She leaned forward toward him. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe we could…”

Clay sighed and took his phone out of his pocket, ignoring whatever else she was going to say. He pretended to be engrossed in an urgent text message and held his hand up.

There was no challenge here. He had already fucked this girl and couldn’t even remember her. Why settle for cute when I have fucking hot at home?

With satisfaction, he sent a text out to Andrea.

Hey, baby, I have a game for you.

Redhead was looking at him with a sneer on her face. Guess it wasn’t much of a game if he didn’t put in effort to keep her interested. Fuck, he didn’t feel like caring tonight.

Andrea called a second later, and instead of making an excuse to Redhead, he just walked away to answer.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hello, Mr. Maxwell,” she said crisply. “You have a game for me? I thought we’d decided on no more games.”

“You’re right. No game tonight. Just you.”

“Is that so?”

“Just you, Andrea.”

“Well, I’m at an art gallery at the moment. If you come over, you might get some pussy later.”

“Might?” he asked. A smile broadened his face. He loved when his girl talked dirty to him.

“Don’t you want to come here and find out?”

Chapter 9

CAVEMAN

The goddamn art gallery was on the other side of town.

If Clay hadn’t felt like Andrea’s words were a challenge, he would have said fuck it as soon as he saw the address. She couldn’t have known where he was at the moment, but it was at least forty-five minutes from his office. Thank fuck for Uber drivers!

When he finally exited the Escalade that had driven him across town, he was glad that he hadn’t changed out of his suit from work. Everyone else in the place was dressed to the nines, as if this were a black-tie event. He might actually be underdressed for the occasion, which never happened. He carefully straightened his tie, all the while wondering where Andrea had sent him.

A woman at the door handed him a program. Without looking at it, he promptly discarded it as he passed a table. He wasn’t here for the event. He was here for Andrea.

His eyes traveled the crowded rooms bursting with expensive artwork and snooty artsy types. The walls were perfectly stark white with white columns interspersed in the room. Everything was tasteful and chic. Very modern. Very rich. Money was dripping from the clientele, and he was surprised to find he recognized a few people. This must be very exclusive and prestigious to draw such a crowd. No wonder Andrea was here.

“Clay!” someone called from behind him.

He turned to face the voice and saw that Jamie girl he’d met on New Year’s. She smiled and waved, trotting over to him with a guy behind her.

“Hey! I thought you’d have been here ages ago!” Jamie said.

Clay furrowed his brows. Why?

“Oh, this is my husband, James.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking James’s hand. “Have you seen Andrea?”

“I think she’s in the next room, talking to a collector. She’s sold a ton of work here tonight.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked slowly, not sure what she meant by that.

“Yeah. All of my pieces are gone. She’s brilliant, that one. You’re lucky to have a girlfriend like her. She has quite an eye for artwork and has proven to be a savvy entrepreneur in our art community,” Jamie gushed.

“Indeed,” Clay said.

His head was spinning. From what Jamie had said, it sounded like Andrea wasn’t here to purchase artwork, like normal…but she was running the show? He was really confused by that. He knew that she had said she was involved in selling artwork, but she’d never mentioned that it had gotten to this level.

How did I miss this? Did she just not tell me, or have I been oblivious to her success?

He didn’t even remember her inviting him to this event, let alone telling him that she was hosting it as her own art business.

“Excuse me. I’m going to go look for my girlfriend,” he said with a curt nod.

Jamie and her husband disappeared into the crowd as Clay went in search of Andrea. He found her exactly where Jamie had said she would be, talking to an older woman who was apparently a collector. Andrea had her back to Clay and was gesturing to some piece of art with a few brushstrokes on the canvas. He would hardly consider it art, but he knew Andrea had paid a small fortune for it.

Clay assessed Andrea from afar, glad that she couldn’t see him, as he got his thoughts together. She looked gorgeous from head to toe. Her platinum-blonde hair was slicked back into a French twist, and she had demure pearls dangling from her ears that went perfectly with her tight black dress. Well, it wasn’t too tight. He just had an active imagination. It was perfectly fitting for what she was here for. And the shoes, some four-inch designer heels with red lacquered soles, made her calves and ass look sexy as hell. He wasn’t sure a day would pass when he didn’t find her as beautiful as that first day they’d met on the beach.

Andrea seemed to finish up whatever business she’d been working on and turned, as if sensing his eyes on her. She smiled at the sight of him, and he approached her.

“Well, hello there,” he said.

“Clay,” she said softly, “you made it.”

“No wonder you couldn’t play tonight, if you were busy organizing all of this.” He spread his arms wide and gave her an easy smile. It wasn’t about the game. This was about her. Them.

“I’m really glad you came. I didn’t know if you would,” she admitted. “I honestly thought you’d forgotten the whole thing until I got your text.”

Well, fuck! He was supposed to have known about this already. He couldn’t remember her telling him about it, but he’d been so out of it since the attack that it must have totally slipped his mind. They were both usually really good about being there for each other.

So, he just smiled and said, “This is important to you. Of course I’m here.”

Andrea’s baby blues went lazy and satisfied at his comment. They spoke volumes about what his words meant to her. She slid her hand up his jacket. “Well, I’m glad. Even if you are underdressed.”

He shrugged. “I still look hot.”