“I don’t know what you mean.”
If my gaze could kill, that’s what it would do. Have him drop dead right then and there in the art gallery. As it stands, it doesn’t seem to harm a hair on his head. He just watches the blue swirls ofCharitywith his hands behind his back.
“Is this about last night? What I told you about the man Nadine wants to set me up with?”
“I think I’ll put in an offer for this one,” he says. “It would go well with the colors in the gym.”
“Your home gym has no color.”
“Exactly.” He turns and strides on, and I’m forced to catch up with him. Still angry, because he might pretend otherwise, but we both know exactly why he’d come on as strong as he had.
He’d kissed me.
My temple, and only briefly, but still.
And it was not something we’d agreed upon beforehand.
“Victor,” I say. “If you think I’ll be happy to be—”
“Mr. St. Clair,” a man interrupts. “And this, of course, has to be the new Mrs. St. Clair?”
“Yes,” Victor says and there’s his arm again, sliding around my waist with no thought to his self-preservation. “Good to see you here, Hadley.”
“Likewise.” The man gives me a hesitant smile. He’s middle-aged, a camera in hand. “Mind if I take a picture of the two of you in front of the, uh, painting here?”
“Not at all,” Victor says, turning to me. “Hadley works at thePost.”
I put on my widest smile, because Victor or no Victor, we’re doing this for Nadine. The camera flashes and I step away from him as soon as Hadley lowers it.
“What do you think of the art?” I ask Hadley. “Don’t you just love the colors?”
That launches an hour of networking so intense, I have no chance to tell Victor off about his domineering. In my mind, all I can hear is the sound of his bedroom door, slamming at night, as he disappears out of his apartment.
But he has the nerve to kiss my temple, or to react like he did last night, when I mentioned flirting.
I give Nadine a massive hug when I see her. She thanks Victor in an earnest tone, but then she’s gone again, swept away in the tide of visitors. Tonight is her time to shine, and everyone wants a piece of her.
We’re alone in front ofTemperancewhen I get my shot. “That wasn’t fair, what you did back there. Or the way you reacted last night.”
Victor turns flat, blue eyes my way. “Elaborate.”
“We never agreed to be celibate or monogamous.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Yes, I bet you are,” I say. “But that cuts both ways, dear husband.”
“I’m aware,” he repeats, eyes narrowing. “But that doesn’t mean you can flirt in a room full of people who belong to New York’s art elite, many with cameras and here to report. Think of how that would look.”
“I was having a conversation.”
“With someone whose closet you’re already planning to organize,” Victor says, his voice dropping low with anger. “Or was that not him? Are you still waiting to be set up with your Prince Charming?”
“I’m not being set up with anyone. It was a dumb suggestion and one I shouldn’t have mentioned to you, clearly. But that’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point, Cecilia? Explain it to me.”
I step closer, eyes darting to the couple by our side. I don’t want to be overheard. “You spend several nights away every single week. I’ve told you I know about it before, and you didn’t deny it. Why is it okay for you to be involved with someone but not for me? It’s not as if a single conversation with someone here would make front-page news. Your fragile masculinity would remain intact, I’m sure.”