Page 61 of Her Every Fantasy

You can always get me to give you more, rosebud. Maybe that’s my problem.

My bright mood plummeted and my fingers shook as I read his words. Something was happening here. He was wearing his hurt openly. Was this his version of personal therapy to rid himself of me or was it something else?

The disturbing question planted itself firmly in my brain, growing deeper, insidious roots over the next twenty-four hours.

By the time my driver dropped me off at the address Bryce had texted me in Keong Saik, an upcoming area bursting with diverse culture, I was swimming in an ocean of uncertainty, with dangerous riptides licking at my toes.

The interior of the building was long and large, rectangular, painted a blinding white, with a skylight that would fill the gallery with light during the day.

I spotted Bryce almost immediately. Easily the tallest man there, he was further illuminated under one of the three chandeliers hanging from the double-storeyed ceiling.

A glass of champagne in hand, he was in deep conversation with a man I vaguely recognised. I took my eyes off him long enough to accept a glass from a passing waiter, my nerves prickling as eyes swivelled my way.

Although I was used to itby now, the initial insanity that came with fame had never truly faded, especially in a world where people weren’t ashamed to express their unsolicited views on your life. Despite my hardened skin, I tended to brace myself whenever I was in a gathering such as this.

I sipped my champagne, took a moment or two to ground myself just as Bryce’s head swung towards me. His smile was easy but a little reserved, as it’d been all week. It triggered a domino effect of joy and trepidation inside me. To prevent him reading my face, I turned towards the first painting.

Recognition dawned just as Bryce arrived beside me. ‘Is this place what I think it is?’

‘If you think it’s the venue hosting the private viewing for Wu Cheong’s next collection, you would be right.’

‘Oh, my God. How did you get an invite?’

He leaned down and kissed me before answering, ‘I have my ways. Would you like to meet him?’

My eyes goggled. ‘Yes!’

The man himself, dressed in a stylish burgundy Singaporean collarless tunic and matching trousers, appeared as ifby magic.

In his early thirties, he’d made a name for himself in the last five years and skyrocketed to international acclaim with a rabid following.

‘Miss Knight, welcome to my show.’ He bowed at the waist.

‘Mr Cheong, it’s such an honour to meet you. I’m a great admirer of your work.’

‘Thank you. I understand we’re going to be neighbours?’

I blinked. ‘We are?’

He glanced at Bryce before his dark eyes returned to me. ‘This place is growing too small for such events. My agent tells me turning down invitations ups my exclusivity but I’m not sure I believe him.’

‘I talked him into taking the space in the floor above yours at The Sylph for his new gallery,’ Bryce said.

‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea for me. How on earth will I get any work done with such masterpieces to gaze at all day.’

‘I think that statement can be applied to me too.’ His steady regard deepened with male appreciation.

My face heated up and I plastered on a wider smile to hide my slight chagrin.

Beside me, I saw Bryce lose his, his eyes narrowing on my face.

‘We’ll let you mingle, Wu,’ he rasped with a light clasp of the man’s shoulder. ‘Let’s catch up later.’

With another bow, the painter melted into the crowd. I glanced up at Bryce. His expression hadn’t changed but his regard was a little fiercer, more contemplative than before. I wasn’t exactly sure why a shiver lit down my spine.

‘Your present arrived,’ I said, more to dilute the tension than anything else.

His lids grew a touch heavy, a sign I was beginning to learn meant he was turned on. ‘Did you bring it with you?’

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