Page 69 of Billion Dollar Dispute

A muscle in my jaw ticks. “I know. I just introduced her to Oliver. She did the rest. I haven’t intervened.”

Jeremy, Mom, and Evan come over.

“Where’s Grams?” I ask, worried she’s declined, and no one’s told me.

“It’s too late of a night for her,” Dad says.

“And she’d be on her feet all night,” Mom adds as she kisses my cheek hello.

I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s okay. I’ll see her for Sunday dinner anyway. We’re having chili.

“And probably too loud,” I add as the band suddenly gets louder.

“Too fucking loud,” Evan grumbles, moving away.

“Hey, grumpy. Grab me a drink while you’re there,” Jeremy adds smartly.

Evan glares at him. If looks could kill, Jeremy would be instantly dead.

Jeremy laughs, and I shake my head.

I stand to the side of the bar, sipping my drink, watching people dance to the DJ. The band just finished, and the mood shifts immediately as the dance music starts. Accent lights are sprinkled across the ceiling, which only adds to the ambiance. Her attention to detail is incredible.

My gaze meets Jemima’s dark eyes, perfectly set on a heart-shaped face. She’s watching the dancers from the edge, two outsiders looking in, wishing… I set my glass down on the bar and stride toward her, holding out my hand.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.

“Offering to dance with you,” I reply with a flirty grin and step closer.

“I can’t,” she says shakily, turning away. I follow her across the room to a corner, where a painting of a large pink peony against a dark purple background hangs. She stands facing it, admiring the piece.

“It would be nice to be anonymous.” She finally breaks the silence.

“Why?” I can’t imagine her hidden;shestands out in every room to me.

“An easier life,” she says quietly, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. I study her, noticing the subtle shift in her expression, the vulnerability she’s trying to mask.

“Nothing good in life comes easy.” My voice is firm as I meet her gaze.

“That’s what I’m holding on to,” she replies, her tone steady but with a hint of determination, her eyes not leaving mine.

"Take Oliver, for instance. He’s determined to find the artist of these paintings. It would be easier to give up and focus on artists who want to be found.”

“But there’s something so captivating about this.”

“Exactly, which is why he won’t give up, no matter the challenges or dead ends he runs into.”

I turn to face her, my hair flopping over my eyes. She gently pushes it back.

My hands twitch beside me as if they want to reach out to her, but I hold them back.

“You could’ve trimmed your hair.”

“I did.”

“So you like the piece that goes in your eye?”

I smirk, loving her sarcasm. “I love it even more when you touch it.”

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