Page 112 of The Honest Affair

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Nina

“My dress was designed by Jane Lee,” I said for what had to be the twentieth time since I’d exited the limo that had dropped me and Eric outside the event.

We were some of the earliest arrivals, being lower-profile guests and attracting less fanfare than some of the true celebrities the museum and Vogue had courted for this year’s event. As instructed, I was using Jane’s Korean name, which she was trying out as a potential designer label. Eric hadn’t looked particularly happy when she had informed us of her decision, but I understood. There would be enough remarks about her fledgling career being propped up by the de Vries name without actually using it in her brand.

“What about your jewelry?” asked the reporter, a sassy young girl in a sleek white column gown and questionable accessories.

“Oh, it’s my own,” I said, touching the small medallion of St. Anna I was actually wearing on a gold chain, just over my breastbone. “A gift from a friend in Rome.”

“Ooh, Rome!” cooed the girl.

Other than the diamond studs in my ears and the pounded metal cuff on my wrist, Matthew’s necklace was the only other piece I was wearing amid a crowd of Harry Winston wreaths and Bvlgari crowns. I had chosen to let the luster of the dress speak for itself, styling it with a sleek updo that matched the draped effect of Jane’s toga-styled design. It was the crystal beading that really made it special, each piece sewn individually throughout the gorgeous fabric Jane ordered. I had requested the family’s stylist do very little in the way of makeup—just a few brushes of white-glittering highlights over my cheekbones and on my chest that gleamed in the right lights, like I was a statue in Greece.

As I spoke, I looked over the reporter’s shoulder toward the top of the steps. Matthew was supposed to be meeting me inside after gaining access via the security entrance on the side of the building like last year. As much as I had wanted to walk the red carpet hand in hand with him, we both admitted it would be better to wait for our official debut. After all, the papers still weren’t signed.

“Thank you,” I told her, and decided that I was done speaking to the rest. Jane and Eric were busy on the other side of the steps chatting away with a reporter from the Village Voice, so I took the opportunity to make my escape and find the man I really wanted to see tonight.

The museum was lit up, just as magical as ever for the gala. Cora had really outdone herself this year, having wrapped the museum’s massive neoclassical colonnades completely with glittering lights and flowers, and actually reconstructing a ceiling-high Trojan horse out of white hydrangeas that towered in the main lobby.

I followed the trickle of people into the exhibit, glancing left and right. Where could he be?

“Looking for something?”

I jumped as his deep voice wrapped around me, then turned to find Matthew standing next to an exhibit of gorgeous Roman paintings suspended over a water bath.

He looked positively regal in his new midnight blue tuxedo, which fit him even more perfectly than I’d imagined, managing to render his shoulders sleek and broad at the same time, tucking exquisitely at his trim waist, extending down through his long, muscular legs. In typical Matthew fashion, he had added a few twists of his own—a white silk pocket square in the front and antique sterling cuff links that looked to be engraved with his grandfather’s—and therefore Matthew’s—initials. He was breathtaking.

At the time I placed the order, right after we returned from Italy, I couldn’t really explain why I had felt such an urge to get it for him, particularly when we were forced to come to this event separately, covertly. But as he stood there, surrounded by the literal works of art, I knew exactly what it was. Matthew, just as much, or perhaps more than any of the rich museum benefactors, loved beauty. He took more pride in his appearance, in enjoying the good things in life where he could get them, than anyone else I knew. Yes, I had grown up with luxury my entire life, but I didn’t think I had truly started to appreciate what made certain things so fine, expensive or not, until I met Matthew.

And so I bought the tuxedo, because I could. Because I knew he would appreciate the craftsmanship, the perfection more than anyone. Because he genuinely deserved it more than most and I wanted him to have one thing of his own that he could call art. And because very soon, it might be the last chance I ever had to afford something like this for him, and I wanted him to feel like the work of art I knew him to be.

“Oh, Matthew, you look…” I genuinely couldn’t get the words out. “Matthew, you look incredible.”

He nodded his head, as if he were tipping an invisible fedora instead of his absurdly thick head of inky dark hair. “Thanks, doll. It was a little weird accepting it, but I have to admit, I don’t feel like as much of a stranger as I did last time.” He slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. “And you too, duchess. I mean, wow. You said Jane did a good job, but, Jesus and Mary, Nina. I can barely breathe looking at you.”

His eyes dropped to my lips, and I arched toward him as naturally as breathing.

“We shouldn’t, right?” he murmured.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re inside now. They collect everyone’s devices and so forth at the door.”

“Well, I mostly don’t want to mess up your makeup,” he said. “You really do look like a goddess tonight. Aphrodite herself. Or maybe Helen of Troy.”

“Then I suppose that makes you Paris,” I said coyly. “Fighting to steal another man’s wife, right?”

“The one killed in action? Nah. Tonight, I’m the guy that gets the girl. Happy endings for all.”

He touched his nose to mine, and then we both looked around at the guests filtering around us. Many were actors, musicians, and other people far more recognizable from the tabloids than I was. Their clothes were equally as fantastic. One well-known singer passed by in a completely sheer, skin-colored gown that put nearly every part of her anatomy on display. By her styling, it was clear that she was supposed to resemble a naked Greek statue. I couldn’t decide whether or not she was pulling it off.

“Well,” I said as she passed. “That’s one way to interpret the evening.”

Matthew hadn’t even taken a second look. “I don’t know, baby. She can do what she likes, but if she’s looking for attention, she sort of gave the game away, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d rather spend the evening wondering what a woman’s got on under her finery, you know?” He drifted a finger over my collarbone, tugging lightly on the silk twisted over my shoulder. “Makes it that much sweeter when I get to unwrap the package.”

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