Pinned Up (Pinned Up Trilogy) (28 page)

This evening, I’m wearing a white, retro cap-sleeved dress that goes slightly above my knee with a woven lining and a sheer overlay. My bright lips coordinate with the hot pink stilettos I’m wearing and the matching colored flower above my styled side bun. When I put on my black coat, instantly, I recall being completely naked underneath it and surprising Josh. The way his eyes gazed hungrily at me that night makes me crave him desperately. Oh, how I miss his touch and having his face buried between my legs.
Nina! Snap out of it, girl! You need to focus on business right now! You’re going to be late!

I rush out of my room to find Josh, Celeste, Emme, Kade, and my mom all dressed up waiting for me in the living room. “Hey, you’re early and you all look amazing.” I observe.

I take a good look at Josh and notice he’s wearing a three piece dark grey suit with a black shirt underneath along with a silk, grey tie. He has no stubble, just shaved and immediately, I fantasize to run my lips along his jaw. He looks sophisticated and absolutely delicious. Right away, the song, “Suit and Tie” by J.T. comes to mind. A long sigh escapes me. I can’t help it, Josh looks dreamy, definitely too good to be true.

“Yeah and you look hot as always, but you’re late. We’re taking separate vehicles, the moms will ride together in a different car per their request and the rest of us will go with Josh in his Range Rover. While you’re in the meeting with Dillon, we’ll be waiting for you across the street at the Japanese Steakhouse drinking sakes until Dillon can give us a tour of his studio.” Kade sounds pleased with his agenda.

“You’re finally taking out your date car?” I ask Josh teasingly.

“Yeah, it only collects dust in my garage. I decided to take it out for once and I’ll have to admit, I prefer driving my truck.” Josh shrugs as he declares his preference for his big truck with its roaring engine over his luxury SUV.

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.” Before I leave the house, I pick up my clutch purse and portfolio. Just then, Josh grabs my arm.

“You look stunning.” Josh tells me with admiration in his eyes. “Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Sure.” I respond curiously.

“Will you please allow me to explain what happened with Nicole? I know you don’t want me bringing it up, but it’s been several weeks and I need to explain. I know this isn’t the right time, but will you hear me out tonight after dinner?” He desperately pleads.

“I’m sorry, but that’s behind me. I don’t want to take steps backwards. I’m late; let’s just drop that topic once and for all.” I grab his hand and squeeze it, hoping he’ll understand that no reason he gives me will justify his actions.

“Fine. I’ll let it go for right now, but you will hear me out soon enough.” He holds onto my hand and leads us out of my house.

We arrive at Dillon’s studio, a three story red brick building. The outside sign reads, “Hampton – Fine Arts Gallery – American and International Paintings, Prints, and Sculptures.” Josh drops me off. Everyone will be waiting for me at the Japanese Steakhouse to finish with my meeting and for Dillon to provide them with a personal tour of his gallery. I enter the building, at once, I’m astonished. Although I’ve worked with Dillon a few times, I’ve never been to his workshop. Inside is a high end galleria of art and here, I assumed it was just a typical print studio. As I enter, I observe the sculptures spread out in the middle of the first floor. Throughout the first two stories, I notice the walls are mounted with paintings in categories of Old and Modern Masters, Barbizon Painters, Impressionists, Artists of La Belle Époque and Contemporary. The salesman is locking up and informs me Dillon will be with me soon. I continue to browse.

Shortly after, I hear Dillon’s voice behind me. “Nina, I apologize for the delay. Thank you so much for being here this evening. Our client is expecting us on the third floor, please follow me.”

I give Dillon a small hug and allow him to lead the way. While I had been observing his gallery, I noticed a staircase towards the entrance and back of the gallery. We don’t go towards either direction; instead, Dillon walks me to the elevator that is located in the center of the right wall. When we arrive to the third story, I realize it’s specifically for his print collection. The photos of nature and the aftermath effects of natural disasters are breathtaking. Instantly, I wonder why he wastes his time taking pictures of me with cars when clearly he has such an artistic talent.

Dillon leads the way to his conference room. A man in a suit is standing right by the door. When we enter, the client is sitting at the head of the table, two other men are standing on opposite ends of the room, all men remind me of the secret service for some reason. When the client sees us entering, he stands to greet me.

“Hello, Miss Moretti, a pleasure to finally meet such a stunning woman. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Daniel Martin.” His accent is very alluring.

I provide him my hand expecting a handshake; instead, Mr. Martin turns it slightly and kisses the back of it. The client appears to be in his late fifties, early sixties. He’s handsome with ebony colored hair, olive toned skin, and dark, mysterious eyes. His presence emanates power, wealth, and respect. Or is it fear? For some reason, I’m intimidated by him, something about this man is familiar, but not in a good way. Immediately, I disregard my anxiety and introduce myself. “Hello, Mr. Martin. The pleasure is all mine and thank you for wanting to meet with me today.”

Dillon pulls out a chair, silently directing me to have a seat. As we all sit, Mr. Martin asks, “Miss Moretti, may I call you Nina?”

“Please do.” I smile nervously at the client.

Mr. Martin gives me an amused look. “Nina, before we get down to business, tell me about the Bentley photo shoot. How do you know the owner of that vehicle?”

“Actually, I don’t. I never met the client nor did I ask anything about him.” I answer honestly.

Mr. Martin considers my response. “Well, he seems to be infatuated with you, Nina. He has several portraits of you, although none are sexual in nature. Don’t get me wrong, you look exquisite in all of them, but he appears to have a special interest in you and holds you in high regards.”

“This is news to me, Mr. Martin.” I’m confused. What’s his point?

Mr. Martin directs his attention to Dillon. “I understand you’re the photographer of the Bentley photo shoot, how do you know the buyer of those pictures and how long have you been doing business with him?”

“My client list and the business I conduct with them are completely confidential. I apologize, Mr. Martin, but I cannot provide you with your requested information.” Dillon diplomatically expresses his regret for not being able to answer his client’s intrusive questions.

Mr. Martin smirks at Dillon. “Mr. Hampton, no need to apologize. Even though I appreciate your discretion, I will have to admit that I don’t like rejection. With that in mind, let’s continue with our meeting, shall we?”

We all agree. At that moment, I realize that in my hurry to arrive on time, I accidentally left my portfolio behind in Josh’s Range Rover. “Mr. Martin, pardon me, but it seems I have forgotten my portfolio in the car. I can text someone to drop it off, if that’s okay with you.”

“Please do so, Nina. I would love to see more of your work.” There’s something about Mr. Martin that makes his look towards me feel sinister. He’s behaving like a gentleman, so why is his presence making me feel so uncomfortable?

As I text both Kade and Josh requesting either one to drop off my portfolio, Dillon is on the phone with his sales associate directing him to leave the door unlocked. It’s past closing and all of the gallery’s employees will be off in a few minutes.

Mr. Martin begins to discuss his new tequila line along with his vision for his brand. He provides us with a shot of his tequila añejo which is considered to be premium. Mr. Martin indicates his tequila has been aged in oak for several years, not just the minimum year, therefore considering his brand to be the best and allowing for a hefty price for his superior quality.

Kade quietly interrupts our meeting when he drops off my portfolio. I ask him to stay. At once, I sense Kade’s unease, but he stays in the conference room with me and remains quiet while he plays with his phone.

I provide my portfolio to Mr. Martin. He appears to be impressed with my past work. We discuss the details of his contract. While he’s making me one hell of an offer, I’m not convinced this is something I’d like to do. Being a pin-up model is my way of embracing my sexuality and simply doing it for fun. This tequila campaign would be a great opportunity for my career, if it weren’t for Mr. Martin, I’d gladly accept. Unfortunately, something about him has me second guessing his proposal. Mr. Martin is adamant that I consider his offer of being the face of his tequila brand and join him in his new venture. The meeting is adjourned and we agree to meet tomorrow for dinner to discuss my decision.

As the meeting ends, the two security in the room leave before us. Dillion, Mr. Martin, Kade, and I head down stairs in the elevator with the guard who was outside the conference room earlier. I stand in the back of the elevator beside Mr. Martin. Dillion is in front of us and begins making recommendations of restaurants in the area as the elevator descends. When we arrive at the bottom floor, the elevator doors open, Kade and Dillon exit first. Once they’ve taken a few steps away from the elevator, they raise both hands and lower their bodies to the ground. Simultaneously, Mr. Martin puts me in a choke hold while his body completely wraps me from behind. Too soon, I feel the cool barrel of his gun against the temple of my head.

As the guard exits the elevator, he begins to shoot, there’s gunfire from both directions for a brief moment. Suddenly, the guard’s lifeless body drops to the ground covered in blood. Panic consumes me. I want to yell, and runaway, but I can’t. At this time, an unfamiliar man steps in front of the elevator several feet away. I’m not able to focus on him because I’m trying desperately to loosen the arm that’s cutting off my breathing circulation.

“Get out of my fucking way before I kill her!” Daniel Martin threatens the stranger. The man gestures to two men standing by the elevator to move and allows Daniel Martin to exit the elevator with me as his hostage.

All three men have their guns pointed at Daniel Martin, while he has his gun pointed at me and is standing at an angle near the wall right by the elevator.

Oh, dear God!
I notice Josh on the ground unconscious to my immediate left. I don’t see any blood.
Please, Lord don’t let him be dead!
I plead. Just as I’m about to direct my attention to the stranger, I notice Celeste, my mom, and Emme are face down on the ground. My tears are uncontrollable. I’m living a nightmare and can’t seem to wake up.

Just then, Mr. Martin speaks, “Why am I not surprised to see you, Diego? I knew you had it bad for this little cunt, but never would I have imagined that you would put so much at risk for her. What makes her so special? Why such a fascination with her? Why does she not know of you?” Mr. Martin’s mind is running vigorously trying desperately to figure out the puzzle before him. “Drop your gun and answer my questions or I’ll kill her. I’m a dead man either way; I might as well take down as many as I can with me.” He threatens.

Diego? Who is this man?
I’ve never met him in my life!
Surely, I would remember him if I had, he’s so tall and with such menacing features! What does he want with me? Why me?
I urgently speculate.

At this time, my mom raises her head. “Noooooo! She’s my daughter! Please, I beg you, don’t hurt her!” She pleads.

I stare at my mom, willing her to calm down and ease her worry, but fail miserably.

Daniel Martin ignores my mom as she begs for my life and directs his attention to the stranger before us. “Drop your fucking gun and tell me what this whore means to you. I swear…she’ll go down with me when I die if you don’t tell me!”

The stranger drops his gun. “Mateo, Valentina is my daughter.”

An array of confusion hits me with a striking force.
My father? What? How can that be? Who the fuck is Mateo?

“You lied to me, you little cunt. You told me you didn’t know the owner of the Bentley.” His hold on me gets tighter around my neck for a few seconds, but then loosens it to hear my response.

Through excruciating pain, I reply, “I’ve never met my father. I don’t know who he is. I don’t even know his name. I don’t know what’s going on. I thought you were Daniel Martin, but that man is referring to you as Mateo. I have nothing to do with anything that’s going on between you two. Please just let my family and friends go.” I cry desperately.

“He calls me Mateo because my real name is Mateo Blanco. Maybe you’ve heard of me? Better yet, maybe you’re one of my clients who purchases my fine drugs?” I can feel his hot breath against the side of my face as he speaks through his clenched teeth.

Mateo Blanco? Nooo…Josh’s dad?
Oh, dear God! Josh’s dad is holding me hostage! What the fuck?

The stranger, my father, Diego speaks with a look of malevolence set in his features as he glares at Mateo Blanco. “When this is over, Mateo, you’ll be wishing for death to take over from the slow and agonizing torture I have in mind for you.”