Page 137 of Beautiful Exile

50

LINCOLN

I couldn’t stop watchingher as she moved across the space. The need was a mix of worry and captivation. Because Arden herself was a work of art. She always was, but tonight, it was as if she’d discovered a new palette to paint with.

Holt Hartley’s company had provided the security for the evening. We had guards patrolling the entire block around The Collective, two positioned at every entrance, two checking IDs and running fingerprints at the check-in, and a handful more inside the party itself. Arden was safe.

I’d been telling myself the same thing over and over, yet my body wasn’t getting the message. My fingers held tight to my rocks glass, the bourbon inside remaining untouched.

I swept the crowd again. Lolli stood talking to Walter, the older man who worked at Sutton’s bakery. He had stars in his eyes, and I swore Lolli wore a hint of a blush.

Fallon talked with a man a few years older than her whom I didn’t recognize as Kye glared in the man’s direction, a clear threatin his gaze. Nora studied one of Hannah’s paintings, pointing something out to Rhodes and Anson.

The reporter who’d given Arden a hard time was scribbling notes, glancing in her direction every so often as if salivating for a sound bite. Shep and Cope stood at the snack table, helping Keely and Luca plate tiny sliders as Trace scanned the area, just as on alert as I was.

A dapper-looking Isaiah charmed Thea and Sutton. Had they not both been taken, I had no doubt they would’ve caved as he explained the motivation behind his most recent sculpture.

Hannah wove behind the table housing the phone bank for the auction, making sure everyone was set up. And Farah snapped something at a caterer whose eyes went wide. I was fairly certain Arden had found her new gallery manager in that one.

A figure slid through the crowd. Even his movements were snakelike. Quentin Arison wore a three-piece black suit with a blood-red tie, his eyes fixed on only one person.

My grip on my glass tightened as I watched him slither up to Arden, not caring at all that she was mid-conversation with someone. Her smile was tight as she greeted him and made polite introductions to the person she was already talking to. But nothing about her demeanor saidwelcome.

“Are you going to do something about that?” a little voice asked.

I nearly jumped, not noticing my tiny friend approach. Glancing down, I took in Benny. I couldn’t deny that he looked adorable. He wore a blue suit with a bow tie that had little paintbrushes on it.

“Well?” he pressed.

I grinned at him. “I think Arden’s pretty good at protecting herself.”

Benny scowled at that. “You don’t fix it, I’m going to.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess a little rescuing never hurt anybody. What if we tag team?”

A grin stretched across Benny’s face, and he held up his fist. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

I bumped my knuckles against his, and we started toward Arden’shuddle. As we approached, she widened her eyes in a comicalSAVE MEmessage. As I got within earshot, I knew why.

“My collection really is one of a kind. It’s valued at over fifty million.” Quentin’s attention shifted from the man he was droning on at to Arden, his gaze sliding over her body in a way that had my hand fisting at my side. “Of course, I’m always on the lookout for new and promising talent.”

I eased into the circle, my arm sliding around Arden’s waist and lips dropping to her temple. “Everything good, Vicious?”

Arden melted into me, her hand going to my chest. “Just discussing the art we all gravitate toward.”

Benny put his hands on his hips and glared at Quentin. “I don’t think there’s any art in Miss Arden’s dress. You should look at the walls.”

Arden ducked her head, trying to disguise her smile as the gentleman opposite us started coughing to hide his laugh. Dots of red hit Quentin’s cheeks, but he scowled at the little boy.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” I murmured.

Quentin’s angry eyes flashed to me. “Someoneshould teach this child some manners. Where are his parents?”

“Someone should teachyousome manners,” Benny shot back, not intimidated in the least. “I know you don’t look at a lady’s boobies. My dad says.”

This time, both the man opposite me and I lost it. The older gentleman wore a cowboy hat and shined boots, and as he turned to Quentin, his belt buckle gleamed. “The kid has a point. And all that money talk isn’t the way we operate around here.”

Quentin lifted his chin. “I won’t apologize for my wealth.”

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