Black Ties and White Lies(107)

“What do you notice about the architecture?”

“It’s a mix of different styles. It’s modern with the glass, but still very classic and traditional with the lines of the building.” I smile bashfully as he remains quiet next to me. “I’m probably not making any sense. I just meant I love the fact that it’s like you can’t put the building in one category. It stands out next to everything else here in Manhattan. I love it.”

When I get the nerve to look over at Camden, I find him watching me with a quirked eyebrow. “You’re the first person to ever really get my vision for it.” He turns to look at the building in front of him. The way he stares at it so proudly warms my heart. One day I hope to look at my own art in a gallery the same way he looks at the gallery that houses all the art.

“Well, the first person to get it without me having to explain it to them first,” he adds.

I turn to face him, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I’m honored. But I think it’s cool that people could also get other vibes from it. That’s the whole idea of art, right? It’s subjective. Art is in the eye of the beholder and all…”

His eyes flick to the bag on my arm. Or more specifically, the rolls of my own artwork that peek out of it. “Let me guess, you’re an artist.”

I shrug. At least it seems like he hasn’t caught on that I’m the fiancée to his best friend. Or if he had caught on, he hasn’t let it slip. “It’s the beanie that gives it away, isn’t it?”

He lets out the smallest of laughs. It’s quiet but confident. “Definitely the beanie.”

“Does your art suck?”

I’m taken aback by the bluntness of his words. I fumble with my words for a moment before I get out something coherent. “I’d like to think it doesn’t.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What is it about you?”

“I uh…”

He talks over me, clearly not actually wanting an answer to his question. “Never do I stop and talk to anyone. Small talk gives me hives. But something about the way you looked at the building had me stopping.”

His head tilts to the side as he looks over my shoulder to the transport tube I have with one of my pieces in it. “Do you have your work with you?”

“Yes,” I rush out, maybe a little too eagerly.

Camden takes a step toward the building. “I’ve got a private client meeting in an hour. You can show me your work. If it sucks, I’ll tell you, so if you aren’t up for criticism, turn around now.”

All I do is nod.

And just like that, I have my in. I almost blow it because it takes me a few long, drawn out seconds to come up with a response.

Is this really happening?

Finally, I nod my head enthusiastically, almost tripping over my feet in the process. “I’d love that,” I say hurriedly.

“Don’t ever tell anyone about this,” he barks, heading towards the building. “The last thing I want is for people to show up and bother me.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond. His long legs have him already a good amount ahead of me. I scurry after him, not wanting to miss my chance.

Camden Hunter is about to look at my work.

Holy. Shit. Balls.





I step out of the rental car, pressing my phone to my ear as I look up at the building in front of me. “How’s she doing?”

Ezra sighs on the other line. “Not great, Mr. Sinclair. She’s out for a walk right now, but she isn’t herself.”

“She’s walking alone?”

“You’d think I’d let her roam alone?” he asks, his tone offended. “No, I’ve followed her. She just doesn’t know it.”

I let out a hum of approval. “Thanks, Ezra. I appreciate it.”

“Want to talk about what happened?”

I scoff, shielding my eyes from the California sun. “Absolutely not.”

“Understood,” he clips. “Is there a reason Miss Moretti is talking to your friend Camden?”

I smile, despite how hollow I feel inside. That’s my girl. It doesn’t shock me that she’d use this time away from me to follow her dreams. There’s nothing I want more for her than that. I just hope her dreams still lead back to me. “Because she’s stubborn as hell,” I answer truthfully.

Even if Camden gave her a chance to speak with him as a favor to me, that’d be as far as a favor would go from him. Her work would have to do the talking to keep him interested. It appears she got rid of the middle man—me—and found a way to get Camden’s attention herself.

“Got it. I’ll make sure she makes it back to your place safely, Mr. Sinclair.”

“Thank you, Ezra. I’ll check back in later.”

I end the call and slide the phone into the inner pocket of my suit. My eyes focus on the brick building in front of me. It doesn’t take long for my footsteps to eat the distance from my parking spot to the entrance.

A brunette sits at a large desk. She smiles appreciatively at me. “Welcome to Booth and Associates. How can I help you?”

I give her my most charming smile. “I’m actually here for a meeting. I’m running a few minutes behind so you wouldn’t mind if I rushed back there, would you?”