Page 82 of Reveal Me
‘Good, because when you move in with me, it’s going to be a regular occurrence.’
‘Promises, promises.’ My stomach flips. I gesture around the gallery. ‘Kudos. Credit where it’s due, Mr Beckett. Not exactly a typical first date venue.’
‘You’re not exactly a typical woman.’ His gaze holds mine steadily.
I agree, reaching for the wine. ‘I’ve always found typical to be rather overrated.’
‘And how do you feel about getting bent over the table and fucked into next week?’ His black eyes blaze with a hunger that no food can satiate.
‘It’s decidedly underrated.’
‘That’s settled then.’ He winks.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
LAYLA
Sean doesn’t hang around. A mere twelve hours after I agreed to showcase my art for Jaxon, he arrives at the Ardmore, with my beautiful, burly boyfriend. I’m sitting at the breakfast table pouring over the morning papers when Kat enters to inform me of their arrival. ‘If Mr Beckett keeps turning up like this, it will get back to the Queen.’ Worry washes over her features.
‘She’s going to find out sooner rather than later.’ I shrug, speaking with more bravery than I feel. Stepping down is the right thing for me. But I’m under no illusion—it’s not going to be easy.
‘Oh, Princess.’ Kat rounds the table to stand beside me, touching my shoulder and squeezing. ‘Are you absolutely certain about this??’
‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.’ I close the paper and stand. Sean said he’d bring Jaxon, but he didn’t mention it would be first thing, which is why I’m dressed in my riding gear. ‘Show them in, please. I’ll receive them in the drawing room.’
The two men rise as I enter. Sean looks devastatinglyhandsome in a black impeccably cut suit and white shirt. His eyes sparkle when they meet mine. ‘Princess.’ He crosses the room with four long strides and presses a chaste kiss to my cheek. ‘Thought you’d have had enough riding this morning,’ he whispers with a snigger before turning to introduce his friend.
‘This is Jaxon Clayton. Jaxon, may I introduce Princess Layla Sinclair.’
‘Your Highness, it’s an honour.’ Jaxon steps forward and offers his hand. In navy chinos and a suit jacket, he’s far more casually dressed than my boyfriend—but he still radiates a certain air of authority.
‘The pleasure is mine.’
‘Sean told me you’d come across some paintings in the studio here. He seems very taken with them. I’d love to take a look.’
I bite my lip. Vulnerability rises in my chest again. Silence stretches between us as I try to regulate my erratic heartbeat. There’s so much riding on this. Sean might be comfortable with me being pregnant and waiting for him to come home, but I need my independence. If Jaxon likes my work, this could be the perfection solution.
‘Layla?’ Sean’s tone is filled with concern. He dips his head towards me. ‘Are you feeling okay?’
I can’t answer him. I can only nod as every one of my mother’s clipped remarks about my artwork attacks my ears.
‘Would you like to sit down? I can escort Jaxon to see the paintings, if you prefer?’
I swallow down my nerves and suck in a deep breath. ‘No. It’s fine. Sorry. I was just a bit light-headed there. This way.’ I pivot on my heel and stalk out of the room. The quicker we get this over with, the better. At least then I’ll know where I stand.
The sound of Sean and Jaxon’s footsteps bouncing off thetiles assures me they’re right on my tail. The short walk to my studio feels like walking the green mile. I feel physically sick. Jaxon must think I’m a complete weirdo.
My hand hovers on the door handle for a beat. I glance up at Sean. He offers one encouraging nod and mouths, ‘You’ve got this.’
Whether I do or I don’t—I have him. And that means more than anything.
I take one more deep breath and fling the door open. Brilliant morning sunlight floods in through the huge floor to ceiling windows, illuminating the canvases, which I arranged in a perfect semicircle at the far end of the studio.
There are twelve finished pieces in total, each one a piece of my soul laid bare. They pulse with the dark sensuality that’s consumed me these past months—vibrant crimsons bleeding into deep purples and charcoal blacks. Abstract impressions of everything I’ve experienced at Reveal, translated into paint and passion.
Sean’s eyes find mine immediately, that familiar intensity making my pulse quicken further. Jaxon moves first, drawn like a magnet toward the largest canvas—the one that dominates the centre of the display. The piece Sean had mentioned wanting to buy. He stops directly in front of it, clasping his hands behind his back as he studies it without uttering a word. Seconds feel like hours as he says absolutely nothing. The silence stretches. One minute. Two. The only sound is the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway.
I turn to Sean. He fires me a reassuring wink. I wish I had his confidence. He drifts towards me, and I slip my clammy hand in his.
