How Sweet It Is (18 page)

“It’s more complicated than that,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“It doesn’t seem complicated.” Chloe pursed her lips. “Do you like the way my mum kisses?”

“What?” He shook his head, certain he misheard.

“I just never saw her and Charles kiss. I was wondering if she was good at it, because don’t you need practice? Or is it something you just know?” She studied him. “How did you become good at it?”

“How do you know I’m good at it?”

“The expression on my mum’s face. I’ve never seen her look like that before.”

He shook his head. “When did we enter the twilight zone? I’m fairly certain I’m not supposed to talk to you about this stuff.”

Chloe shrugged. “This is all new to me. I didn’t even know Mum had a boyfriend until you showed up Sunday night.”

Boyfriend
. The term jarred him. “Do you mind?”

The teenager shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Are you a wanker?”

He thought about that. “I suppose it depends on who you ask.”

The girl smiled slowly. “That might be a point in your favor.”

The dog pressed against his leg with a plaintive whimper. He looked at it and pointed to the floor. “Lie down.”

The dog dropped instantly.

“I can’t believe Schrödinger listens to you like that.” Chloe shook her head. “You must not be that bad.”

“I’m not.” He eyed the girl and then held his hand out. “Truce? At least while I’m in London?”

The kid shrugged but took his hand. “Sure. Unless you hurt my mum, then I’m siccing Schrödinger on you.”

They both looked down at the mutt, who’d closed his eyes and was beginning to snore.

“You might have to come up with a harsher punishment,” Finn said wryly.

“You may be right.” Chloe smiled.

He stared at her, stunned by how much she looked like Viola when she smiled. A protective urge rose in him, shocking him into silence. He didn’t know how he found himself there with these women, but he thought he might like it.

Chapter Twenty

Viola walked into her gallery, excited to have finally gotten the keys from the leasing company. But the pit of her stomach fell the second she swung open the door.

Sebastian stopped abruptly behind her. “This isn’t good,” she heard him mumble.

It was possibly worse than when she’d viewed it in the first place, and it hadn’t been good then. There were boxes upon boxes and trash bags stuffed to the brim. Broken pieces of furniture were propped in the corner. The walls hadn’t been refreshed with a coat of paint yet, and the aged gray left Viola feeling sickly.

“What is this?” she said, panic rising up in her gorge. She walked over to the closest pile of boxes and peered inside them. “It’s just junk. They were supposed to have all this cleared.”

Sebastian strode into the next room. A few moments later he returned, shaking his head. “It’s pretty bad all over. Want me to call the leasing company?”

“I’ll do it.” Pulling out her mobile, she strode toward the back, which wasn’t any cleaner than the front.

She decided to call Bonnie instead of the leasing company. After a brief conversation, her agent said she’s take care of it and call her back.

Three minutes later, Bonnie called back. “They had some trouble with the previous tenant. They’re going to rectify it.”

Viola blew out a relieved breath. “Excellent.”

“But it’s going to take two weeks.”

The relief melted into a flood of panic. “That’s cutting it too close. I need to make sure the paint on the walls is dry, and that the smell is aired out. I need to arrange the artwork, and there’s lighting that needs to be sorted out. Opening night is in three weeks, Bonnie.”

“I know, but this is the best they can do,” Bonnie said apologetically. “If you want to arrange for the cleaning, I can ask them to reimburse you. I have a crew I can recommend.”

“Let me think about it.” She put a hand to her stomach, which churned with stress. She thanked her agent and rejoined Sebastian.

She must have visibly appeared nauseous, because Sebastian squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Viola. There’s plenty of time to have the walls painted. In fact, the guys and I can do it. Luca and Rowdy would gladly give a hand.”

Forcing herself to breathe, she nodded. “You’re right. It’s not that bad.”

“On the spectrum of fuck-ups, this is minor.” Sebastian smiled. “We have time to fix this.”

She took his arm and squeezed it. “Thank you. I’m grateful for your help.”

He shrugged. “It’s self-serving really, so don’t make me out to be a white knight or anything.”

“How is doing all this work self-serving?” She shook her head. “Are you planning on opening your own gallery when you go back home?”

“Ha.” He grinned at her. “Could you imagine the sort of art I’d show? Probably comic book art and maybe cartoons. I don’t have the eye that you do.”

“It takes more than an eye. It takes business acumen, and that’s something I don’t have at all. Look at this.” She lifted a tattered grungy magazine with the tips of her fingers. “I should have verified that they were going to deliver the property properly. Isn’t that what you’d have done?”

He hesitated, then he nodded. “Yes, because people aren’t accountable. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t made my fair share of mistakes. It’s a learning process. It’s the first time you’ve opened a gallery. The next one will be smoother.”

“There won’t be a next one if this one fails.” She thought about the loan on the house and how she could lose it all and she felt sick all over.

The door to the gallery opened and Bea sauntered in. She looked like a centerfold for a business magazine, so competent and put together that it made the space look that much more chaotic.

She stopped in the middle of the space and turned in a slow circle. “Interesting decorating choice, darling.”

Vi shook her head. “This is a mess.”

“To put it lightly.”

“It was supposed to be cleared out.”

Her sister’s brow furrowed. “Yet they delivered it this way? Do you want me to call them?”

“I already did.”

“And when are they rectifying it?”

“They can’t fix it in time.”

“So we’re going to take care of it,” Sebastian interjected.

Bea’s lips pursed. “I can call someone to take care of this.”

It was tempting. Bea had the resources, and it’d be so easy to let her.

But this was her endeavor and her mess. The whole point was to be successful in her own right. If she let her sister save her whenever something went wrong, what would it be worth?

Vi shook her head. “I can handle this.”

“I’ll help her,” Sebastian said.

Bea faced him, brows arched. “Why?”

Unfazed, he shrugged. “Why not?”

“It just seems bizarre,” she replied, her gaze suspicious.

“Maybe I need something to do,” he replied with more of an edge to his voice.

Beatrice squared off in front of him. “It seems like you’d have things to do in the States.”

He shook his head. “I get that you’re the mother hen, but your protective urges are misplaced here. I’m just trying to help Viola.”

“I don’t understand why.”

“Maybe because it makes me feel good,” he said, his voice raising. “Maybe because I never paid much attention to the needs of other people, and I’m trying to change that. Maybe because she’s family.”

“Convenient that you decided to remember family once Reginald died and you inherited the title.”

He faced off with her older sister. “You can’t tell me you, Ms. Mistress of the Universe, haven’t had me checked out yet.”

Bea narrowed her eyes. “I have.”

Viola groaned.

Her sister frowned at her. “Of course I have. I’m not going to let someone threaten my family.”

“You know how well-off I am.” Sebastian pointed at her. “In fact, you’d have to admit that while I may not be greedy enough to own the world the way you do, that I’m quite set with my quiet corner of it.”

Glaring at him, she crossed her arms. “Which is why none of this makes sense.”

“It does if you’d bother to learn the whole story.” He glared back at her, all the way out of the gallery. He shoved the door open. The force of it slamming shut made it bounce open and slam a second time.

Bea flinched. “You’re going to have to have that fixed.”

“On my list.” Vi took her phone out to make a note, glancing at her sister to make sure she was all right. “Interesting exchange.”

“What do you think he meant?” Bea turned to her. “I did a thorough sweep of his background. I know the whole story, and I don’t see any reason for him to be here except that he wants something from us.”

“Aren’t you the one who says everyone wants something?” Vi asked.

Bea smiled ruefully. “But I don’t like it when they want something from my loved ones.”

Vi looked around her future gallery. “Fact of the matter is that, for whatever reason, he’s eager to help me, and I’m willing to accept his help.”

“Why are you being so stubborn about letting me help you? I don’t see how it’s different.”

“And, yet, it is.” She smiled to soften her words. “You of all people should understand that I want to accomplish this on my own. You wouldn’t be able to restrict yourself to just supporting me. You have a natural inclination to take over.”

Bea frowned. “I can’t argue with that.”

She hugged her sister. “I appreciate the sentiment though. It makes me stronger to know you’re behind me.”

“I’m always behind you,” Bea said, holding her tightly.

“I know.”

***

Viola set her mobile down and stretched her head forward to loosen the tension in her neck. It’d been a long day already, and it was only three in the afternoon.

The front door opened, and Schrödinger trotted into the kitchen. He greeted her by bumping her leg with his snout and then went to drink water from his bowl.

Chloe came in after him, her face tight. Viola opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but then Charles strutted in after her. He smiled when he saw her and came toward her.

He was going to kiss her, she realized suddenly. Horrified, she hopped up, her hand out to stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I brought Chloe home.”

That was no excuse to try to maul her. She wanted to tell him that he wasn’t welcome inside any longer—she wanted to tell him to get out. But Chloe was watching with wide eyes, so she swallowed her ire and said, “Charles, we went over this last time. I asked you not to enter my house.”

He frowned as though she’d pierced his heart with an arrow. “This used to be my house, too.”

The thing was, he didn’t have a heart, so she wouldn’t be swayed by that ruse. “But it’s not anymore,” she said, gentle but firm. “I have papers that state it.”

“You could show a little appreciation, Viola.” He looked at her like
she
was the one who’d maligned him. “I only came to see how you were doing. Chloe said you were opening an art gallery, and I came to see if you needed help.”

She glanced at her daughter, who looked guilty. She took Chloe’s hand so she’d know she did nothing wrong. Her gallery wasn’t a secret. “I have all the help I need.”

“Yes, Beatrice is likely managing you.”

She arched her brows at his bitter tone. “It’s my business.
I’m
handling it.”

“What about the business end?” he asked, obviously not believing her. “I know you don’t have a financial sense.”

Chloe shifted next to her, her frown deepening. Schrödinger must have sensed it, because he hopped up at attention and growled deep in his throat at Charles.

Vi patted the dog’s head, grateful for his support. She knew he’d be perfect for the family. Then she looked at her ex-husband. She tried to remember what she’d seen in him, so long ago, but she couldn’t. “I have all the help I need. Thank you for your concern.”

“Because opening a gallery must have a lot of expenses,” he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. “Where are you getting the money from?”

The last thing she needed him to know was that she mortgaged the house. She glanced at Chloe, who frowned at her as though she sensed something amiss. Her daughter was bright—it wouldn’t have taken her long to suss out the situation.

She faced Charles and smiled politely. “Fortunately I’m not your problem any longer, which I’m sure Louise appreciates.”

His face colored, and he stepped back. “In that case, perhaps I should go.”

“That’s probably best,” she said mildly.

He nodded and then left without saying goodbye to his daughter.

Wanker. She glared after him, wanting to drag him back by his ear so he could give their daughter a proper goodbye. Trying to clear the anger from her expression, she turned to Chloe. “Are you hungry? I bought some macarons.”

Her daughter dropped onto a chair, her mouth downturned. “I’m sorry, Mum.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry.” She ran a hand over Chloe’s back. “I’m the one who saddled you with him as a father.”

Chloe smiled a little. “What were you thinking?”

“I have no idea.” She kissed her forehead and then went to get the macarons out.

When she returned to the table, Chloe was looking over the drawing Viola had been working on. “Is this the layout of your gallery?” her daughter asked.

“I’m trying to figure out the layout of the art.” She made a face. “It’s not quite right, but I can’t decide what’s wrong.”

“Everything tells a story.” She reached for a purple macaron. “Usually if a story is off it just means that an element is missing.”

Viola looked at her plan. “So you’re saying I’m missing a plot.”

“Probably not. Maybe more like a character that’ll help your plot along.” Chloe frowned at the scribbled names and printed photos attached to the papers. “Is there a painting that’ll tie it all together?”

“Yes,” she said, picturing Finn’s work. Quite frankly, any of his paintings would fill in the gap she had in her show.

Chloe shrugged. “Then add them in.”

The thing was, Finn hadn’t agreed yet. He would—Viola was sure of it. He wouldn’t have come to London if he hadn’t decided she was important.

Taking a pen, she put in his name on the wall in the front. Then she took a macaron herself, studying her daughter. “Did your grandmother teach you that?”