Page 74 of Broken Pieces
Hope that I can become something more; be happy for once. Become someone worthy of love.
Getting out of the shower and getting dressed, I open my laptop to check my emails as I do every night before completely disconnecting. The first email is yet another encrypted one, from the same blocked sender.
From: Unknown
To: Damian Romano
Subject: None
You were warned. Now, sit and watch.
I snap the laptop shut, a groan of frustration escaping me. Who the fuck does this person think I am? I’m not a puppy to control, especially not from a person who refuses to face me head-on. Picking up my phone, I turn it off and simply disconnect. I know Carter is already on top of it, so I’m just going to let it go and get back to my little bubble with Aria and enjoy the moment, for now.
With everything that has been going on, Damian and I decided to cut the trip short and head back to Chicago as soon as possible. We’ve both been so busy that we haven't even had a chance to talk aboutus. I’m not even sure if there is an us to talk about. After the heart-to-heart we shared in the kitchen, everything is just kind of hanging in the air. Which is definitely not helpful for my anxiety.
He’s been working nonstop on the stolen painting issue since everything blew over. Fathom Group agreed to a meeting with him and his lawyers to come up with a resolution. It turns out the painting was in fact the real one. They claim they got it on a market trade in Europe from a small brand-new company, but when we tried tofind more information, we found out the company had dissolved a few days after that painting was sold. Needless to say, Fathom Group did zero research when they did this trade and I’m sure more than a couple people lost their jobs over it.
So, we’re back to square one with no idea who stole the painting or why, much less why they sold it to one of the biggest companies in the industry, and how the hell they managed to pull that off. After careful consideration, we took the painting back—since it’s rightfully ours and all—but ultimately decided not to use it for the collection. Damian’s legal counsel has tried to keep the story under wraps, and deal with it as quietly and diligently as possible, but that doesn’t deter the media from talking about it. Too much press, and too much unnecessary drama that we don’t need for the opening of the gallery.
So, we’re still one painting down.
Damian had to fly out for the meeting right after we landed, so today, it’s just me and Isabella working at the gallery.
After getting our usual coffee order, I arrive at the gallery earlier than usual to try to get a head start on that one piece we’re missing. As I look for the keys of the gallery in my purse, I can’t seem to find them.
Weird. Maybe I left them at home.
Typically, Isabella comes in really early in the morning to set up for the day so I rarely open up thegallery, but I probably left them at home after cleaning my purse or something. I’ll just find them later.
“Hey! You’re here early,” Isabella says, catching up with me at the gallery entrance.
“Yeah, I want to get this painting fiasco done. If not, we’re going to have to postpone the gala, and that’d be embarrassing.” I laugh.
She rolls her eyes. “These rich art wannabes will be fine if it gets postponed, I promise.”
I bite my lip trying to contain back my laugh. The little I know about Isabella, she comes from old money, her family is ridiculously rich, but she is so down to earth it’s actually impressive.
“How was New York? Was Damian a pain in the ass?”
I stutter, “I–I mean, we–I–he.” I laugh nervously. “He was perfectly nice. We had a nice time, except for the whole stolen painting drama.”
She looks at me suspiciously. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing,” I answer quickly.
“Aria…”
“We kissed again, okay? And we may or may not beexploringthings.”
I am totally not mentioning the mind-blowing orgasm he gave me, because—and I mean this with all the love in the world—Isabella tends to give some lengthy sermonsabout boundaries, and whatnot. She’s just a grumpy righteous woman. Gotta love her for that.
“That is such a bad idea, Aria! A recipe for disaster.” She shakes her head.
“Maybe not, Isa. I like him a lot. Plus, we had a nice time in New York. It was so much fun, like we were in our little bubble.”
“Okay, I get that. But real life is not a little bubble. He’s yourboss. Also known for not doing relationships at all. The man is like a robot.”
I let out a sigh as I take the keys from her hand and work on opening the doors. “You’re worried about me, I get it. But I’ll be fine.”
