I pick up the train of my red gown, rushing down the hallway of the gallery exhibit. The guests are piling into our preview night. While the museum structure is still incomplete, over the past few weeks we've acquired pieces for our preview- a snapshot night of what the museum will be like.
We've set the preview in a large, glass building in the heart of Chicago. The fixtures hung above me are large and coated in crystals. The various paintings are on each side of me, transforming the room into a serene delve into history.
My nerves are twisting and turning as I hurry over the white floors, headed for the main room. Andre informed me coming in that Tristan needed to see me immediately. I push open the doors and come to a full halt.
"Oh my God."
Tristan is standing at the far corner of the room, dressed in a black and white classic tux. And beside him is Monet's Le bassin aux nymphéas, the painting I had hung in my old office- it's now in our apartment. Something about this version of it has my hands beginning to shake.
My feet shuffle forward in the heels that have suddenly become hard to walk in. My eyes scan over it, taking in the colorful hues. Heart pounding, I stop before it, tearing my eyes away to look up at Tristan.
"Is- is it-" My speech fails.
I nod. "Yes."
"Yes, it is the original."
"Oh my God," I repeat, gasping. It's more beautiful than I could have imagined. Out of all Monet painting's this is the hardest to find. "Do you know how hard it is to get this? It sold for 80 million a couple years ago!"
I tear my eyes away from it, feeling a mixture of shock and utter awe as he looks down at me, an amused smile on his face.
A cry of joy escapes my lips as I jump up and down towards him, embracing him tightly. "I can't even believe it. I can't believe you got this!"
"It's yours," he whispers, pressing his lips to my temple.
"Thank you, Tristan, Thank you so much... I'm totally freaking out right now." I pull back and show him my trembling hands, laughing breathlessly. He lifts them and presses his lips to each one.
"I mean to make them do that forever."
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as he wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me in. I tilt my head up, unable to stop smiling even when he presses his lips to mine. My fingers smooth against his tuxedo, clutching the fabric tightly, holding him to me.
"I'm so fucking crazy for you," I utter, breaking away from his kiss with a gasp. His lips graze mine once more, his eyes scorching before they trail onto my cheek. I feel his teeth graze the soft corner of my jaw and shiver, unable to stop my mouth from gaping open, consumed by the pleasure.
His hand travels into my blonde locks, grasping a handful of it tightly. I moan as he tilts my head to the side, trailing his tongue down my neck.
His other hand settles against my backside, pulling into his erection.
The sound of the classical music that the orchestra begins to play in the main hallway has my eyes opening wide within seconds. Tristan's breath is warm against my neck as he chuckles.
"Damn," I mutter as he pulls back, letting go of my hair. I giggle as he tries to smooth it back into place. "You've got me all flustered," I joke, wiping my lipstick off of his mouth.
YOU ARE READING
What do you do when disaster strikes? You survive. On the night before her entire life changes, Genevieve Harding was walking along the shoreline with a man she'd only just met. Tristan Maddox. A man who grazed the pages of the magazines and newspa...