Page 51 of Such a Good Girl

“He certainly knows how to work a room,” Violet said, following my gaze.

I laughed. “I’m glad you aren’t impressed with him, Violet. It keeps me grounded.”

“Please, Kaylee, you’re the most grounded person I know. I don’t even think West could uproot you.”

“I’m not sure about that. I hate to say it, but I’ve been feeling like I’m floating on clouds lately. It’s so gross,” I said, wrinkling my nose, and forcing myself to tear my eyes away from West.

“Love isn’t gross.”

“I am not falling in love with West Foster!” I insisted, a little too loudly, as we stood in line for a glass of wine.

“I hope not, babe. For your sake,” she said, rubbing my arm with sympathy. Or was it pity? I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“I’m hanging out with him for work.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’ll be out of there as soon as I can eliminate him and his partners.”

“Right,” she said, sounding completely unconvinced.

We made our way through the crowd to the photographs.

They were stunning black and white, high contrast, close up portraits of people in very sexy poses. The photos were very sensual, but not explicit at all. Instead of graphic body parts, it was an eye here, a calf there. A foot. A hip with a hand gripping it, fingers digging into flesh.

“These are so fucking sexy,” Violet said. She pointed at a photo of a woman’s tongue licking a person’s neck. “I’d buy that one, but it’s eight thousand dollars.”

I could barely breathe as I looked at them. They were striking and artful, but filled with intense emotion. I kept walking and saw another one of a woman’s ass, her perfectly manicured hand on one cheek, and a cat o’ nine tails pressed against the other. I squinted, something in the background catching my eye. I gasped when I realized it was the rug in the room that West had taken me into that night when he’d first showed me Profane.

My head spun. I looked at the name on the little placard beside the photo and saw the artist’s name for the first time — W. Foster.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

“Hi, Little Rose,” West voice sounded softly in my ear, sending shivers instantly down my spine.

I turned and looked at him wide eyes. “Hi!”

“What do you think?”

“These photos are breathtaking,” I said.

“I thought you’d like them.”

“West — are these yours?”

He shrugged. “My side hobby.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to know what you thought of them before you knew they were mine.”

“I love them. Especially this one.” I pointed shyly to the photo in front of me and he gave me a knowing look.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, his hand landing squarely on the small of my back as he leaned into my ear. “That one reminds me of you.”

“It’s in that same room,” I said. “I recognized the rug.”

“Good eye.” He laughed. “You should be an investigator!”

I laughed nervously, my stomach flipping.

Violet walked up then, and I instantly felt like an imposter. My roommate managed to look like she stepped off the cover of Vogue any time she went out in public, and tonight was no exception.

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