Page 92 of The Renter
“Casual,” I mouth to Adam.
“I saw you staring at it for a while.” My heart races that he bought this for me. “We can hang it in your apartment,” he says, grabbing my hand.
“Adam,” I say, shaking my head. “It–”
“No pressure,” he interrupts. “I can donate it if you don’t want it.”
My eyes betray me, welling up. I stand, not wanting to cry in such a public setting, and walk out of the room, trying to manage all the emotions bubbling over.
“Dani, what’s going on?” he asks, following me.
In the hall, away from the crowd, I stop walking, but my tears continue.
“What’s going on?” he asks again, his tone more concerned than the first time.
“You just spent one million dollars on me.” I pause, tears flowing down my face. “I didn’t ask for that, and I feel so fucking guilty because I don’t want it. It reminds me of the worst day in my fucking life.”
He hugs me, holding me tight. “Tell me, Peanut.”
Slightly muffled by his hug, I say, “The painting reminds me of being at my dad’s rehab facility.”
“Dani,” he soothes, squeezing me tighter.
“I remember sitting in the waiting room, waiting for it to be guest visiting hours. To see my dad for the first time in weeks.” I’m blubbering at this point and take a deep breath.
He holds me for a silent moment as I continue to cry. I’m embarrassed by my reaction and try to get a hold of myself.
“Don’t feel guilty,” he soothes, running his hand down my hair. “Whether it was the painting or something else, I was buying something this evening,” Adam says, loosening his hug and wiping the tears from my face. “Geoff’s daughter put this event on, and I wanted to show him a sign of good faith for our potential partnership.”
Feeling less guilty, a small laugh escapes.
“Since we’re not keeping it,” Adam continues. “I’ll get it appraised and donate it. My accountants will be thrilled with the deduction.”
Seeing my makeup all over his dress shirt, I’m so embarrassed.
“Sorry,” I say, pointing to it, feeling relieved he didn’t buy the painting solely because I was staring at it for a while.
“Don’t be. Do you want to go?” he asks, and I nod.
As we walk outside, my mind’s racing, reflecting on this world I’m becoming a part of. The competition, the displays of wealth, the intricate social dances—being with Adam in Chicago is complicated.
76
Dani’s the first to step into the SUV, and on a flirty impulse, hoping to lighten the mood, I spank her with the auction paddle.
“Hey!” Dani squeaks, her voice surprised, then amused. She quickly snatches the paddle from my hand before sliding into the vehicle.
“I know this is so different from the lake.” I slide my arm over her shoulder, hugging her into me. “You’re a great date,” I whisper. “Forget all about the painting.”
Having Dani by my side, emotions and all, made the night not only bearable but enjoyable—a nice change of pace for the social demands of my life.
She pulls away, looking at her face in the front camera of her phone, fixing her makeup.
“Come here,” I growl softly, opening my arms, an urge to be closer to her consuming me. To continue to comfort her from earlier. “I love you so much,” I whisper, hugging her again.
Even though the painting resurfaced memories for her, she’s so strong. I love that about her. She’s resilient. I can’t imagine what that experience was like for Dani.
Dani looks up at me, and our lips meet in a gentle kiss. Her hands pull me by the back of the neck, turning our kiss passionate. I’m surprised when she slides on top of me, and the driver continues toward my place, seemingly unfazed, but I’m aware of the presence of an audience.
