Page 98 of The Prize
“Did you see him?” Abby tapped my arm to get my attention.
“Who?”
She rolled her eyes. “Wilder?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you want to come see them?” She gestured toward the paintings.
I felt a pinch where the device pulled my chest. “Later.”
As Abby studied my reaction, I realized my mistake. “There are too many people around them.” And this wire was making me claustrophobic.
“There you are.” Adley stepped out from the crowd and he looked handsome in his black tuxedo. He squeezed me into a warm hug while balancing an amber drink in his left hand.
I felt a dreadful regret all over again for the distress I had caused him. “Adley,” I began. “I want to apologize for everything.”
He gave a nod. “Art is not without its complications.”
Abby threw him an incredulous glare.
“We’re in the presence of greatness,” Adley responded as he peered back toward the front of the ballroom at the paintings. “Have some fun, Abby.”
“That’s not why we’re here,” Abby insisted.
A waiter came by and I snapped up two flutes of champagne off his tray and offered one to Abby. It was a peace offering of sorts or if I was truly honest it was courage in a tall stemmed glass for me.
She raised her hand to refuse. “I’m not drinking.”
“Oh, come on,” chided Adley, taking it from me and giving it to her. “We get to enjoy tonight in the finest company of a modern-day Rembrandt.”
“I quite agree.” It was Tobias.
He oozed refinement in his tailored black tuxedo and his hair was styled with a sexy lushness. Though, as he locked eyes with mine, he exuded an intense displeasure.
“I came tonight.” I gave a shrug that statedobviously.
He replied with a tight smile.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Abby told him. “Thought we’d have a bit of R & R.”
“Good for you.” Tobias didn’t hold back. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be back in London.”
“What are your thoughts on this new talent you’ve discovered?” asked Adley.
“Actually, Brother Bay was featured inTimemagazine but the article didn’t attract much attention. I’m hoping this event changes that. All proceeds go toward the renovation of Bay’s monastery.”
“A wonderful cause,” I interjected.
“You do love your art, Mr. Wilder,” chided Abby.
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Art lets us see into the heart and therefore the truth.”
I raised my chin proudly. “And they really are beautiful.”
Wilder gave a warm smile. “And one must protect such profoundness at any cost.”
Abby seemed to pick up on the tension. “I’m going to check them out. Want to come, boss?”
