Page 65 of Stick to the Deal
“Come now, Ms. Atherton, you expect me to believe that a catalog photographer is suddenly capable of fine art photography?” She holds out her phone, eager to record every word.
“Yes, I have made my career through my skills in portraiture, although I have never artificially manipulated my work. Some manual color, lighting, or focus correction, but no digital effects. That photo is thanks to a long capture camera and patience.”
“I still have the frostbite to prove it,” I quip.
The group breaks into light chuckles. Seemingly more annoyed, the young woman turns to me. “Do you have any comments on your wife’s work, Lord Ravenscourt? Would you prefer that she join your family foundation efforts instead?”
Nic bristles by my side. I squeeze my hand still clasped at her waist. “I have always been a supporter of the arts. It would be quite hypocritical to hold back such a gifted artist as Nicolette. I may be her husband, but I’m also one of her biggest fans. While my wife shares my passion for supporting artists, depriving the world of her viewpoint would be a crime.”
The journalist finally gets the message. With pursed lips and a curt nod, she takes off, leaving the gallerycompletely.
The remaining group asks a flurry of additional questions about Nic’s collection. Her inspirations, her process. If she plans to show again. I stand by silently, damned proud to be the one next to her.
Chapter 34
Jealous Husband
Ican’t believe he’s here. That’s the thought that keeps spiraling through my mind as I smile and entertain questions from the press and potential buyers. It’s not that I don’t think Reginald supports my work, he was the one that encouraged me to do this show after all. After the gala, I didn’t think showing up in person fit in with the whole marriage deal. Bree and Anna aren’t even here. That’s because I didn’t tell them about it.
I agreed to do this because I felt inspired in the moment and ran with it without a second thought. When it all became real, a tidal wave of what-ifs flooded my mind and I decided to keep the event to myself. I’m not even sure how Reginald knew about it, unless he got it off our shared calendar.
Yes, I let him link our calendars—it simply makes coordinating functions and travel easier.
The show has been fantastic. Talking about my photographs with like-minded individuals is invigorating. The girls have always loved my work, but they’ve never truly understood it. Mingling with other artists and hearing critics praise my photographs has been so much more than I ever dreamed.
Reginald’s hand trails across my lower back, distracting me momentarily from the art buyer talking to me. “I’ll be right back. Would you care for more champagne?”
I nod silently. His lips brush my temple in a kiss so brief I wonder if I imagined it.
The buyer hands me a card and promises to be in touch. Before I can relax, Henri has taken her place. “How are we holding up?”
I blow out a quick breath, my hair fluttering by my jaw. “Exhausted. Has it really only been a couple of hours?”
“Oui.I hope you regain your energy soon. Almost all the pieces have already sold. You are about to be a very busy lady, indeed.”
“Seriously? How is that possible?”
“I told you, Nic, you have a unique view and the talent to capture it. This is only the beginning of a beautiful friendship. I want to put another show on the books,mon amie. Tout de suite.“ He holds up an elegant hand, waving away any objection before I can even form them. “Now excuse me, I must go talk more buyers out of their money.”
Wow. Of course I’d hoped a few of the pieces would sell, but practically all of them?
“Nic, there you are, love. Look at you, well done.”
I turn to the voice, shocked to see Kenzo standing there in black jeans, a white tee, and a black leather jacket. Without his guyliner and spiky hair, I almost didn’t recognize him.
After he shared my photos of his concert, he’s been interacting with my posts a lot—including the video of Huck’s band at New Year’s Eve. We’ve been DMing off and on—mostly about contracts and compensation for using my pictures on the album cover.
“Kenzo, what are you doing here?”
He pulls me in and kisses both my cheeks. Stunned, I don’t fight it. “I’m in the city meeting with my label before heading back out on tour. Saw the article about your show and figured I’d check it out.” He motions around the room. “I like your stuff. I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on you for all my future album covers.”
A throat clears behind me. Reginald is standing nearby with two glasses of champagne. I reach for one. His knuckles, white where they grip the stem, take a moment to loosen. “Thanks, darling. Kenzo, I don’t think you’ve met my husband yet.”
Kenzo holds out his hand. “Good to meet you, mate. Congratulations. The news explained why I couldn’t even convince this one to join me for dinner.”
I roll my eyes. Turning back to look at Reginald, I expect his steel eyes to glitter with their previous dry humor, but something darker and cold shines there. Jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. This is not the same man who went for drinks. What the hell happened in the last five minutes?
“That so? And how did you meet my wife?” Reginald’s hand anchors on my hip, but without the earlier softness.
