Page 31 of Below Deck Billionaire
‘They’re divorced?’
‘Yes.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I was fifteen.’
‘Tough age.’
She shrugged. In a lot of ways it had been a relief not to have to keep her father’s secrets any more; she just hadn’t thought her mother would lash out the way she had, accusing Tiffany of collusion. Hadn’t been prepared to be so brutally sidelined when the married man who’d slept with half the women in the district had not been.
‘You have brothers, right?’
Pleased to be veering away from the topic of her parents, Tiffany nodded. She’d told Rufus a bit about her brothers when he’d asked her about Balmain Downs, which Theo had been present for, and she’d occasionally mentioned them at the table the times they all ate together. ‘Four,’ she confirmed.
‘And you’re the youngest?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Gordy, Mack and Trapper are older by a few years. Mikey is a year younger.’
‘And they’re all still at home helping to run the ranch?’
Tiffany smiled at the Americanism. ‘Station,’ she corrected. ‘And no. Mikey left home.’
‘It wasn’t for him?’
The understatement choked a hollow laugh from the depths of her throat. ‘Living with a bunch of old-fashioned, He-Man cowboys in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere on a cattle station when you’re arty, gay and vegetarian isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive, but in Mikey’s case it was.’
‘Ah.’ He nodded. ‘Your family weren’t… understanding?’
‘The family were okay, they were more disturbed about the vegetarian thing to be honest. My dad had a harder time understanding why Mikey wanted to leave. He never understood why anyone would want to live anywhere but the outback.’
Once upon a time, Tiffany had thought that, too.
‘They argued about that most of all. He tried to persuade Mikey to stay, offered to build him a studio, but as my brother was fond of saying, sometimes at the top of his lungs, an artist needed to experience life, so in the end he left without my father’s blessing or support and predictions that he’d be back with his tail between his legs.’
‘And your mother?’
Beverly Wainwright had become Beverly Martin, moving on to a new life as a trophy wife to a man twenty years her senior. ‘She was… busy.’
Clearly taking her brevity as a hint, Theo changed the subject. Sort of. ‘What kind of artist is he?’
Tiffany’s mood brightened instantly. She could rave about Mikey’s art all night. ‘Landscape,’ she said. ‘But with a modern twist.’
And then because no matter who asked, Tiffany would always pull out her phone and scroll to examples of her brother’s art, she did the same for Theo, pulling up the gallery website of which she was a silent partner.
‘This is him.’ Leaving her laptop on the sun lounger, she crossed to where Theo was standing and handed over her phone. Their hands accidentally brushed and the familiar prickle of awareness that zapped from his fingertips to hers reminded her not to get too close.
The screen displayed her favourite piece, which hung permanently in the gallery and was not for sale. It was of Balmain Downs, although only very few looking at it would know its exact rural origins. Figures on horseback and cattle were blurred and indistinct, the haze of ochre-red dust being the predominate feature almost sparkling in rays of bright sunshine flooding the canvas.
Tiffany had been on many a muster before the wet season had doused the parched earth, where cattle hooves had kicked up so much dust she could taste it dry and gritty in her mouth and wedged so deeply between her teeth only flossing could remove it.
‘This is impressive,’ he said, glancing up from the screen.
Tiffany felt the usual swell of pride in her brother at the compliment and, maybe she was biased, but she agreed wholeheartedly. She was hardly a connoisseur but every cruise ship she’d worked on had its own art gallery that ran auctions, and most of those paintings were nowhere near as good as Mikey’s.
Of course, he could just be being polite, because what possible connection could a rich Greek playboy who’d grown up around the sea and boats have to such an arid landscape? But it seemed genuine. ‘He’s crazy good with light.’ Mikey would love the Med, and they’d often talked about him coming over when he got his first big sale. ‘If you keep scrolling, you’ll see what I mean.’
But he didn’t scroll on, he just returned his eyes to the screen. ‘Is this what it’s like? The Top End?’
‘Sometimes.’ Tiffany’s desire to look at the painting again warred with her need to keep him at a distance but ultimately, she couldn’t resist, stepping closer as she turned to plant her ass next to his.
Their arms brushed as she leaned in a little, and goosebumps coursed from her elbow to shoulder blade, but Tiffany’s eyes were busy caressing every detail to pay them much heed.
