Page 30 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

‘Anyway. It cured me of wanting to be anyone’s fantasy image ever again.’ She crossed her arms in front of her and cupped her elbows.

He tilted his head, digesting her words. ‘So how are you going to manage your public image and keep the crazies away this time around?’

‘I’m kind of hoping that being engaged to Australia’s most dangerous ex-con billionaire is going to do the trick. And I know it’s wrong of me to put you in the position of having to protect me again but...’ She looked away. ‘You’re the best there is.’

That right there was the reason there could never be anything between them. Her expectations were totally at odds with the screwed-up, shut-down mess of a man he was beneath all that protective saviour gloss she kept painting on him.

‘Would you like a drink?’ she asked next and gestured towards the mini bar. ‘Something to help settle my nerves. Not champagne, that’d go straight to my head.’

‘There’s beer.’

‘Perfect.’

‘Okay.’

He fetched one for each of them and put music on. He watched her take the tiniest sip, not nearly enough to settle her nerves so he held out his hand and said, ‘Dance with me,’ because holding her in his arms and not putting any moves on her was clearly his torture method of choice and he figured it would keep her mind off the exhibition for a while.

His dancing hadn’t improved since the ball and neither had hers, but they made do, in the shadow of one of the most famous bridges in the world and with a light show spinning across the Opera House sails.

‘People are going to love your art,’ he told her. ‘You’re going to charm them with your arty-looking self and talent until they beg for more.’

A dimple dotted her cheek when she smiled. ‘I’ll hold that thought close.’

‘No problem. Seriously. Your photos are amazing. You’ve got this.’

They made it to the gallery with ten minutes to spare. The owner, Sara, greeted them with a relieved smile, plied them with alcohol and introduced them to the rest of the gallery staff. The gallery floor was grey concrete and the walls a severe kind of white that only gallery spaces could pull off. It pushed people’s attention towards the art, he supposed, as, drink in hand, he turned his attention towards the photographs on the walls.

He recognised some of them because they were ones Bridie had sent him over the years, only the ones she’d sent him had been schoolbook size. These ones were larger, some of them much larger. The two panoramas on display, one below the other, ran the length of the wall.

Sara drew Bridie away, talking business Judah didn’t need to know, so he planted himself in front of a red river gum tree he knew of old and studied the people who came through the door. Bridie would find him when she wanted to, and meanwhile the room began to fill. A wealthy couple to start with, a tourist, a student with a date he wanted to impress and maybe they were only there for the free food and drinks, but not all of them had free food in mind.

When one of the gallery staff discreetly enquired whether he was interested in purchasing the red river gum, because another guest was interested in buying it, he said no, and moved to plant himself in front of the next picture.

Bridie played the shy emerging artist to perfection as gallery owner, Sara, introduced her to various guests. Judah left them to it, watching from a distance and trying not to look too menacing. He’d just turned to study the pair of panoramas again when someone backed into him.

He turned. She turned, and flushed beet red to match her hair. Not a threat—though he checked his pockets to make sure that his wallet was still there. It was.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she began. ‘I need a rear-vision mirror—oh!’ Her eyes widened as her gaze reached his face. ‘It’s you.’

‘Do I know you?’ He didn’t recognise her.

‘No?’ Now was the time for her to introduce herself, but she didn’t. ‘I mean, no, you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but you’re the one in the picture.’ She gestured towards a wide doorway leading towards another part of the gallery. ‘In there.’

Judah raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah.’

‘It’s very compelling.’

‘Is it, now?’ If he could get away without looking at it this evening, he would. Put simply, he didn’t want to have to look at his mug in a photo and pretend he thought of it as art.

‘My friends were joking that you couldn’t possibly be real, but here you are.’

‘Here I am.’ Save me. Save me now.

‘Such a shame it’s already sold.’

To him, yes. It had better be. He looked for more red dots below the paintings in the room. Three sales out of nine paintings in the first half-hour. Clearly it was time to add more purchasing weight to the show. ‘If you’ll excuse me.’

He caught the eye of a gallery assistant who was at his side in an instant.

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