Page 2 of When the Last One Falls
“You’ve been staring at that piece since it got here.” I turned to see Faron Golden walking my way. “It’s not going to change.”
Faron Golden was the owner of Impressions, and Faron Golden was his real name. His mother was a diehard regency romance fanatic, and that’s how a person got the name Faron Golden. Granted, his last name was legit from his father, but still. It didn’t help that he looked like a Faron Golden, either.
I smiled as he came to stand next to me, his six-foot-one frame towering over my five-foot-two. Even in heels, I didn’t make a dent in our height difference. Faron also had dark blonde hair, glittering grey eyes, and a face that resembled royal aristocracy. The man was good-looking, sexy, smart, and built like he should never wear a shirt.
Nonetheless, the man was also wealthy, controlling, intrusive, annoying, and temperamental. While artsy people were often temperamental, Faron had enough mood swings to make you think that he might suffer from bipolar depression. His flair for the dramatic was the only thing that nixed that theory. Faron was definitely an all-eyes-on-me type of personality.
I turned back towards the sculpture. “I’m going to hold off on displaying it for now,” I informed him.
“Why’s that?”
“It looks too familiar,” I stated, considering the piece. “While it’s not a copy, per se, the curves look too…I’m not sure. I just need a few more days to decide.”
“Mars Jolie is expecting to see her piece showcased this weekend,” he reminded me.
“Well, she’s not going to see it showcased until I’m confident that she hasn’t mimicked another artist’s style.”
Faron nudged my shoulder with his arm. “And that’s why I love you,” he said. “I absolutely adore your fearlessness.”
“It’s easy to be fearless when you have money to fall back on,” I retorted. “If you fired me, or Mars were to ostracize me in the art community, I’d hardly starve.”
“True,” he conceded. “But it’s nice to see that integrity still exists in this game.”
Turning away from the sculpture, I looked up at him. “Any plans this weekend?”
Faron shook his head. “I’m working this weekend.”
“Do you need any help?”
“I’d say yes, but I know that you have plans with Dylan and Huntley tomorrow night, and I don’t need a hungover curator getting in my way this weekend.”
I laughed. “You could always play hooky and come drinking with us.”
“Yeah, no thanks,” Faron snorted. “The last time that I got drunk with you ladies, Dylan took me home and I still haven’t recovered.”
This time, I nudged him. “Oh, c’mon,” I teased. “You survived.”
Faron shot me a look. “Barely,” he huffed. “It was like Wild Kingdom, the survival of the fittest edition.”
Out of my two best friends, Dylan was the one with no fucks to give. Huntley was a little bit more reserved, though that wasn’t saying much.
“Well, if you change your mind, just call me,” I told him. “I can help you out if you need it.”
Faron shook his head. “Nah, it’s just paperwork, Shopgirl,” he said. “You have fun.”
“Okay,” I replied as I went back to studying the sculpture.
“If you need a ride, ifanyof you need a ride, call me,” he ordered like the controlling male that he was. “I mean it.”
Yeah, life could be a lot worse, and I thanked God that it wasn’t.
Chapter 2
Brantley~
It was a little past five, but I knew that I wasn’t the only one in the building at this time of the morning. Only the best worked for Kingston Industries, and the only way to become the best was by working hard and doing what the others weren’t willing to do.
My parents were Darius and Lorna Kingston, and the source of all our family’s wealth was Kingston Industries, a business and financial powerhouse that’d been founded by my great-great-grandfather, Seymour Kingston. My mother was your typical wealthy socialite, though she wasn’t as bad as a lot of them. While my father was a right bastard, my mother was tolerable, and it was no secret that money and power were the deities worshipped in the Kingston household.
