“That sounds wonderful, Mr. Moseley. I am very pleased that you are on board, as there’s no greater company than a man who appreciates when not to take things too seriously. Yes, yes, please come.” Another laugh, another burst of animation. “All right.”
An ache started that baffled her, then made her restless. That restlessness manifested itself into Alexa’s fingers furiously flying through the fourth page, where she captured him mid-laughter. Her stomach tightened when she began fingering his mouth. Still, it was the lower, flirtier tone of voice that sent a bolt of electricity straight to her soul.
“I promise you that I will do my best. Yes, tomorrow sounds great. What about…Alexa?”
The last part was mouthed. She waved, then spoke in a whisper.
“I got my fill, and I have work early tomorrow. I will return.” She left before he could end the call.
The next few days became busy with overtimes and Archie with a vow at the back of her mind not to return…except she did on the fourth day. She was ushered in as if he was expecting her. Then her focus landed on the array of better painting options and the canvas in a corner facing the wall. Her canvas.
“Sorry. Busy,” he said before joining a video meeting and listening to the speaker.
She sat and checked her half-finished work, then gobbled up his next laugh without shame. She captured the tilt of his lips but reluctantly blurred parts of his eyes. She did not want to reveal all of him to whatever museum this painting landed in.
“Sarah, can you kindly close the blinds and keep visitors out for my next series of meetings? It’s important that I’m uninterrupted.”
Alexa looked up, startled to find that he had already stripped his shirt. “What?” she mouthed.
“You can talk. I hung up, and my secretary will follow my instructions.” He winked. “Finish your painting.”
He hopped on a spare table and assumed the same pose, bringing his laptop and typing away. Dumbfounded, she ogled his form before she scrambled with the brush, biting her lip to keep from requesting him to unbutton his slacks. Alexa made do with what she had.
“All good?” he asked when she had started filling in his toes.
“Yeah.”
His nipples puckered at the cold. His body glistened with sweat despite that cold when one particular phone call came in, tensing him up until muscles were hardened and his jaw was clenched. Whatever it was had conflict swirling on his face before a fist came down, which did a long way in erasing that conflict. His voice was light when he answered.
“I understand. Some things just can’t be helped, I’m afraid…Father, don’t. Listen to me.”
She finished the painting. At the same time, the name registered and had her looking at him, but he was no longer looking in her direction and was no longer on the table. Hushed tones followed until discomfort flitted in that she was intruding on his privacy, so she snuck out—and was faced with an older woman and her disapproving frown.
“Sarah?” she guessed.
The woman struggled with words, then nodded. Unsure, Alexa nodded back and continued walking but was stopped when Sarah finally murmured.
“He’s not the bad guy.”
She whirled to face the woman, puzzled.
“I’m sorry?”
“You come in here looking like you want to prove something and act like the others who already have an opinion formed about him. You also have an uncanny resemblance to that young man who was scouting this area months ago to spy on Mr. Wilder and whatever sinister thing that man thinks he does.”
Billy. “Sinister?”
The secretary’s chin jutted out. “Everyone thinks he’s sinister for working too much and speculates that it’s a cover-up. No one sees that he’s trying to keep his family’s reputation afloat and sacrificing his happiness for it.”
Stupefaction hit Alexa hard. “That’s…”
“Even his father doesn’t see it,” Sarah cut in. “His family thinks he’s too soft when the man is doing most of the company deals without the title. He doesn’t want the title. He just wants his family safe from all the gossip and speculation after that fallout.”
Hastings. Alexa was still reeling, but she shoved down the feeling of getting slapped in the face and tried to see it from the woman’s perspective. The woman had graying hair, was very composed, and looked like she could be Edmund’s mother or aunt. Realization slammed that perhaps Edmund had grown up being surrounded by office employees more than his family.
Her chest squeezed. She tried not to show it and tried very hard to maintain her calm as she surveyed the woman named Sarah.
“You know, you are not supposed to reveal all these things to a stranger.”