Thankfully, there is a crowd around Irving Seymour, and even though Hadrian pushes his way to the front of the circle, I imagine I’ll have a minute to get myself together while conversation wraps up.
Except I’m wrong.
“There you are, Hadrian.” Irving talks over the man at his side who does not look like he has a family resemblance. “I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to see you today. Though, if this breathtaking lady is the reason you’ve been preoccupied, I should let you get back to her.”
Goddammit, I’m blushing again.
“Sorry, Grandpa.” Hadrian leans in to hug the nonagenarian. “I was caught up in the show. I wasn’t familiar with Anita Sendari’s work until today. Incredible eye. Nice choice.”
Irving waves a dismissive hand. “Henry picked her this year. An admirable artist, but your grandmother would have complained after the first three pieces. Don’t tell Anita Sendari.”
It’s pretty much what Hadrian had said, and never mind that I know very little about the rest of the Seymours, it seems more likely that Hadrian is the miniature Irving, especially being the CEO of SNC at such a young age.
“She’s getting a scholarship for being chosen. She should be happy enough with that.”
I follow the sound of the voice to see Hunter, the Seymour I’d met at the awards show who had reduced my career to local journalism. While Hadrian has yet to acknowledge him, I feel a very definite wall of tension between the cousins.
“There’s more to life than money, Hunter,” Irving says, not unkindly. “But there’s also more to life than acclaim. Hopefully the woman has other things to fill her.” He turns his attention back to Hadrian. “Was there anything you enjoyed about the exhibition?”
“The church images were particularly haunting, and the empty images of Times Square.”
Irving nods, agreeing. “The Times Square pics got me in the gut. Never seen anything like that. Wonder how she got the place cleared out like that.” We’ve yet to be introduced, when he focuses his attention on me. “How about you, Hadrian’s young lady? You can learn a lot about a person by the art that attracts them. Which did you like?”
My mouth feels like a dessert. It’s dry and empty, and I have no idea how to respond. On the one hand, it feels critical to explain that I am not Hadrian’s young lady, especially since I’m a married woman. On the other hand, how the hell am I supposed to correct Irving fucking Seymour?
In a rare show of character, Hadrian comes to my rescue. “This is Brystin Shaw, Grandpa. She’s one of SNC’s anchors.”
Irving looks to his grandson as if he’s been rudely interrupted. “She’s one of our anchors—fantastic. Where else would you meet someone? Doesn’t mean she can’t have an opinion on art.” He takes my hand in his. “Tell me, Brystin Shaw, what did you like?”
Despite his age, the man seems outwardly gruff, but with his hand in mine, I’m suddenly certain that he’s got a cinnamon roll inside. I lose all desire to correct him about my relationship with his grandson. “The swimming pool,” I say. “Definitely the swimming pool.”
“Truly lonely. Can’t win if there’s no competition.” He squeezes my hand, and I’m so sure it was the right thing to say, that I say more.
“Though, there’s more to life than winning.”
“There is more to life than winning. Do you hear this, boys? This woman knows what she’s talking about.”
Hadrian puts his arm on my back again, like it belongs there. “Brystin is going to be the next star of SNC, Grandpa. I have something special planned for her.”
I feel the negativity roll off Hunter and the man standing next to him—the one that I’m pretty sure isn’t family. Ax, maybe?
Irving must feel it too, but all he has to do is toss a glare in the men’s direction, and both seem to withdraw.
He directs his attention back to me. “She’s already something special, Hadrian. Try not to fuck that up in the process of whatever you have planned.”
Despite the warning words, I can’t help but think he’s given his blessing. Especially considering how agitated Hunter and Ax are with the declaration.
“Thank you, Grandpa. I’ll keep that in mind.” Hadrian gives the man another hug, longer this time, and even though it’s quiet, I hear what he says while they’re embracing. “Happy Birthday to our lady. I miss her, and I know you do too.”
“We all do,” Irving says after they’ve come apart. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Shaw. Can’t wait to see your face on the screen. Now I need a nap.”
If it wasn’t clear that talking with Irving was the climax of the day’s event, there’s no doubt when Hadrian leads me from his grandfather straight to a hidden elevator.
Wish I’d known about this option earlier. Would have been a whole lot nicer than dealing with all the whispers as we’d climbed the stairs, but I resist saying as such since I’m pretty sure that Hadrian wasn’t bothered by the talk.
Besides, once we’re alone—and in an elevator, no less—all the heat and foreplay from the day comes rushing back through me, as though my libido is on some sort of switch. A switch that Hadrian controls with just a look. The kind of look that he gives me as we ascend to the lower level.
The kind of look that says, I’ve seen you without your panties on.
I swallow, excited to find out what happens next. Afraid I’m not ready for it. In an attempt to distract myself, I let my thoughts settle back on the scene with Irving, and something suddenly clicks in place. “That was a power play.”
Hadrian raises a brow. “A power play?”
It wasn’t a denial, and somehow that makes me more confident. “Everyone fighting for your grandfather’s approval—you wanted his approval of me. Didn’t you?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls out his phone, and my heart rate spikes, thinking he might be ready to go back to discussing my pussy pic.
But all he does is type out a text then pockets it again.
Then the door opens on the first floor. No elevator emergency this time, which should be a good thing, except that now he’s escorting me out of the elevator and down a back hallway that leads out of the gallery.
Then silently, he takes me through another hallway that ends in the parking garage, where his car is waiting. Upon sight of us, the driver gets out of the car, which I suppose is to let Hadrian in his place.
Until he opens the back door, and waits.
I’m about to ask what the plan is when Hadrian finally talks. “Hunter,” he pauses, and I think he’s going to explain who he is.
But since I already know, I help him out. “I know he is. Your cousin, right?”
“Cousin. Yes. I prefer that.” He doesn’t try to clear up the confusion he’s created. “He believes he’d be better at my job than I am.”
I consider that. “Does that matter?” I try to remember what I know about how his position was passed to him. “Your father named you as his successor after his heart attack. Could you be kicked out?”
“If Hunter convinces enough of the board to oust me, then yes, it’s possible.”
“Is it likely?” My stomach feels twisted in knots about the potential of Hadrian losing his job. For no other reason than that I think he cares about it. I don’t have a lot of evidence of the fact, but since he went against his inner circle to report the story with King-Kincaid, I think it has to be true. He has to care about the job more than the people around him, anyway.
He mistakes my genuine concern for him as something else. “Don’t worry, Ms. Shaw. We’ll get your contract signed, and then you’ll have the job no matter who’s at the helm.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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