Page 13 of Protecting The Gray Wolf
Tony had to be with a customer or he’d be back here interrogating her. Grateful to whoever was keeping him occupied, she grabbed an invoice and matched it to a painting. Once she’d triple-checked, she began to wrap it for transport. The familiar task soothed her jagged nerves.
She should be furious at Kade’s highhandedness. How dare he come into her place of business, invade her personal space as if he had every right to do so, and leave her unsettled. They’d only met last evening. The dream didn’t count, wasn’t real. Reality was work and her art, not some handsome stranger who’d bought one of her paintings. She’d set him straight when she met him this evening.
Oh God, she was meeting him for dinner.It’s not a date, she reminded herself. It was business, the potential for another major sale. It was the only reason she’d agreed to meet with him.Liar, the little voice in the back of her head taunted. It wasn’t smart to get involved with a man like Kade. He wasn’therwolf, but he was a wolf of a different kind—powerful, rich, and used to getting his way.
Look at her. Even though she knew it wasn’t wise, that Chelsea would be furious if she found out, Luna was going to meet the man for dinner. “It’s a professional relationship,” she reminded herself as she placed the finished, labeled package aside and started on another. That’s all it could be. He didn’t live in New York. Beyond that, she didn’t do one-night stands or affairs—that was Chelsea’s thing.
If she was smart and kept things impersonal, the potential was there to sell another painting. Maybe make future contacts. A man who dropped twenty grand on a whim had to know other people, some of whom might be drawn to her work. It was a win/win situation. Why, then, was the idea of keeping things impersonal so depressing?
It was the damn dream’s fault. It generated emotions that had no basis in reality. Okay, so the brief kiss they’d shared was real, but when she thought about it rationally, it wasn’t a big deal. Lots of clients, especially European ones, greeted her in such a fashion. Usually, it was a peck on the cheek, but the difference didn’t signify.
She was still trying to rationalize the situation when Tony strode in. “Well?”
“Well, what?” She measured out packing material for the next painting, hoping if she kept on working it would discourage him. He strode across the space, grabbed her, and yanked her around. “Hey!” She pulled her arm from his grasp. “What’s wrong with you?” He’d been emotionally abusive, but he’d never physically touched her before.
“Don’t play games. What was the client doing here?”
She resisted the urge to rub the abused area. It would be another bruise to add to the collection she was racking up today. “He wanted the painting he bought last night. I wasn’t inclined to tell him he couldn’t have it,” she snapped.
His gaze narrowed and the lines in his brow deepened. “That’s all there is to it?”
“What business is it of yours?” It was past time she stopped allowing him to bully her and stood up to him. “Touch me again and you’ll regret it.” She wasn’t an advocate of violence, but she wasn’t about to allow him to abuse her. She’d either file a police report or kick his balls into his throat. The second had more appeal, but the first option would hurt worse in the long run. As it was, she’d be sure to take pictures to document the injury.
Staring at her as if he’d never seen her before, he shook his head. “Chelsea will be interested.”
“So run and tell her like you do with everything else. A client came in and wanted his purchase. Should I have told him no? I’m sure that would have thrilled her.” Deciding she needed a break before either of them said or did something there was no taking back, she retrieved her purse and headed toward the front of the gallery.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tony was hot on her heels.
“Out to grab a coffee and something to eat. I missed breakfast.” Before she made it to the door, it opened, and Chelsea sailed in, interrupting their heated discussion.
“Good morning, darlings.” Bright and cheerful in a cherry-red dress and high-heeled sandals, she had a white clutch tucked under her arm. Multicolored Bakelite bangles covered one wrist. A chunky necklace of the same material adorned her neck. She wasn’t alone, which was the only reason Tony held his tongue. He’d spill everything to her later, Luna had no doubt.
All the fine hairs on Luna’s body rose in warning. The newcomer was gorgeous. It was almost impossible to pin down her age. Could be anywhere from thirty to fifty. Her gold-toned skin was flawless, not a wrinkle or blemish to be seen. Her flaming-red hair was upswept in a classic chignon. She wore a vibrant blue suit that clung to her curves and matching Manolo Blahnik’s with bejeweled buckles. A gold Patek Philippe watch circled one wrist. Diamond earrings—at least two carats each—adorned her ears. Wrapped around her neck was an exquisite ruby pendant. The primal urge to run was strong.
The attention of most people who entered the gallery was drawn to the artwork. The woman ignored it and stared at Luna for several seconds. Then she smiled. The expression was one a shark would give a minnow before it devoured it.
Stomach in knots, she drew on her ability to compartmentalize her emotions. Slamming the door shut on her nerves, she sent them both a polite nod. “Good morning.”
The smile deepened as if Luna had passed some sort of test. “Is this her?”
The bangles on Chelsea’s wrist clattered as she lifted her hand and waved in Luna’s direction. “This is Luna West.”
The woman was here to meet her? An inner warning bell clanged long and loud. Whoever this woman was, she was a predator. For whatever reason, she’d set her sights on Luna. If she’d learned anything in her obsession with wolves, it was that you never ran from a predator. That made you prey.
When the woman didn’t speak, her boss cleared her throat. “This, my dear, is Solange Dupree. She’s an important patron of the arts. She’s interested in your little wolf painting. Isn’t that amusing?” Her laugh was strained.
Chelsea was one of the toughest women she’d ever met, and Solange made her nervous. It wasn’t because of her wealth. Her boss routinely dealt with influential men and women from both the business and political worlds.
Luna tilted her head to one side, giving the woman a second look, trying to see beyond the expensive exterior. “I’m sorry. You have me at a disadvantage. Have we met before?” Surprised to find her palms dry instead of damp, she reached out to take the extended hand.
“No, my dear.” Long, slender fingers with manicured nails done in a shade to match her outfit closed around hers. The second their skin touched, a shock jolted her.
“Ouch.” Drawing back her hand, she shook it. “Static electricity.”
“Quite all right. It happens.” There was something almost smug about her smile that put Luna on edge.
“Does it?”
