Christian
Far be it from my sister to just have a simple birthday party. She was turning 28 and by the look of her house, you'd think it was the royal wedding.
Enormous garlands of flowers, shimmering lights, and glittering banners hung from the massive house, full with a red carpet trailing up the stone staircases that rounded the fountain that was lit up like a billboard. The entire event was shiny and ostentatious, just like my sister liked it.
Bella wasn't conceited; I knew my sister donated tons of money all the time and constantly arranged charity events I'd been dragged to more than a few times in which she raised money for all kinds of foundations, especially cancer and child abuse. But, if anyone knew how to throw a party, it was her as well. She was a people person, a magnet for attention, and while Ariadne cowered from it, and I could fake comfort well enough, Bella owned it like a queen. I loved her for it.
Of course, Bella's party was a suit and tie event. I came straight from work, stopping at home to change briefly before I pulled up to the Duval residence. Damon and Robyn's cars were parked in the front already and people were streaming in and out of the house, clutching flutes of champagne as bowtie clad waiters walked around with platters of blini with caviar and grilled prosciutto-wrapped figs with blue cheese and pecans.
I rolled my eyes as I stepped out of my car and shut the door behind me. As I breezed through the doors, the room visibly stopped moving for a split second. I tried hard not to notice.
Did people not expect to see me at my own sister's birthday party?
Eyes were trained on me as if I stood in the middle of the room naked. Adjusting my cufflinks, I checked that everything was in place. Yep. Five-thousand-dollar Bella Ryder approved Brioni suit fully intact.
Paying no attention to anyone at all, I made my way straight to the bar for a drink, knowing I would find Francis there because he hated people and parties. Unfortunately, he was married to the biggest social butterfly in the East Coast.
The chatter quickly resumed, just as I noticed my best friend had an Old Fashioned already waiting for me at the bar.
"How'd you know I was here?" I asked, grabbing the tumbler and taking a desperate, prolonged sip.
He eyed me like I was an idiot. Francis knew everything. "I saw a couple women drop their underwear and realized you'd arrived," he drawled.
"You kiss my sister with that mouth?"
"My wife," he corrected with a self satisfied smirk.
Ignoring his comment, I threw the entire glass back in one gulp.
"Rough day?" Damon's voice said from behind me as he clapped my shoulder and shrugged past me to pour himself a drink as well. How the three of us—arguably the most unsocial people ever—ended up at Manhattan's social event of the year was beyond me.
"Always," I said nonchalantly. "Where's the birthday girl?"
"In the living room, last time I saw her."
My journey to said living room was punctuated frequently, making mundane conversation and passing curt greetings as if I knew anyone around. Women with fake smiles and faker breasts pushed up against me, batting their long eyelashes and pouting their lips. In turn, I responded to all of it calmly, the uninterested manner I normally dished out on autopilot.
When I finally got to the living room, I actually stopped in my tracks. My sisters were standing by the fireplace in elegant gowns, shining brighter than anyone else in the room.
And yet, my gaze was drawn to the same dazzling beauty I knew all my life, who was stealing all the goddamn attention and not even realizing it.
Clad in a dark red backless gown that hung close to her body, Robyn stood with her hands clasped in front of her. Her hair fell down her back in big soft curls, not half up like she normally did. Everything about her face was astonishingly regal.
Her blue eyes shone painfully bright, full red lips that were begging to be nibbled and kissed. Deep pink tones reached her cheeks. She threw her head back in laughter, turning slightly toward me.
I was drawn to the low cut of the front of her dress, all the way down to the slit that bared her legs. Toned, bronze, velvety smooth.
But most of all, the soft dusting of freckles on her cheeks were on full display. She didn't try to cover them up tonight. No matter where she was or what she was doing, she kept her promise. I liked that.
I liked it a lot.
I would give up my company, my money, and the lifetime of tailored suits just to indulge the idea of a normal life. With her.
The little artist's picture of her life didn't include a man like me.
But fuck, I wished she'd try to paint me in.
Robyn
Bella cried when I gave her her birthday gift.
To be fair, she always cried. But she clutched the canvas like it held the answer to life. Reyna, who was now sound asleep upstairs, told me she loved it too, before slapping a sloppy wet kiss onto my cheek.
Even Francis' eyes glimmered when he looked at it, before ruffling the hair I took an hour to perfect. But I couldn't be mad at him when he pulled me into a hug and whispered, "Merci. Je t'aime." I knew how rarely he said those words, so I beamed, kissed his cheek and embraced him like my life depended on it.
Now, a couple hours later, I was dancing the line between tipsy and drunk as Ariadne shoved more drinks my way because she couldn't drink anymore.
"At least one of us should be drunk," she grumbled.
I laughed, placing a hand on her pregnant belly. "It'll be so worth it."
She smiled. "Do you want kids someday?"
The sip in my mouth turned sour. "Someday."
Ariadne placed her hand over mine. "You'll find your person. I know you will."
When I looked at her, it was so clear she already knew who the answer was. But I was entirely too scared to push it further.
Thankfully, I was saved from any further interrogation because Bella shrieked and nearly dropped her glass as she ran off to greet someone. When I turned to see who it was, I understood her reaction perfectly.
Christian stood in all his aristocratic beauty, his fingers curled around a tumbler, the other placed firmly in his pocket with a small smile on his face. For the past ten years at least, I had seen this man walk in and out of rooms wearing suits and tuxes and every single time, it took my breath away.
I allowed myself three seconds to ogle as he wrapped his arms around his sister and kissed the crown of her head, wishing her a happy birthday. When four seconds passed, he was walking over to me. His gaze turned from cold to softer in a moment, thawing the icy barriers he put up for the world.
"Hi," I choked, trying very hard to focus on producing real words.
"Hi," Christian all but purred.
I eyed him carefully for a split second, happy to see a bit of the person I used to know. The fun-loving, hell-raising, spitfire boy before the cold, detached, man replaced him. He was coming back to me more and more in the last few weeks but something about being in public made me think he would revert back to putting on the façade he adopted for the world.
"You look beautiful," he said with sincerity.
A blush rose to my cheeks. I only realized I hadn't spoken when he pressed his index finger to the bottom of my chin and tilted my head up to meet his smoldering gaze.
My knees buckled.
My skin buzzed.
My heart raced.
"I heard you gave Bella the present of a century." His voice was low and authoritative.
"I don't know about that," I whispered hoarsely. "I painted Francis and Reyna."
"I'd like to see it."
When I didn't nod or honestly even blink, he simply smiled and removed his finger from my face. Stepping backwards, he pressed his hand on my bare lower back, sending a jolt of lust through my body that descended straight between my legs.
"Lead the way," he whispered into my hair.
Avoiding the watchful predator eyes of the entire room with a Herculean effort, I summoned the strength to stand on my own two feet, drugged by his touch alone.
We walked through the crowd as everyone continued to stare at him and my face was almost certainly as red as my dress. When I stumbled rounding a corner, he wrapped an arm around my waist, not letting go until we reached Bella's marble corridor. It was blissfully empty.
I staggered to the painting, shaking off his touch, and faced it. Christian stood carefully behind me, the warmth of his body still radiating onto mine. Minutes that felt like hours passed before he spoke.
"It's incredible," he murmured. "Truly."
"Thank you."
"You don't normally do portraits," he stated.
I closed my eyes. He remembered?
I cleared my throat, eyes still shut. "I wanted to give Bella something personal for her birthday, so I tried something new. Something special."
He stepped closer to me. My breath hitched. He was still behind me, the fabric of his expensive suit brushing against my back and the length of my arm. The woody scent of his cologne travelled through the air. I inhaled it greedily–the scent that I knew all too well and the one that still made my insides clench.
"Special?" He asked.
"Yes," I breathed.
"I don't know when the last time I told you this was, but you have a gift, Robyn Hale. Your work astounds me. You astound me."
My eyes opened up and stared at the painting in front of us. I felt the tip of his nose in my hair, every nerve in my body fired up and sizzling under my skin.
"Grazie mille," I whispered hoarsely.
"Would you ever paint me?"
"I did... once." The painting of Christian and I on my rooftop—the one he'd kept in his apartment all these years after buying it at my grand opening.
"That could have been anyone," he argued.
I chuckled because in my eyes, it really couldn't have been anyone but us. "What would you like me to paint, Christian?"
"You gave Damon and Ariadne a portrait of the two of them for their wedding present. Francis and Bella got one for theirs. And now Francis and Reyna have one too."
"When you get married, I'll make one for you and your wife," I said, quietly. Pushing words out had never been harder.
"And when you get married? Who will paint you?"
A soft laugh escaped me. "Way things are looking for me right now doesn't look like I'm gonna get married."
"Why?"
Because I've been in love with you since before I knew what love was.
"Not sure I'm the kind of girl that interests people long-term. No one wants to keep me." Including you, Christian.
"I think you're wrong," he said with authority, as if it were just fact.
I hummed, groping in the dark for a change of conversation but he didn't seem to want that because he kept going.
"You have a smile that lights up planets. You have eyes that make people forget the world around them. You have a heart that beats for others, for good, for love. You have that raw kindness, that raw sweetness about you that makes you so irreplaceable. There is absolutely no one like you."
My heart was beating so unsteadily in my chest I thought I was going to topple over.
"The sun goes down at night because it knows you shine bright enough to keep the world running while it rests."
Dio mio. I didn't know what to say. What did anyone say to that?
"You have always made me feel so special," I whispered.
"How do you not see that you are? How do you not see that if the entire world collapsed around me and you were still standing there, I wouldn't give a damn. How do you not see that if anything in this world is special, it is you and only you?"
Why did Christian Ryder say the sweetest things? Why did he make me feel this way when he'd already proven he didn't want me?
"Thank you for being my best friend," I said.
"Thank you for allowing me to."
"I promise I'll paint you, if that's what you want. Or I'll paint something for you."
Christian bristled. "And if I don't get married? Will you still paint me?"
"You don't want to get married?"
He didn't say anything for a minute. "You get married to people you love and those who love you back, right?"
I'd said those words to Reyna not too long ago. I nodded.
"I'm not sure if I'm loved back, Robyn."
Tears stung my eyes. As much as I could try to blame my wobbly legs, I knew I wanted to lean back into his touch. So, I did. My entire back felt electrified, pressing against his iron-steel chest. Every part of him was muscled, defined, and perfect.
I was surprised, however, when he let me. He didn't pull away or hold me. Just stood there.
Somehow, it felt more comforting than anything I had ever experienced in my entire life.
"But," he said, his lips brushing against the top of my ear and skimming down. "Maybe there's always people who are meant to be. I just have to wait until it's my time."
My eyes shut again.
My secret burned in my chest.
My throat was as dry as the Sahara when I whispered, "Yeah?"
"Who knows? Maybe I'll find my happiness, Robyn."
"With every bone in my body, I hope you do, cuore mio."