Page 39 of Dirty Money
A quick knock, three light taps and then she heard him say, “Peach, did you find everything?”
Wrapping the towel around her to cover herself, she threw the door open. “Weston! How in the world did you know I’d be here?” She poked him in the chest. A chest covered in a soft sweater made out of cashmere in the color of vanilla ice cream. His dark blue slacks matched the color of her dress and she found herself going light headed.Was she to be the Barbie to his Ken?
His smile was genuine as he said, “I just did. Call me psychic, if you will.”
“How about psychotic?” she replied with a high tone to her voice. “This is more than highly unusual. This is bordering, no this is not bordering…, this is what a stalker would do. Who goes out and buys things for a person they’re not even talking to most of the time?”
“I knew you’d come around.” He reached out and pulled her into his arms. She knew she should protest but he held her in a way that took her mind to other places. His lips pressed against hers and the fight in her was extinguished, immediately.
How could he make a complete change in her so damn quickly?
When he ended the kiss, he rested his forehead to hers. “I want to take you out today. A real date with flowers and candy. I’ve made some great plans for you and I. And I wanted you to feel comfortable, so I bought you clothes to make you feel like you fit in because you do.”
“May I ask where it is you’re taking me?” she asked as she ran her fingers over the soft material of his sweater.
“To the club, I’m a member of. I’d like to introduce you to my family and friends. I want them all to know you’re my girl. You are my girl, aren’t you?” One small kiss ended his sentence and melted her heart.
“West, you know that’s something we should talk about before you go announcing anything…”
“I thought we already had talked about it last night. Are you going to tell me that you’ve changed your mind?” His hold on her tightened as if he wasn’t going to let her go if she did say it was all just drunk talk.
“In the light of day, I can see how the way you live will affect me. I don’t think it’s a good idea…”
“I love you. Do you love me?” His question weighed heavily on her.
In the end, she had to admit, “I do love you. But I’m afraid of how this will end.”
“Don’t worry about the damn future. Think about now and what we mean to one another. Don’t stop this for what might happen. I’m not about to love you and know you love me and just keep letting things happen the way they have been. So, what do you say, Aulora? Would you like to be my girl?”
“Can I still be me, if that happens? Can I be the person I’ve always been?”
“I’d have it no other way. I’m not trying to change you in any way. You’re amazing! Why would I even want to change you?”
“The clothes, the jewels,” she said.
“Only to make you feel at ease when I take you places where things like that matter. Other than that, I love the casual way you dress. I never want you to feel out of place. I care about how you feel, peach. So, for today, please wear what I bought for you, so I can introduce you to the people who are special to me. I’ve talked so much about you. They’ve been itching to meet you. And you could make some new fans of your art. Now, wouldn’t that be lovely?”
It would, she thought. It’s rich people who buy art, after all. And it’s not as if she’d never hobnobbed with the super-rich before. She knew how to act at the expensive clubs they all belonged to.Why not go for it?
Weston was the person who brought out more in her where her art was concerned, anyway. Why not let him help her to become the best artist and person she could?
“I’ll be your girl, Weston. That sounds pretty amazing to me.”
“And I’m your guy, Aulora Greene.”
Glitz, glamor, and flash were everywhere once they were inside the prestigious club, Weston and his family belonged to. At times, she felt as if she was a show pony when he introduced her to people.
Aulora knew they were looking at her bone structure to determine if she came from good stock. That’s what wealthy people did, they determined things about people based on their appearances. But it was her art that reeled them all in.
“Oh, my!” an older woman, West had introduced her to, by the name of Emily Snodgrass, proclaimed in surprise when he told her Aulora Green was an artist with her own collection at one of the most prestigious galleries in New York state. “The entire state?” she asked.
Weston nodded and Aulora blushed a bit as he went on to tell the woman more about her than she was used to hearing herself talked about. “She’s already sold an entire collection and she hasn’t even graduated yet. I dare say, she’s destined for greatness, my little peach.”
“And where did you find such a treasure, Weston?” Emily Snodgrass asked, sending a frown over Aulora’s beautifully made-up face.
A dingy pub isn’t a thing an upper-class citizen is supposed to work at. But she found herself staring up at Weston with adoration as he said, “A pub on the outskirts of Queens is where I found my heart. Being an artist, she’s taken the role to heart and took a modest job and flat to help her gain the insight she needs to become a great artist. You know, the pains and tribulations that all great art is created from.”
It was kind of true, after all!
