Page 6 of Sinful Blaze

“Oh, literally years.” Ewing chuckles and pulls his woman close. “I started off one direction, but could never get the lighting just right. Needed my beautiful muse here to make it perfect.”

I glance down at my side. The woman with the absinthe is all dark hair and golden skin with soft, luscious curves that mold so perfectly against me…

But those eyes. Bright and blue and practically glowing… that’s what keeps me here.

I almost laugh out loud as I eye his mistress, then Daphne. He left her? For… that?

It’s like burning the Mona Lisa and hanging a waterlogged Playboy on your wall instead.

“No accounting for taste, I suppose,” I muse out loud.

Ewing’s bride-to-be looks like I just slapped her in the face. Ewing himself looks like he wants to tackle me to the floor.

And with that, I whisk Daphne away from the disgusting duo and somewhere quieter. Someplace where we can actually breathe.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “Really, thank you. You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“A little of it was for me, too.” I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something stupid, like pull her to me and rip that dress to shreds. “I’m surprised you ever dated that fucking weasel.”

A blush colors her cheeks. “Yeah, well. Arranged relationships don’t bat a thousand, right?” She tries to brush it off with a casual laugh. “We try and tell ourselves there’s something there that just isn’t.”

“‘Arranged’?”

Daphne shrugs. “My parents wanted it to work. And honestly, I wanted him to love me just as much as I loved him. Despite all the red flags.”

Something inside me twists. It does not like hearing her mention loving someone else.

Ridiculous. I have zero stake in this soap opera. I’m just amusing myself.

Daphne smiles up at me. It’s the first and only genuine smile I’ve seen on her face all evening. “You know what, though? I’m glad. I’m glad he cheated on me and dumped me and threw me out of our apartment hours before his showing. I’m glad. Because now, I’m free. It just sucks to know how long he kept me in the dark.”

My teeth clench. I don’t even know this woman, and I want to march back over there to beat him into a bloody smear for her.

I don’t get my chance, however. The two idiot owners of this gallery have decided now is the best time to interrupt us.

“Daphne! Darling, come with us. Someone has a question about Conrad’s latest work.” They both eye me suspiciously, but not so much as to be disrespectful. They know I have money, and they know I came to bid a good chunk of it on a S.C. Ewing Original.

Daphne touches my arm. “Sorry. I’ll be back later, okay?”

I nod. I don’t know why; it’s not like she needs to know I’ll be here waiting for her.

And yet, as she leaves, I can’t stop myself from watching her walk away. Her head is high, her stride strong and unbothered, and anyone who doesn’t know her would never guess how she must be crumbling to pieces on the inside. She’s strong. Defiant, even.

I wonder how strong she’d be without anyone to perform for. Without her employers or her ex or anyone else watching her every move, waiting for her to slip up so they can belittle her some more.

What would she be like with me? Without anything between us?

Not expectations.

Not trauma.

Not a stitch of clothing.

I watch. I brood. Daphne turns to one side to answer a guest’s questions, giving me the perfect view of her figure.

Add “blindness” to the list of Ewing’s endless sins and failings. Who wouldn’t trip over themselves for the chance to consume her? To taste her and make that delicious body move and twist and writhe beneath them?

I’m not going to trip.

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