PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (12 page)

It was one of my favourite places in the city, and it was a tremendous
honor to have an exhibit dedicated to my paintings. The fact that I’d gained a
fantastic working relationship with the head curator, Adam Garmont, was simply
a coveted perk.

With some time to spare before her arrival, I ascended the last few
stairs before the drop-off to my corner of the gallery. I turned at the passage
away from the ascent, striding alongside the circular railing that gave a
stunning view of the lower atrium levels, and passed several galleries
featuring recovered artifacts and priceless art that made my head spin.

But that was nothing compared to when I stepped into my gallery.

Gloria Van Lark matched every story I heard of her. With her attention
focused on a wintery landscape piece I’d painted on a five-foot canvas, she
stood tall, hawkish, with long black hair and half-moon spectacles. She was
dressed in form-fitting black attire under a flowing coat, a colorful shawl,
and a pair of white, cubic earrings that glistened as the light touched the
fine jewelry tips.

Oh sweet Jesus, Gloria Van
Lark is here.

I could feel my phone buzz in my pocket, and I moved to silence the tone
from my group texts. Although she stood thirty feet away, Gloria’s head twisted
to regard me coolly, and her face settled into a small, wicked smile.

“You should know better than to disturb others with your technology,
Riley.”

Just hearing her lips speak my name clashed against the incredible
embarrassment I felt at the social
faux
pas
. I quickly dug my phone out and silenced it, slipping it back into my
purse.

“Miss Van Lark, it is… an absolute pleasure to finally meet you,” I
spoke as I approached her, summoning all the courage my heart could muster.

“Charmed,” she spoke almost sarcastically, extending her delicately
manicured hand. I noticed a flash of green across her nails as I lightly shook
it, matching her pressure.

“What brings you to New Orleans?” I asked politely.

She ignored the question, turning back to face the wintery landscape. “I
see that you rely on a clear coat water-based style. Popularized to American
culture by the famous Bob Ross.”

“I grew up watching his work,” I nodded, fondly remembering his thick,
curly afro, his soft and gentile voice, and the kindness in those old, warm
eyes.

“Yes, as did many,” she replied. “He did great things for making the
production of passable art accessible to otherwise talentless imbeciles… in
some cases, those said imbeciles came to learn a touch of greatness… it was
rare, but it happened.”

I nodded along, trying to determine if she was commenting on American
culture, or insulting me. I assumed it was probably both.

“I’ve heard of you in passing, Riley.”

“What have you heard of me?” I asked, trying to keep the sheer curiosity
out of my tone.

“A number of things: that you’ve a natural at your craft, that you work
quickly and efficiently, that you are a humble but confident artist with
friendly working relationships with a dozen museums in this city alone… what do
you have to say about these things?”

 
I was caught a little
off-guard as she turned her undivided attention to me, the creases around her
eyes settling into a deep, analytic gaze.

“I… would say that you haven’t heard wrong,” I responded. “I work hard
at this,” I waved to the paintings surrounding us. “I’ve dedicated my life to
the craft. I’ve been lucky enough to support myself exclusively through my art…
sent on international retreats… that I’ve–”

“Yes, yes, your resume is very impressive,” she drolly commented. “If you
honestly think I care even the
slightest
about
your past, then you fail to grasp what will earn a single spot in the
Spinnoc
.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Riley, do you
deserve
a place in the
Spinnoc
?”

I didn’t know how to answer this, and I suspected that it was a trick
question.
Does she want me to be bold, or
does she want me to be humble? What does this woman
want
from me?

I answered the first thing that came to mind.

“…No.”

Her eyes flared open.

I clarified: “Miss Van Lark, with absolutely all due respect… I don’t
deserve
a spot, but I
want
one. It’s all I’ve wanted for
years… and I feel that I can earn it, if I haven’t already.”

It was only then that I noticed a few other patrons in the gallery,
perusing my art. They appeared to recognize me, which wasn’t difficult, given
that my face was on a nearby wall-mounted foam board with a short biography. It
was a few small groups of people: one, a lithe, elderly woman, was speaking to
a younger couple in a hushed tone and watching me.

Gloria Van Lark leaned in closely with a crisp, cold smile, so that only
I could hear her response: “I will be in touch, Miss Ricketts.”

With that, she lifted her chin and strolled from the room, leaving me
stone-faced and defeated. I knew what that meant. I’d heard the stories.

The legendary curator had turned me down.

My shoulders rose as I took in a deep, hectic breath, struggling to come
to grips with the opportunity that had just sailed past me.

“What a bitch,” an old voice whispered quietly to me. I turned my head,
snapping back to reality, and noticed the lithe, elderly woman at my side. “Who
was that, anyway?”

“Her name is Gloria Van Lark,” I answered mechanically, feeling the life
start to slip back into my veins. “She’s a powerful and influential curator…
she headhunts for one of the most prestigious museums in the country.”

The old woman chuckled. “She didn’t look all that impressive to me. All
that black? Bah. What is it with people and black? You’re in a museum, not a
godforsaken funeral! Chirp up!”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s right, that’s a good girl,” the woman smiled softly. “You’re the
one who painted all of this, aren’t you? What was it… Riley Ricketts?”

“That’s me,” I nodded. “Do you like it?”

She gave the room another glance. “If you want an old crone’s opinion… I
certainly think you’ve got a knack for this. How long have you been painting?”

“Since I was old enough to hold a paintbrush.”

“Heh. Good answer. A little cliché, but it gets the point across,” she
winked. “Anyway… don’t get your hopes down. Sounded like you really respected
that woman… I’m sure you’ll get another chance down the line. You never know.
Maybe it’s just not your time yet.”

I smiled fondly at her. “You’re very kind.”

“I’m told that sometimes,” she laughed. “Well… I’ve got to get back to
my grandson.” She indicated the male half of the younger couple, standing over
to the side, near the exit of the room. They didn’t appear to be watching for
her. “But before I go, why don’t we look at this one together?”

She pointed me towards one of my earlier pieces, the painting of an
arguing couple on a bridge during noon. I had been experimenting with a
post-modern influenced style at the time. I wasn’t terribly fond of this one
anymore, but it was considered a classic in the circles who appreciated my
work.

“Why don’t you tell me what you were thinking when you painted this
one?” She whispered behind me.

I fell into a small trance, thinking back on that time in my life. It was
before I had won the Finland scholarship, and taken the artist’s retreat. It
was from a more chaotic time, when I still struggled with my foster parents and
their wishes for the direction I was going to take in life.

I snapped out of my thoughts. “I don’t think very much when I paint,” I
answered. “But this comes from a rough time in my teenage years… at the time, I
was conflicted over–”

Glancing back over my shoulder, I noticed that the three of them –
elderly museum patron included – were completely gone.

With a soft, recollecting smile, I silently thanked the stranger for her
tenderness and her kindnesses, and I turned back to silently regard my old
painting once again.

Chapter 10

Lex

I got it into my head that I wanted Riley to see a little more of the
kind of lifestyle I usually led. That’s why I booked a private suite in one of
the most expensive hotels around, surprising her in her apartment with a room
pass.

“The Frione?” She asked, tilting her head as she studied the small,
plastic card on its lanyard. “You booked us a room at the freaking
Frione
?”

“I did,” I chuckled, crossing my arms. “Room is already prepared and
everything.”

“But that’s such an exclusivist hotel,” she thought aloud, turning back
to face me. “How did you afford that?” Her gaze changed, and she stiffened up a
little. “How much money
do
you have,
Lex?

“Enough to cover my bases,” I answered conservatively, cocking my
eyebrow. “Are you coming along, or are you going to just sit there and gawk at
that card?”

“Give me half an hour,” she replied, dashing towards her bedroom.

I made myself comfortable as I heard her rummage through her room,
slapping together a bag of the “essentials.” When she eventually came back out,
dressed in a sleek dress with a small suitcase, I couldn’t help but stare
openly at her.

“What’s the matter?” Riley asked.

“You… look absolutely beautiful.”

For the first time, I watched her blush. “Th-thank you,” she murmured,
before composing herself and carrying the case straight past me. “You don’t
look so bad yourself, handsome.”

I stood up from her couch, straightening my tailored suit and running my
fingers through my thick hair. “Thanks, buttercup,” I grinned. “Shall we be
off?”

I followed her downstairs and hailed a taxi. Twenty minutes later, we
were strolling through the lobby of the lavish Frione hotel, taking in the
sights of the beautiful smoked marble and Grecian columns.

One of the delights to this hotel was the glass elevator to the private
upper suites. Running up the outside of the building, we were treated to a
phenomenal view of Downtown New Orleans as the elevator ascended. Night had
just fallen across the port city – the sea of lights and extravagance beneath us
stretched in every direction. In the distance, we spotted the pair of parallel
Crescent City Connection bridges that crossed the Mississippi River, stretching
far and rising high into the sky from the twirling tangle of Interstate
highways.

“It’s so beautiful up here,” Riley purred.

“Only with you here,” I whispered in her ear. I could practically sense
the light hairs standing up on the back of her neck, and she turned to face me
with vulnerable but hungry eyes.

We still had several floors to go, but the view wasn’t going anywhere.
Our lips locked as I pulled her into my warm embrace, and Riley’s wrists
dangled together around the back of my neck.

“Oh, Lex,” she murmured between kisses. “What did I ever do to deserve
you?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” I told her.

It was true. My time with her was better than I could have possibly
dreamed. When I’d come to America, I’d hoped for a few good lays, keeping my
head down and trying some of the local New Orleans flavour…

But none of that mattered now.

Riley Ricketts fulfilled me. She drew my attention and swelled to occupy
my every waking thought. The more time we spent together, the less willing I
was to part… and I knew, painfully so, that we didn’t have more than a few
weeks together.

I heard Jess’s thoughts in the back of my head.

Find a nice American girl.

Bring her back.

Show Brett Barker you can
settle.

Sure, that had been part of the plan… but now my fixation on gaining the
sponsorship through playing the part became more intimately involved with a
different objective altogether.

I sensed something new and very much alive, curling up from the bottom
of my heart like smoke in the dark.

Do I dare admit it to myself?

We parted lips, and I realized how primal our breathing had become. Our
chests heaved together as we watched one another, gazing deep and passionately
into each other’s eyes.

I only barely noticed that we’d arrived at our floor… and that an older,
immaculately dressed couple was gazing impatiently at us, just on the other
side of the elevator doorway.

“A thousand pardons,” I murmured to them, taking my woman by the arm and
leading her between them.

Riley and I chuckled as we pulled ourselves down the hall and towards
our room, paying the faintest attention to the suite numbers. As I tugged my
card out and slid it into the doorknob reader, Riley’s lips were more or less
glued to my neck…

Until we stepped into the room, that was.

“…Holy shit,” she blurted out.

The suite was a blend of contemporary sophistication and historical
elegance, featuring dark wood tones with contrasting mocha and cream carpeting.

Along the wall above the magnificently deConnort king-sized bed, a
backlit aquarium recessed into the wall, filled with beautiful tropical fish of
extraordinary colours and breeds.

The thick, luscious drapes on the opposing wall were pulled aside and
roped to the edges, revealing a large and jaw-dropping view of the very same
nightlife we’d witnessed from the glass elevator.

Turning the corner, a luxury kitchen stood at attention, filled with
various superfluous touches and leading down a couple of steps to a small spa
area. Inside, I observed a steam room, a sauna, and a private Jacuzzi tub.

The bathroom was on the opposite side of the kitchen, up several steps
and featuring an oversized glass shower room – with overhead recessed faucets
to simulate perfect rainfall – and a lavish mirror above a marble sink
countertop with Italian-style bowl sink.

“Good lord, Lex,” Riley murmured to herself, taking in the sights as she
quietly explored the suite. “This is fucking incredible… and exactly what I
needed after the day I’ve had…”

“It
did
sound like something
was the matter earlier, over our texts,” I commented. “Do you want to tell me
what happened?”

“I met Gloria Van Lark,” she answered calmly. “She appeared in town and
was seen in a few museums that featured my art… I had a confusing conversation
with her.”

“Oh? That’s fantastic!” I grinned, before realizing the implications.
“Wait… it doesn’t sound like that went particularly well.”

“She turned me down,” Riley sadly told me. “I had my chance, and I blew
it. She’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, pulling her into an embrace and stroking her
hair. “I know how much it meant to you to earn her respect… I’m sure you’ll get
another chance sometime. You’ve got a long career ahead of you, and you’ll be
in one of those galleries before you know it.”

“It’s funny, one of the visitors said something kind of like that…”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Someone who overheard and took pity on me after she saw the kind
of effect meeting Gloria had on me… but anyway, that was earlier, and this is
now. And
now
is… wonderful,” she told
me.

Riley glanced warmly up into my eyes and kissed me on the lips again.
After a few seconds, she pulled out of my arms to admire the etched crown
molding along the edges of the room.

“Did you seriously get this incredible suite for us tonight? It’s
absolutely amazing in here…”

“I wanted you to have a taste of deConnorce,” I commented casually,
stripping off my blazer and setting it on a hanger in the large walk-in closet.
“Renting that small motel room down the other block is a modesty…
this
is something a little closer to my
tastes.”

“You’re richer than I thought you were,” she realized aloud, turning to
me.

“
Richer
is relative. But does
this change anything for you? Maybe how you feel about me?”

“Not a goddamn bit,” she smiled, pulling me into a tight hug as she
leaned up on her toes, planting her lips on mine…

Ten minutes later, the shower was running, her palms were against the
glass wall, and mine were on her hips – as I bucked into them, again and again.

My lips found her throat and I groaned my satisfaction into the tender
flesh, grazing my teeth along the edge.

She cooed in response, and I bit down, feeling her body murmur against
me in complete, unadulterated delight. “Oh god, Lex,” she whispered as the
water drizzled down and the steam rose up around us. “You know how to fuck me
so well…”

I released one hand to clutch a fistful of her hair, and I tugged
backwards, holding her face up near the glass. Before the steam could
completely cloud our vision, I forced her to watch us fucking in the large
mirror, just a couple of yards straight ahead.

“That’s right, just like that,” she half-whispered, half-moaned. “Fuck
me with your huge cock…”

At first, I ignored the request, relinquishing my grip on her skin and
withdrawing from inside her. But before she could mutter her dislike, I changed
my mind… and pulled her from the shower, wiping my feet off on the mat just
outside.

Confident in the grip of my soles against the tile, I spun her around,
lifting her up beneath her buttocks and supporting her against the glass wall.
The water continued to drizzle on the other side of the glass as her ankles
wrapped around my hips, clasped together into the small of my back.

“Oh wow… oh
fuck
,” she
groaned, enjoying the position as she realized what I had done. Now, she could
rest against the wall, completely supported by my strength, and watch me plow
into her again and again in the mirror.

“Lex… god
dammit
, Lex…”

My lips forced themselves down on hers, and I lifted her just a few
degrees higher, giving myself a better angle to penetrate her on my cock. I
loved how she was growing accustomed to the length, and within a few minutes of
this, she was relaxed enough to allow my full length inside.

Once I was hilting her, feeling her slick, warm pussy clamp around my
thick, throbbing tool, I felt my mind melt into a blissful paradise.

There were no stresses now.

No bellyaching publicist friend.

No rivals, dangling for what was mine.

No concerns over corporate contracts.

There was only the way that our bodies intermingled, our blood pumping
through our veins as we fucked each other, so blissfully full of
life
and
passion.

The sex I’d had before?

Mechanical. Just a means to an end, a way to release my own personal
drug – a blinding mixture of endorphins and chemicals that flooded my head,
giving me the high that let me forget all about the darkness in my past.

When I fucked, it all went away.

I could sleep at night… fitfully, sometimes, but at least it was
something.

With Riley, though… it was as if an entirely new height was being
reached. Even form the start, I’d felt something different about the ways our
skin pressed together, and our bodies bent for one another.

I felt my restraints falling apart.

Riley was moaning at the top of her lungs now. I could feel her body
tense up as she released a mighty scream, unimpeded by thin walls or the need
for privacy. She let loose every ounce of strength she had, lost in the throes
of passion as she came
hard
around my
cock.

And as her pussy clenched, desperate to milk me dry, I felt my body grow
rigid. I couldn’t hold on any longer, and my limbs stiffened, pinning her into
my embrace against the walls. Her fingertips were digging deep into my
shoulders as my balls seized up, and I exploded with a roar of blinding ecstasy
as my cock drained itself completely dry inside her – pumping the hardest,
thickest, most voluminous orgasm I’d ever experienced in my entire life deep
into her wet, sopping chasm.