Page 17 of Sticky Fingers
“Daphne,” I say with a genuine smile.
God, am I glad to see her. She’s one of a very few select people in this world I don’t just tolerate but actually enjoy being in their company.
“Your speech was wonderful,” she says as she moves in for a hug.
“Thank you,” I reply.
“No, thankyou, Sonia. The painting you donated is a huge help in filling the spot of the missing painting for this event. And it’s absolutely beautiful. It takes my breath away.”
“You do love your art. I figured it would be a hit with you, and that’s why I chose it.”
“Well, thank you,” she says with a laugh. “While I have you, I want you to meet a friend of mine. He’s making his way over here as we speak.”
“A ‘friend’, huh?” I tease Daphne. “Is this the one you’re fighting with for the apartment?”
Daphne smiles. “It’s complicated,” is all she says and I give her a knowing smile.
She may have started as enemies, but I’m thinking she’s fallen in love.
“Sonia, this is my…friend, Dominic,” Daphne says as a tall, muscular, and devastatingly handsome man comes to stand by her.
He places an arm around her and kisses her on the temple in the sweetest and most swoon-worthy way. Damn, Daphne really got lucky.
“Dominic, this is Sonia. She’s the one who donated the beautiful watercolor I told you I absolutely adore.”
“Hi, Sonia,” he says as he extends his free arm in an offer to shake hands. “Nice meeting you.”
I shake his hand and smile.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Dominic. Are you enjoying the night?”
“I am. Although I’m pretty sure I come nowhere close to enjoying it as much as Daphne.”
I laugh. He’s likely right. No one comes close to loving art like Daphne.
“Oh, let me introduce you to a good friend of mine,” he suddenly says.
I feel a presence behind me and turn to see a man moving to stand slightly off to the side, right between me and Daphne.
“This is Malcolm Push. Malcolm, this is Sonia Sawyer.”
I turn to face Dominic’s friend and freeze.
The man responds in the same manner and stares at me in complete surprise.
Oh, shit.
I should have anticipated this. He was at the last party, so why wouldn’t he be here at this one? How could I have been such a fucking idiot and forget this might have happened?
Just because I had never seen him before, I assumed the man from the other night didn’t live in here. Rookie move.
And now, the mystery man I’ve been fantasizing about—despite my best efforts to try and forget about him—is standing right here in front of me.
My skin starts to tingle, and my blood begins to heat up. Flashes of him fucking me near the stolen painting bubble up to my mind’s surface. Ever since I replaced the woman he was fucking that night in my mind, it’s always been me he’s screwing the brains out of endlessly.
My breathing becomes slightly shallow the longer we stare.
His deep blue eyes pierce me, and I know he’s made the connection—he knows I’m the thief. Crap, this isn’t good. Should I stay and see if he rats me out, or run before he has a chance to drag me off to the cops?
