Emily’s heart raced as she surveyed the transformed gallery space. Soft lighting illuminated abstract paintings and sleek sculptures, while the clinking of champagne flutes and murmur of voices filled the air. Her navy dress swished around her legs as she made final adjustments to a floral arrangement.
“Bloody hell, we actually pulled this off,” Sophia whispered, sidling up next to her.
Emily grinned. “Don’t jinx it. The night’s still young.”
Her gaze drifted to Lucas, looking devastatingly handsome in his matching suit as he chatted with her parents. A familiar warmth bloomed in her chest.
“Earth to Emily,” Sophia teased. “Stop eye-fucking your man and help me with these gift bags.”
Emily snorted, grabbing a stack of glossy bags. “Pot, kettle. I saw you checking out that bartender earlier.”
As they worked, Emily’s thoughts wandered to the whirlwind of the past week. The late nights, the stress, the stolen moments with Lucas… It felt surreal to be standing here now, on the precipice of something big.
“You alright, love?” Lucas’s deep voice startled her from her reverie. His hand came to rest on the small of her back, a grounding presence.
She leaned into him, inhaling his familiar scent. “Just nervous, I suppose. What if no one shows up?”
Lucas chuckled. “Then we’ll have one hell of an after-party with all this booze.”
Emily smacked his chest playfully, but couldn’t help smiling. “Prat. This is serious.”
“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You’ve worked your backside off for this. It’s going to be brilliant.”
The gallery owner approached, clipboard in hand. “Ready to open the doors?”
Emily took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. This was it. No turning back now.
“Let’s do this,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
As the first guests began to trickle in, Emily plastered on her most charming smile. Game face on. Time to make some magic happen.
Emily’s heels clicked against the polished floor as she weaved through the crowded gallery, her navy dress swishing around her legs. The air hummed with chatter and the clink of champagne glasses. Her eyes darted from guest to guest, seeking out potential buyers.
“This piece,” she said, gesturing to a vibrant abstract, “represents the artist’s interpretation of chaos and order colliding.”
The older gentleman peered at it, stroking his beard. “Intriguing. How much?”
Emily’s heart leapt. Another sale. That made six so far. The gallery owner was going to shit himself with joy.
As she closed the deal, her gaze drifted to the bar. There was Sophia, tossing her auburn curls and giggling at something the bartender said. Emily suppressed an eye roll. Classic Soph, flirting up a storm.
The bartender was exactly Sophia’s type tall, muscular, with sun-bleached hair and a surfer’s easy grin. He leaned in close as he handed Sophia a cocktail, their fingers brushing.
“For fuck’s sake,” Emily muttered. She excused herself from her client and made her way to the bar.
“Having fun?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at Sophia.
Sophia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, you know me. Just being friendly.”
“Uh huh. Friendly enough to get his number yet?”
The bartender chuckled. “She got that an hour ago.”
Emily snorted. “Of course she did.” She turned to Sophia. “Try not to corrupt the staff before the night’s over, yeah?”
Sophia clutched her chest in mock offense. “Me? Never.”
As Emily walked away, she heard Sophia’s laughter ring out behind her. She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. Sophia deserved some fun.
Emily’s fingers curled around the delicate stem of her champagne flute as she approached the bar, her navy dress swishing softly with each step. Just as she was about to take a sip, a warm hand grasped hers, spinning her around.
“Whoa!” she gasped, struggling not to slosh the bubbly liquid over the rim. Her startled expression melted into a grin as she found herself pressed against Lucas’ broad chest, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Having fun, troublemaker?” he murmured, his lips quirking into a smirk.
Emily couldn’t help but laugh, her whole body relaxing into his embrace. “Jesus, you nearly gave me a heart attack. And made me waste perfectly good champagne.”
Lucas chuckled, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the small of her back. “Can’t have that now, can we? So, how’s my girl doing tonight?”
“Your girl?” Emily arched an eyebrow, a playful challenge in her voice. “I’ll have you know I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need-”
“Who doesn’t need a man, I know,” Lucas finished, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “But seriously, how’s it going?”
Emily’s eyes lit up, unable to contain her excitement. “I just closed my seventh sale of the night. The gallery staff are practically ready to build a shrine in my honor.”
“Damn, Em. You’re on fire tonight,” Lucas said, genuine pride colouring his words.
As he spoke, Emily couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly Lucas fit into this world-her world. His tailored suit, matching her dress perfectly, made him look like he belonged among the art world elite. Yet there was still that unmistakable aura of danger, of barely contained power, that made her pulse quicken.
“What can I say? I’m just that good,” she teased, taking a sip of her champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose, adding to the giddy feeling coursing through her veins. Success, champagne, and Lucas’ arms around her-it was a heady combination.
Lucas leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You know what else you’re good at?”
Emily felt a delicious shiver run down her spine. “Mm, why don’t you enlighten me?” she purred, her free hand coming to rest on his chest.
Just as Lucas opened his mouth to reply, a polite cough interrupted them. Emily turned to see one of the gallery owners hovering nearby, an apologetic smile on his face.
“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Ms. Carter, but there’s a potential buyer who’s very interested in speaking with you about the Harlow piece.”
Emily nodded, slipping smoothly back into professional mode. She turned back to Lucas, a hint of regret in her eyes. “Duty calls.”
Lucas released her with a small sigh. “Go get ’em, tiger. But don’t forget-” he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “we’re not done here.”
As Emily walked away, her heart racing and a flush creeping up her cheeks, she couldn’t help but think that closing this next sale might be the quickest one yet. After all, she had some unfinished business to attend to.
Emily strode towards the Harlow piece, her heels clicking purposefully against the polished floor. As she approached, her heart sank. The “interested buyer” was none other than Ryan.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered under her breath. Plastering on a professional smile, she closed the distance. “Ryan. What a surprise. Are you actually interested in the painting, or is this just another one of your games?”
Ryan’s blue eyes met hers, a hint of remorse flickering in their depths. “Emily, I-I needed to apologise. I didn’t know how else to find you.”
She crossed her arms, her jaw clenching. “And crashing my work event seemed like the best option? Christ, Ryan, you always did have impeccable timing.”
“Look, I know I fucked up. Royally.” He ran a hand through his meticulously styled hair. “Can we just talk?”
Emily glanced around the gallery, acutely aware of the curious glances being thrown their way. “This really isn’t the time or place. I’m working, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
Ryan nodded, looking uncharacteristically chastened. “Fair enough. How about brunch tomorrow? You, me, and dad. I’d like to clear the air with both of you.”
Emily hesitated, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to tell Ryan to go to hell, but another part-the part that remembered the good times, the part that knew how much this could mean for Lucas-made her pause.
“Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “For Lucas’ sake. But I swear to God, Ryan, if this is some kind of trick-”
“It’s not,” he interrupted, holding up his hands. “I promise. I just want to make things right.”
As Ryan walked away, Emily let out a shaky breath. What the hell had she just agreed to?