✿ Aileen's POV

“I knew I'd find you here.”

I stop rubbing my hands over my arms to distract myself and turn to the owner of the voice.

“Hey” I smile, “What are you doing out here?”

“Looking for my fiancée.”

I chuckle.

“You don't have to call me that, Armani. It's just the two of us out here.”

“So?” he shrugs, “I like calling you that. My fiancée.”

I do my best to drown the warmth that fuels my body, despite how good it feels.

“Now what are you doing out here?” Reid asks, leaning against a wall.

“Nothing” I reply, “I just came out here to get some fresh air and look at the stars.”

He hums.

“Hernan says he saw you speaking with Anika” his voice goes a bit gruff, “Aileen, what happened? What did she say to you?”

“Nothing” I reply, my back still to him.

“Aileen.”

I shut my eyes briefly before opening them and turning to face him.

“You know you can talk to me, Lee. If something happened between you two, I have the right to know. We're a team, remember?”

“I know that, Armani. But I'm serious. Nothing happened.”

“So she didn't say anything to you?”

I shrug again.

“It wasn't anything I couldn't handle.”

“Lee...”

“I mean it, Armani. I didn't let her get to me. I'm perfectly fine” I smile.

“Yet you're hiding out here?”

“I am not hiding” I fold my arms. “I told you. I just came out here for some fresh air and to stargaze.”

He cranes his neck skyward.

“There are no stars, Lee.”

Dang it.

I look up.

“There were a minute ago,” I say, “So it's either it's cloudy or you managed to scare all the stars away with your poor detective work.”

“Shut up” he chuckles and pushes his back off the wall before walking over to join me by the railings.

His hand brushes mine and Reid frowns.

“What the heck, Freshie? Are you aiming to be hypothermic?” he scolds.

I give him a small smile.

“I'm okay, Armani.”

I sleep out on my balcony.

He frowns deeper and shrugs his tux jacket off before stepping closer and draping it around my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

He lets out a sigh and looks at me.

“Why would you be out here for God knows how long without a coat? It’s fucking frigid. And I thought I asked you to stay out in the first place.”

“I got bored.”

“And so you settled to come out here without a coat to die of hypothermia?”

“I'm fine, Armani,” I say softly, touching his arm and watching his frown disappear. “Is it over yet?” I ask, gesturing with my head to the gala inside.

“No” he clears his throat and breaks our eye contact. “But the auction is about to begin so we need to be seated.”

“Can't we just leave?”

“It's the main event, Lee. Plus think of all the money that goes to the community hospitals and the orphanages around.”

“Alright fine. I'll do it for the children” I playfully groan.

Reid laughs.

“Hey, does the money really go to the kids and the community hospitals?” I ask.

He nods.

“Yeah. We make sure of it. Why?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing, just curious” I reply. “And you said your parents started this charity gala?”

He chuckles.

“Well no. My grandma did. My parents just make sure it happens every year.”

I nod.

“Yeah, that sounds more accurate.”

Reid chuckles and offers me his arm.

“C'mon. I saved us the best seat in the house.”

“Sure you did” I tease and walk back inside with him.

Not long after we've taken our seats, Eros leads, Portia to the stage.

“Thank you all for attending this charity gala...” He makes a brief opening speech in a gentle voice, his wife holding his arm throughout with a bright smile on her face.

It's only when the applause ends and they return to their seats that the auction begins.

The auctioneer takes the center of the stage, gavel in hand. The first item brought forward is a porcelain vase, its intricate designs catching the glimmering light. The auctioneer begins his rhythmic chant, describing the vase's history and craftsmanship.

“Ladies and gentlemen, who will start us off with an opening bid?”

“I'll start the bidding at five thousand dollars!” a woman raises her bid paddle.

“Thank you, we have an opening bid of five thousand dollars. Do I hear ten thousand dollars?”

“Fifteen thousand dollars!” someone exclaims.

Damn.

“Excellent, we have a bid of fifteen thousand dollars. How about twenty thousand dollars?”

“Twenty thousand” another goes.

“We have twenty thousand dollars. Can I get twenty-five thousand?”

“Twenty-five thousand!”

I chuckle.

“For a vase?” I whisper to Reid.

“Wait until it's a piece of jewelry previously owned by some countess” he whispers back and I giggle.

“Thank you, twenty-five thousand dollars is the current bid. Any advance on twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“Thirty thousand dollars” Ellen's bid paddle shoots in the air.

“We have a bid of thirty thousand dollars. Going once at thirty thousand... going twice at thirty thousand...” the auctioneer bangs his gavel, “Sold to bidder number 723  for thirty thousand dollars! Congratulations!”

I smile and join in the applause. Ellen catches my eye and gives me a little wave.

“Lee look, jewelry” Reid gently nudges me.

I turn to the stage and a bracelet with kallaites that... according to them— belonged to a Queen of one of European countries— is displayed.

“Can I hear an opening bid of a hundred thousand?”

“Monopoly money?” I whisper to Reid, “Because I'm sure I have that in my purse.”

Reid laughs and only hides his laugh behind a lame cough when the elderly woman seated in front of us turns to look at him.

“See what you did, Freshie?” he whispers when she looks away.

“Sorry not sorry” I whisper back with a smile.

He smiles back at me and the moment is perfect. Till I hear Eros Dalton make a huge bid.

“One million dollars.”

Reid and I look away from each other and at his father.

One million?!

“Isn't that too much, Armani?”

He smiles.

“Not when he's giving it to my mom.”

“Going once... going twice... sold to bidder number 54 for one million dollars! Congratulations Mr. Dalton!”

The room erupts into applause and a few people shower praises at the couple. I find myself smiling a little. Despite how mean his wife could be, he still loved her.

When the next item up for auction is displayed, my eyes flash with surprise and I can't hold back a gasp.

“Lee?” Reid whispers to me, “Hey, are you okay?”

My eyes remain fixed on the screen.

“Hey what's wrong?” he asks, taking my hand in his.

“The painting...” I whisper, getting him to look at the framed painting that was being hoisted up on an easel.

“What about the painting?”

I try to steady my racing heart and speak.

“There's a picture... of my mom... when she was a little girl” I begin, “And in that picture, standing with my mom, is her great grandmother... and that exact painting she painted in the background.”

“That exact painting? Are you sure?”

“No two paintings can have that same size of a chip in the frame, Armani,” I say, turning back to the stage. “Marisol Micaela Treviño Ruiz. The weaving of the Waleker. My mother was named after her” I sigh happily, “Papi would flip if he saw this.”

“The weaving of the what?”

I chuckle and pat Reid's arm.

“The Waleker, Armani. It means the spider.”

“Pfft. I knew that” he rolls his eyes with a smile.

“Did not” I give him a small shove in the shoulder with mine.

“Ow!” he whisper-yells dramatically.

“Shut up” I chuckle, making him laugh.

“You're sure about the painting, Lee?” he asks again.

“Yes, I'm sure, Armani. My great-great-grandmother wasn't a famous painter or anything. But she painted that. I know it's the same painting in the picture.”

“Can you tell me what it is about?”

My forehead creases.

“What?”

“The painting... can you tell me what it is about?” he asks again, “You do know what it is about right?”

“Of course I do. Papi used to tell me stories about my culture” I say, frowning a bit.

“Let's hear it then” he shifts his body to face me and I chuckle.

“Okay. Um... the weaving of the Waleker—”

“The spider, you already mentioned that.”

“Don't interrupt me” I slap his arm.

“Again, ow!”

I roll my eyes.

“So as I was saying—”

“Before you were rudely interrupted, yes?”

I frown at him and he chuckles.

“Alright, alright, I'll shut up.”

I chortle.

“The painting is that of a Wayúu design on a traditionally woven Colombian hammock. Papi told me that the women of the Wayúu ethnic group, from the Guajira Peninsula on the Colombia-Venezuela border, claimed that they learned their weaving skills from Waleker. And that the secrets of their traditional weaving are part of the initiation rites of adolescent girls to womanhood. My great-great-grandmother just painted the hand-stitched weaving designs on a traditional Colombian hammock.”

“Wait, the same great-great-grandmother who came up with that ancient but fantastic soup recipe?”

“The one you just can't get enough of, yeah” I chuckle.

Reid laughs and is about to say something when the screeching of a microphone interrupts him.

“Sorry about the wait, ladies and gentlemen. But we just couldn't get any information on this painting. What we do know is that this is a painting of a Wayúu design from the women of the Wayúu ethnic group. Yes, the same ones from the Guajira Peninsula on the Colombia-Venezuela border who claim they learned their weaving skills from a spider.”

A few people chuckle at that.

It's not funny.

Someone steps behind the auctioneer to whisper something in his ears and hand him a card.

“Oh we have the name of the artist who painted this kanas” the auctioneer chuckles.

“It's pronounced kanás you idiot” I mutter with a frown.

He flips the card open.

“Marisol Micaela Treviño Ruiz,” he says, my heart leaping with joy as I clutch Reid's arm.

It really is that painting she made.

“Well, I have never heard of this woman before but Mazeltov” the man jokes, earning laughter from the crowd.

I frown.

“Okay. The starting price for this painting is ten thousand dollars. Do we have a bidder?”

I'm about to lift my bid paddle... not sure if I can afford though... when Armani beats me to it.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

My hand flies to his thigh in shock and he can't hold back his loud and surprised laugh.

“Woah now.”

It makes me laugh and for ten seconds we're both laughing at each other.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry” I giggle, “What are you doing, Armani?”

“Getting you your great-great-grandma's painting, babe. Duh. Get with the program.”

And at that moment I could kiss him.

No, Lee! Just say thank you.

“Thanks” I clear my throat and take my hand off his thigh.

“Leave it there” he whispers.

I chuckle.

“Armani...”

“Two hundred thousand!”

I whip my head toward the deep but elegant voice with the accent and it's Ethan Holloway.

“You have got to be kidding me” Reid and I say at the same time.

And I just know Anika is behind this.

“I can bet you all the money in this room that your ex-girlfriend put him up to this” I frown.

“Oh, you see it too?” Reid replies sarcastically and shoots his bid paddle in the air. “Five hundred thousand!”

“Armani...”

“One million” Ethan, whose eyes are glued to his phone's screen, bids without looking up.

Oh hell...

“Son of a... two million!” Reid frowns.

“Armani stop” I touch his arm, “The painting isn't even worth that much.”

“I said I was going to get it for you and so that's exactly what I'm going to do,” he tells me in a tone I don't recognize, his eyes glued to Anika and her fiancée.

God...

I turn to look at them and Anika is tugging on Ethan's sleeve to probably bid higher.

“Five million” Ethan says like a puppet on a string.

“Ten million” Reid follows without any hesitation. “You know what? Fuck it. I bid twenty million dollars for the painting.”

The guests are astonished by the bids and the hall begins to erupt into murmurs.

“Armani” I shake his arm for him to drop his glare.

“What?”

“Stop it,” I say firmly with a frown.

He looks down at me.

“Why? I told you I'm getting you the painting... no matter how much it's going to cost.”

“But I don't want it that way, Armnai” I shake my head. “I don't want you to get me that painting this way. This is not a competition. I don't want it to be.”

He frowns at me.

“I'm doing this for you.”

“No” I frown back, “Not when you're going to spend two million dollars on it” I shake my head. “Look, my great, great grandmother was not a master of art. Painting was just a hobby. I only care about that painting because my family and my culture mean a lot to me.”

“So then it doesn't matter, freshie. If you want it, just let me buy it for you.”

“No,” I say in a finalizing tone. “Not when you're going to compete with Ethan like an idiot.”

His jaw ticks.

“Let them have it. I don't want it if this is the only way I'm going to get it” I whisper.

He flexes his jaw, about to say something when Ethan's, “Fifty million!” cuts through the room.

Armani sees red and is about to raise his bid puddle when my hand flies to his thigh and gives him a small squeeze.

“Stop” I whisper.

And in that moment it's like something deflates in him because he closes his eyes and slumps against his chair.

“Dammit Aileen” I catch him muttering before groaning.

When Reid doesn't follow, the auctioneer bangs his gavel.

“Fifty million, last chance!”

Reid opens his eyes, not bothering to speak or sit up as my hand is still on his thigh.

“Sold for fifty million dollars to bidder number 838. Congratulations!”

The hall erupts into applause and I gently squeeze his thigh again.

“Thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯✯

He's mad at me.

Really mad.

Because after the auction is over and the last-minute socializing is beginning, he's made sure to avoid me.

Because I refuse to let him spend that much on a painting?

Only you would refuse that, my conscience chides.

“Shut up” I murmur to myself and finish my drink.

How I was not drunk, I had no idea.

I catch sight of him crossing over to speak to his father. Reid's nostrils flare; his eyebrows knit. Those emerald eyes blaze as if he’s got murder on his mind.

Why the hell is he so angry?

I blew it, didn't I?

He fists his fingers at his sides; the skin stretching white at his knuckles.

What's going on with him?

There’s a fierceness to the set of his features that I’ve never seen before.

“Jealousy suits him, don’t you think?”

Clayton steps in front, cutting off Reid from my line of sight. He holds out his hand. “It’s nice to see you again Lee.”

“It’s not for me” I reply with a frown.

He chuckles.

“Trust me when I say this. I’ve known Ben for a long time, and I’ve never seen a woman do what you just did to him. Maybe it has something to do with—” he hesitates, then shakes his head. “Never mind.”

“What do you want?”

He grabs my arm and leads me to the side. I glance behind to see that people have closed in on where Reid and his father are speaking.

“Something isn't right about the two of you.”

“What?” I huff out a breath.

“He coerced you into this relationship, didnʼt he?”

I shoot him a sideways glance, “You still don’t think I would have done this willingly, do you?”

“Well, he has a way with women so.”

“Not with this one” I pull away from him and he holds on.

“It’s in your interest to play along isn't it?”

“Huh?”

“You want something out of this entire arrangement, do you not.”

“I don’t—”

“Other than a monetary payoff.”

“Are all of you Daltons as egotistical as he is sometimes?”

“The jury is out on that. We each have our strengths and weaknesses.”

“Well, your weaknesses are obviously more than your strengths because if it was the other way around, you wouldn't spend your entire life eating Reid's leftovers.”

He frowns, then drops my hand.

“Watch it.”

“Or else what, Clayton? I'm sick and tired of all of you.”

“I know what you two have going on is nothing but a sham” Clayton slides his hand into his pocket, every inch the picture of a self-assured, domineering, upper-class twat. “But Ben feels something for you. And it's funny because he’s so far gone in his emotions that he doesn’t realize how much he is willing to invest in this sham of a relationship.”

My heart begins to thud.

“You, my dear, are his weakness. But before you ruin him and everything that is supposed to be mine, I'll make sure you're exposed.”

A hand descends on his shoulder and I glance past Clayton to find Reid glaring at me.

“Get away from her.”

“Just a conversation, bro. Chill” he chuckles.

“Anything you want to say to her goes through me.”

I frown.

And whereʼs this overprotectiveness coming from?

“Now hold on a second” I huff, “I'm still here.”

Clayton steps away.

“Whatever you say, Ben.” Then he turns to me, “We'll continue our little conversation later, beautiful.”

Reid plants his body between us.

“Here, asshole,” he indicates his face, “You direct your questions here.”

Clayton’s eyebrows fly up.

“Ooh, possessive much?”

“Fuck off, Clay. I'm not in the mood.”

“So then relax, bro. I'm just having a harmless little conversation with her. You've never had a problem with me getting to know any of the women you've been with before. So why is this one different? She's just like the rest of them so thereʼs no need to get mad.”

Every muscle in Reid’s body goes solid. His shoulders seem to bulge, stretching the already tight fit of his tux. He withdraws his arm and I grab it.

“Don’t.”

The tension radiates off of him, under his skin. The warmth of his body sinks into my fingertips and travels straight to its logical destination.

My core.

I dig my fingertips into his forearm. He’s so big that I have to use both of my hands to circle the circumference of his muscle.

“Please, Armani.”

He leans forward on the balls of his feet and his jaw ticks.

“I am going to kill you if you ever touch or look at her again.”

I stare.

Whatʼs suddenly gotten into him?

Clayton glowers.

“Well, I'm getting tired of your attitude, Reid. Sheʼs not even the one for you. Listen to your mother.”

Oh, for heaven’s sake!

I shove my body between the two of them as Reid glares at his cousin. Then without warning, I stand on my tiptoes and grab Reidʼs collar.

“What are you—?” He glances down.

I tug him toward me, rise on my tiptoes, and kiss him.
His lips are softer than I remember them to be. Which must be my imagination because there’s nothing soft about this man. I nibble on his lower lip, and his entire body goes solid. He stays there, unmoving.

I’m trying to distract you from getting into a fight you idiot.

The tabloids are probably used to him creating a scene. But instinct had taken over, and a surge of possessiveness, maybe. My heart stutters. For that second, I feel a kernel of ownership over him, and concern about his reputation. Or a thrill at the fact that he’d been jealous because another man had touched me?

Either way, I had been stupid to act on impulse.

I disentangle my arms and step back.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “That was not warranted.”

I angle my body with the intent of leaving. But the next second his arms loop around my waist. I squeak and he hauls me up and to him. His mouth crashes down on mine and I gasp aloud and the sound is lost, consumed by him.
His tongue thrusts between my open lips and tangles with mine.

The taste of him fills my palate. The heat of his body slams into me, surrounds me, and ties me to him. His palm cups my cheek, cradling my head, tilts my face up, deepening the kiss further. He yanks me close until my breasts are flattened against the unforgiving wall of his chest. My nipples bead and my sex clenches. Every pore in my body seems to open with anticipation, and still, he doesn’t stop.

Reidʼs teeth clash with mine. His tongue laps at mine and the scent of him fills my senses. His hard thighs cradle my hips and the turgid length of his cock jumps against my core. I swallow and try to pull away, but his large fingers wrap around my neck and I stutter. He holds me in place, every millimeter of my body pressed against him, branding me, owning me, a clear signal that I am his.

I won’t be able to escape him. Neither will I be able to leave this fake relationship unhurt.

Tracy was right.

A trembling sweeps up my body and my hands shake and my knees knock together. The utter rightness of my thoughts sinks into my bones and my heart begins to thud.  But I'm unable to pull away from him, as he ravages my mouth, and brands me with his touch.

Is that why I can’t stop the moan that bleeds from my mouth?

He bites down on my lower lip and I gasp as goosebumps dot my skin. Reid tears his mouth from mine and I sway.

“Look at me.”

I crack open my eyelids and meet that emerald gaze. The golden flecks in them flare.

“Never do that again, Aileen.”

I swallow.

Of course. What was I thinking?

The sound of clapping reaches me and I wince. When my shoulders shake, Reid wraps his arm around me and turns me around, tucking me into his side.

My hands and feet are so numb. And a cold sensation slides down my back, making me shiver. He tugs me closer, searing my side with the heat of his ever-confusing intention. My throat goes dry.

Shit!

But I want him. I want to feel his touch on my skin. Yet every logic inside of me wants to turn him away. My head spins and before I can do something as stupid as kiss him again only to get rejected, I slowly but firmly push away from him.

The shock and hurt I catch in his eyes beg me to rethink my actions but I refuse.

“I'm tired, Reid. But it doesnʼt look like youʼre ready to leave. So Iʼll go ahead. See you when I do.”

Shrugging his jacket off me, I push it into his chest and walk away.

Thank you for reading!
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Ciao
~the_atticwriter