Page 26 of Midnight Revelations

What the fuck was going on now?

“Could you get me another drink?” I asked Poppy.

She looked at the full glass, her brow wrinkling in confusion. I handed her the glass.

“I think I need something stronger,” I explained.

She beamed up at me before striding away in a whirl of attention and second looks. Aaron’s eyes were glued to her ass as she sashayed across the room.

I quickly typed on my phone, sending a brief coded message to Jordan since Xavier was sitting in that big penthouse nest trying to hatch a baby into the world.

Me:Aaron needs a lift home from the gallery tonight.

“Has this anything to do with Dad’s favourite goon being here?” I asked.

“He isn’t happy with me right now. He visited me earlier tonight.”

A visit from our father was never a good thing. “Well, I’m sure he wishes he could have been here tonight.” I was watching Marlow in the window, and if I could see him, then he could see what I was saying.

My phone pinged.

Jordan:No worries. See you soon.

I might not be able to save Michael, but I could certainly step in and ensure Aaron was safe. Just to fuck with his head, I deliberately turned and smiled at Marlow as Poppy made her way back to us.

“I brought you a drink as well,” She handed us a glass each. Poppy had been the epitope of my ideal woman for years, bubbly with bright blonde hair, and breasts that I could fuck. Now I felt nothing when I looked at her.

“Thanks, babe.” I smiled since we were being watched, and my hand landed at the base of her spine. By tomorrow our faces would be on social media and in some of the leading gossip tabloids.

“How much?” I asked, nodding to the painting in front of us. What ever happened to scenes of the countryside or something that was recognisable instead of a mismatch of colours splashed on a canvas?

“Fifty thousand. It’s the artist’s interpretation of his emotions when he was in love,” Aaron said as if he was the leading knowledge in this field.

I looked at the painting. If it was an emotion, it reminded me of hatred and rage. The dark undertones reminded me of blood and death. The flashes of deep blue looked like he’d spilt the paint on the side of the canvas. There was a reason I was the accountant and Aaron was the gallery owner.

“I think I’ll pass on this one,” I commented. “Maybe something a little less angry.”

Aaron laughed, and directed us toward another painting that was various splodges of green. “This is his homage to nature.”

“It looks like Kermit the Frog had too hot a curry the night before,” I muttered and received a disapproving glare from Aaron.

“I’ll take something in purple for Mum’s new townhouse. She has a purple room that she was saying she needed some artwork for.”

He rolled his eyes at me and pointed to something on the other side of the room. I’d given up trying to interpret them.

“That’ll do. Bill me and I’ll get Marnie to sort it out.” My secretary knew all my families’ birthdays and sent me reminders when I was supposed to buy a present. She was the stern person behind my diary and guarded my time like a dragon hellbent on preserving every hour as if it was a precious jewel for her to hoard. There was no way anyone got onto my schedule without running her rigorous gauntlet.

“I always love when you come to my events.” Aaron grinned and sipped his drink.

“Yeah,” I grumbled in reply. “I bet. I probably just bought the most expensive piece here.”

“You can afford it and my artist is starving.” His artist had a sizeable waistline that argued with Aaron’s statement.

“I like the love painting.” Poppy pouted up at me and fluttered her eyelashes. She was a professional who funded her lifestyle with the aid of sugar daddies who gave her what she wanted.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Have the painting gift wrapped and sent to my apartment.”

Marlow was hovering close to us and I caught him off-guard when I spun around and met his gaze.

---