “I’ll meet you by the door,” I call as I slide into my chair and head to the living room.
The click of her heels tells me she’s right behind me and she appears at my side, her clutch tucked under her arm. “Ready?”
“Yep, let’s go.”
The ride to the gallery is short, less than ten minutes through the light drizzle falling over the city. Our driver for the evening is a guy I’ve used before. He’s always prompt and very professional, which I appreciate when Gabe isn’t accompanying me somewhere. Frankly, I’m glad he had plans with one of his bimbos tonight, because I don’t want to do anything but focus my attention on Danika and making sure she has a wonderful evening out.
I owe her that…after everything.
We pull up outside the gallery and I usher Danika inside in front of me, trying to prevent her from getting too wet as the drizzle increases to a steady rain. As soon as we enter, Rick and his sister, Margaret, greet us near the door.
“Savage! So glad you could make it!” Maggie bends down and gives me a hug before turning to Danika. “And you must be Danika. I’ve heard so much about you from Rick. Apparently Savage talks about you constantly at the gym.”
Shit.
“Oh, really?” She glances down at me. “And just what does he say?”
Rick looks momentarily stunned. Then, he smiles and winks at me. “Only good things, of course. It’s nice to finally meet you.” They hug briefly before someone grabs Maggie and drags her off into the gallery. She waves a quick wave goodbye to us. “Sorry, she’s being pulled in a hundred directions tonight, but I guess that’s good. I have to greet some more people. I’ll find you guys later.”
We say goodbye and I follow Danika over toward the right wall of the gallery, where a large canvas is hanging, bright spotlights framing it in a white glow. We stop in front of it and examine the painting. A waiter strolls past and offers us champagne, which we both grab, before returning our attention to Maggie’s work.
“Is it just me,” Danika asks, glancing down at me, “or is that a giant vagina?”
I almost choke on my champagne. Coughing to clear my windpipe, I take another sip and return my eyes to the painting. Now that she said that, I can’t see anything but pussy.
“Uh, yeah, vag all the way.”
The reds, pinks, and peaches on the canvas melt together in a vertical, oblong oval.