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He couldn’t let her mother win.
And he couldn’t take the ring from Jezebelle.
* * *
She tiltedher head to the side as she contemplated the painting in front of her. Swirls of colors mixed together, splattered with lines and dots. A beautiful array of colors from pinks and purples to greens and blues.
“What do you see?” Bradley asked, eyeing the painting as well, yet not as intently as her.
He stood a little too close for her comfort. His shoulder brushing hers on numerous occasions. At breakfast, his chair had also bombarded her space.
When Brick was with she had never noticed anything off. Now that he wasn’t here, she sensed that underlying attraction Brick insisted Bradley had.
She had no idea how to deal with it.
“A very jumbled, chaotic life. Colors representing the many emotions inside, all running into each other, creating confusion.”
“Wow. That was deep,” he replied with a chuckle after a beat of silence.
Or she was projecting her inner feelings out loud because they were chaotic and confusing right now? Since the moment her mother arrived in the city, declared she would be working for her father—here, in the city. It had wiped out all her misgivings about leaving, offering her a solution. But it wasn’t a solution she wanted.
Yes, she wanted to stay in the city, but doing what she loved. Being on stage.
She turned her gaze to him. “What do you see?”
His eyes held hers, sparkling with things she didn’t want to see. “Beauty within that chaos.”
She glanced away. There was no way she would acknowledge what he was saying. He thought she was beautiful. He wanted her. Oh, why hadn’t she seen this before?
Well, because her focus had always been on her mother, trying to head off the controlling things she planned to do. It was like going to war constantly and rarely winning any battles.
Yet, again, her mother was winning.
Brick wasn’t here—by his choice, but that didn’t matter. She was with Bradley, alone, while her mother mingled amongst other patrons in the gallery, sending her sly, triumphant glances as if she had won the war.
Not by a long shot.
Her engagement with Brick might be a clever ruse to keep her mother at bay, but she intended—somehow—to make it real. She didn’t know how to approach that either. The awkward tension this morning couldn’t be ignored. But how to address it?
“Come. Let’s keep going.” Without asking, he grabbed her hand and interlocked their fingers.
It felt wrong and uncomfortable. Of course, they were old friends. It seemed rude to pull her hand out of his.
She kept her smile in place as they ventured to the next painting, but instead of releasing her hand, it remained in his grasp.
She had a difficult time processing what she was seeing, so focused on his hand with hers. The longer it went on, the more uncomfortable it felt.
Bradley must’ve sensed her growing uneasiness. “Something wrong?”
“No, of course not. I have to use the restroom, though. Will you excuse me for a moment?”
His charming smile should’ve reduced her worries, yet it only increased them. She didn’t see a friendly smile of a man she knew since childhood. Now she saw a man with desire, with determination to win her heart.
Hello, she was engaged. Bradley—and her mother—didn’t know it was fake. Did they honestly think she’d dump Brick for Bradley?
She almost burst out laughing. Yes, they did think that. At least, her mother did and probably assured Bradley all would work out in the end.
Her hand finally slid out from his. Before she lost complete control of her emotions—it was a toss-up of laughing hysterically or crying buckets—she turned and walked away toward the restroom.
