The Plot
CLYVE
IGNORING THE HEAT swept over my body, I gave her a huge grin while her eyes were still wide in surprise. There was also unconcealable anticipation that swam in her blue pools.
She completely turned to face me, then scrolled her gaze from my face down to my toes. “You look…” She met my gaze again.
“Did you just run out of adjectives, Author Westley?” I was only wearing a black tuxedo and wore my hair back while she was wearing a floor-length long-sleeve embellished silk daring gown with Swarovski crystal beads that covered the important part of her body. The swells of her breasts were exposed, but they still looked pretty decent on her. Her hair was curled and fixed at the back of her head in a stylish way.
I noticed Mr. Carilli was with us, and I met him earlier. He was one of my brother’s invites.
“Did you find your choice, Mr. Carilli?”
“Indeed, I did. That one.” He pointed at Austen’s masterpiece.
“I see.” I snaked my arm around Westley’s waist. “You know that you are one of many buyers of that masterpiece. You just have to wait at the end of the night, I guess,” I teased him. “The higher price you offer, the higher of chances you would get the chance to own it.”
He picked up his phone from his suit jacket. “Great. I have a call to make. Now, if you excuse me, Clyve and your beautiful lady.”
“Why does he like that painting so much?”
“Because you are gorgeous and Austen just created a masterpiece that would make him famous and rich. I’m happy for him.”
“Me too. I feel his passion. Thank you for giving him a chance.”
“This is why I have this exhibit and studio. And I couldn’t just watch Austeb as he waited for someone to discover his talent when I believed that could help him.”
We entered another hallway with a collection of paintings when we spotted Westley’s father.
“Mr. Bloom.”
“Just Lyndon, Clyve.”
“Are these?” A surprise voice of Westley caught our attention.
“Yes. I thought I could donate the profit to Clyve’s Heal Our HeArt Organization.”
Her eyes swam with tears. When Lyndon Bloom visited me last week, I thought he would warn me to stay away from his daughter. Then his men just brought his painting collections inside the studio.
“Whether they get buyers or not, I will trust you to take care of these paintings. Since you are dating my daughter, I’d give my trust that you won’t break her heart. Take care of her just like how you take good care of your art.”
“I won’t promise that I might end up breaking it, but you have my word that I’ll take care of Westley with every cell in my body.”
“These paintings are the only good things left I have for her mother. We both collected these during our trips and visits to art galleries all over the world. I hope I could help you even a little.”
“Thanks for trusting me with your collections, Mr. Bloom. I will make sure the money will benefit the project I am handling.”
“Thank you, Dad.” She hugged her father.
“You don’t wanna mess your makeup, Harry.”
Westley laughed. “Can’t help but feel emotional. Let’s go to the lounge.”
“You two go ahead. I already chose two pieces. Congrats on the success of your first art exhibit, Clyve. You’ve just proven to me that I chose the right man.” Lyndon just complimented me, and I thought I just blushed.
“Did you just win his heart?” Westley whispered.
“Or I just won your heart,” I marveled.
“Looks like one helluva of a successful exhibition, brother. I’m proud of you.” Skip raised his wine glass as we got closer.
“This would not be-”
He snorted. “Don’t be such a humble when you’re with Harry. Just say thank you, brother. Good to see you again, Harry.” He kissed Westley’s cheek. Westley moved to Arella. Then they started to have their own conversation.
“Thank you for the boost of confidence. Do you think we can sell ten pieces?” I had not checked the desk about the sale, but I hoped to get more buyers.
“Are you kidding me? I’d been watching that desk for almost an hour now, and the staff couldn’t put that phone down. They are constantly ringing once they hang up. Look at the people around you, they all have deep pockets, and people like them, they are ashamed to go home empty-handed.”
“How about you? You are one of those people who have a deep pocket.”
“I got one.” He grinned.
“Don’t tell me you are one of the buyers of Austen’s masterpiece.”
“Nah. The rate is getting higher. I chose another painting, and Arella likes the woman under the tree.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“It’s painted by one of the soldiers.”
“Yeah. She met him earlier.”
“So, which one is yours?” I painted one of the images of Westley, but I couldn’t sell it. I kept it in my studio in my apartment. I had a few paintings I included in the gallery, but none were related to her.
“Guys,” Austen called. He was wearing a huge grin on his face. He chose to wear a dark blue tuxedo. When I mentioned him to cut his damn hair, he gave me an odd look. “Can’t you believe it?”
“What it is?” His sister with Arella came closer to us.
“Mr. Lau offered six figures for the painting.”
“Let me guess, the Sindy Kate,” Skip interjected.
Westley narrowed her eyes at him. “Did you just name that painting Sindy Kate?”
“Yeah. It suits the painting. Don’t you think, Austen?” my brother said.
He shrugged. “That’s the name actually.”
“Don’t you think you should ask me first before you named it? You need a lawyer brother.” Westley’s eyes narrowed into slits. The tone in her voice changed. “Can I talk to you for a sec, please?”
“Are you mad at me?” he asked.
Westley shook her head. “No. Please?”
“Okay. We’ll be back.” He held Westley’s hand. When I gave them a knowing look, they both walked away.
“What was that all about?” Arella asked.
“I don’t know.” I walked to the buffet and picked up herb-marinated olives and snatched a glass of wine. “Maybe she doesn’t wanna hear about Sindy Kate again, but she seems okay with it though.”
“She can’t run away from the character who made you two closer, you know. Even me, Sinderella is still stuck with me until now,” Arella said.
“It’s not the same. She was a cam girl, and her stepmom used that name to humiliate her,” I replied.
“I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Skip admitted.
“It’s alright. I thought Austen had informed Westley about it. I’ll go check them both. See you guys later.”
I checked them everywhere, but I couldn’t find either Westley or Austen. Maybe they went to the office after I called their names at the female loo and knocked and nobody answered me.
“Westley, are you there?”
The door swung open. “You okay, mate?”
Austen came out of the door and acted as if he didn’t hear me.
“Westley, can I come in?” I was already inside, and I heard nothing from her. She was facing the wall and seemed to be shaking.
“Westley, what’s wrong?” I rushed towards her and forced her to face me. She was crying. I cupped her face and wiped the smeared makeup and tears. My heart sank to my stomach to see her like this. I knew for a fact now that her pain was my pain. “What’s wrong? Did that asshole hurt you?”
She shook her head without meeting my gaze. “No.”
“Look at me, love. What’s wrong?” I pulled her into my chest and wrapped my arms around her. She kept crying no matter how I tried to soothe her. “Tell me, Westley.”
If it was bad news I knew I had known it by now, but it had something to do with them. This may be a family matter, but they were also my family. I shouldn’t have to get in the middle of siblings’ fight, but seeing her like this, and the expression on Austen’s face, I knew I had to do the right thing. Westley was my love, and Austen was my friend.
“Westley, I’m not good at guessing games, and I can’t leave you here like this. Do you wanna go home? I can ditch the exhibit if you wanna rest.”
She pulled away. Her eyes were pleading. “Don’t hate me, please?”
My brows squished together as I kissed the top of her head. “Why would I do that?”
She sobbed. “I told Austen about the story I was writing when you should be the one who I consulted first. I’m so sorry, Linton.”
I held her arms. “And is that what upsets you?” I shook my head and smiled at her to show her that it wasn’t a big deal to me.
“It’s not all. I did something that I knew was intrusive.”
“I don’t care, Westley. I don’t care for as long as you are with me. That’s how much I-”
Before I could finish the words that I’d been keeping in my chest, she stopped me, and I felt like she just stabbed me with a knife.
“You should. The story I wrote is about Sindy Kate and your relationship with her.”