Page 34 of Out of Control

“Maybe I am.” I’m not. I take another step back and adjust the bag under my arm. “Maybe I’m not.” And another. “But I’ll wait. And I’ll bide my time. And I’ll remind you every chance I get at how goddamn good the sex was.” I drag my eyes up and down the length of her and hope I’m making the right decision here. “Good night, Sofia.”

Then I turn and walk away.

I head back to my empty hotel room.

I fall back on the bed.

“But I’ll wait. And I’ll bide my time. And I’ll remind you every chance I get at how goddamn good the sex was.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

I don’t chase. Ever.

And yet . . . it seems I’m chasing Sofia Navarro.

Because she’s worth it, Ollie.

She could be the one for you.

I repeat. What. The. Actual. Fuck.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sofia

“I was so surprised when you called me last night and asked me to meet you here today,” Marla says as she moves around in the space behind me. Her heels click on the stone floors as I stare out the windows to the turquoise water of the Mediterranean and try to quiet the adrenaline coursing through me.

You really did just do this, Sof. The keys in your hand are real.

I squeeze my hands around the cold, hard metal of them. Yep. Definitely real.

Holy. Shit.

“Me too. It was a—” A knee-jerk reaction? A way to avoid being at the race and caving to every person with an opinion about who I am or what I should be doing? What I should have done a long time ago? My first step in rebellion? “I’ve been vacillating on doing this for weeks and it was time to finally act on it.”

I laugh nervously and turn to face the real estate agent. Her smile is wide, her hair’s perfect, and her power suit is immaculately tailored. “It was. I told you that this spot was going to go fast once I listed it. Plus the fact that it’s already set up for what you need is kismet. Great lighting. Open floor plan. Great display space. In the heart of town so you attract attention from tourists and collectors alike. And this view.” She shakes her head and opens her arms up to it as she takes it in. “It’s simply stunning.”

“It is. I fell in love with it instantly.” It doesn’t hurt that money isn’t an issue for me either since this storefront comes with such a hefty price tag.

“Well, congratulations. Selfishly, I think it was the perfect choice.” She laughs and adjusts the bottle of champagne in the bucket of ice she brought. You know you’re in Monaco when the real estate agents carry around buckets with ice and champagne to possible showings. “I can’t wait to see what you do here. You have an excellent eye, Sofia. I saw that last year during the artmonte-carlo,” she says of the annual art show here in Monaco. “Every painting you pointed out to me was sold by the end of it.”

“Thank you. Clearly art is subjective, but I know what I like when I see it.”

“And clearly others like it too. Do you plan on having the gallery open for this year’s event?”

I lift my eyebrows. “That’s a tall order to fill, but . . . I’d like to try and make it happen if it’s possible.” I start calculating what that would mean time wise and hate that it’s not much time at all. Leave it to me to jump feet first off a cliff and overcommit simultaneously. And yet, I want to make it work. Have to. “At the end of the day, it mostly depends on how many artists I can approach about showcasing their art here.”

“I’m sure they’d all jump at the chance to have a Navarro champion their work.” The Navarro name. The name that opens doors and greases palms.

“One can hope.” But that’s a lie, isn’t it? I want my name, Sofia, to be the draw. My name, my attention to detail, and my knowledge on what to curate to encourage potential artists over my family’s name.

Something of my own.

“Do you have a name for the gallery yet?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’ll come to me at some point.”

“I’m sure it will.”