Page 57 of The Charmer

Why couldn’t he be more ruffled, more scruffy, less polite, less perfect? She felt gauche, unworldly, and flawed next to him, and she hated it. If his mere presence here hadn’t undermined her, his air of cool unflappability would have.

She stuck a hand on her hip and tossed him an ‘I don’t give a damn’ look. “What’s this something I need to see? A picture of you in all your smug glory because you’ve won?”

She paused and tapped her lip with a chewed fingernail, as if deep in thought. “Though that can’t be right. As high as the Gallery ceilings are, I doubt they could fit a portrait of your big head in there.”

To her chagrin, he didn’t react, apart from a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth. That very kissable mouth, the same mouth that had worked its magic on her and coerced her into believing a lot of garbage, mainly that she loved him.

She had to be nuts.

“This will only take a few minutes.” He held his hands out, palm up, like he had nothing to hide. “What have you got to lose?”

“Everything,” she muttered, casting longing glances at the departing tram she’d just disembarked and shuffling uncertainly from foot to foot, before shrugging and making a beeline for the Gallery, not caring if Cooper fell into step beside her or not.

She waited until they entered the cool interior and moved away from the door before confronting him.

“The director’s not coming, is he? This was another of your sick power plays to get me to jump to your tune.”

A statement, not a question, because she already knew he’d do anything to get what he wanted, and she wondered why she’d followed him in here.

Because you love him.

Because you still harbour some crazy hope this is all a bad dream and you’ll wake up to a perfect day.

Because you’re creative and are way too good at building ridiculous fantasies of happily ever after in your head.

“No, the director isn’t coming.” The jerk had the grace to look sheepish. “I’m sorry about that. It was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment to get you here.”

Anger made her fingers curl into fists. “What for? To rub my nose in it? To make sure I’d meet your stupid deadline?”

The silly thing was, he was rubbing her nose in it; rubbing her nose in the fact she loved him. Loved the way his blue eyes shone with intelligence, loved the way his mouth quirked when he struggled not to laugh, loved the way he filled out a suit, even if guys in fancy clothes didn’t usually do it for her.

Ariel grabbed for a curl and twisted it around her finger, hoping the sharp tug on her scalp might erase her thoughts. Instead, it made her focus on Cooper even more as he reached out to still her hand before thinking better of it and lowering his arm to his side.

The truth—that she loved him, loved everything about him—made her choke up. Getting over Cooper would be yet another burden while she tried to recover from the loss of the gallery.

“I asked you here to give you this.” He reached into the inside pocket of his silk-lined jacket and pulled out a folded document.

She cleared her throat. “Don’t tell me. You’ve made another amendment to your proposal and demanded my soul as well.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t speak, but something about the hurt in his eyes made her feel lower than an ant’s belly.

“Why don’t you take a look?”

Rolling her eyes like an adolescent taking a lousy report from a teacher, she snatched the offending document and opened it, prepared to skim the print before folding it and flinging it back in his face.

However, her nasty intentions evaporated the minute her eyes focussed on the new owner of the gallery.

“What the—” She blinked and made a frantic grab at the recently released curl, winding it around her finger over and over, seeing the print but not quite believing it.

“It’s yours,” he said, shrugging his broad shoulders as if he purchased galleries for exorbitant amounts of money and bestowed them on needy artists every day.

She shook her head and read the final few lines of the document again, before lifting her head and staring at him in open-mouthed shock. “This is some kind of joke, right?”

“Of course not. I know how much the gallery means to you. This way, you won’t have to worry about losing it ever again.”

He spoke so calmly, so rationally, as if presenting her with sale papers for the gallery bearing her name as owner was nothing out of the ordinary.

“I don’t get it.” Ariel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping the oxygen rush would clear her head. It didn’t. She propped against a nearby wall, needing support at her back before she crumpled in an undignified heap.

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