“Orange blossoms, sir?” She raised her blonde eyebrows.
“Do they exist?”
“Why, yes. They definitely are real. It’s our state flower.”
“So people make perfume out of it.”
“Sure. Lots of them. My mother used to add them to wedding bouquets when she worked at a big florist in Ocala. On Valentine’s Day people would mix them with rose arrangements since they’re believed to be an aphrodisiac.”
“Get me some orange blossom candles for my office and bedroom.”
Without asking me why, Reece wrote it down. It was why I paid her so much. She knew when to speak up and the right moment to keep her mouth closed. I didn’t need her inquiries on why I longed for that fragrance. Not that I had an answer myself. I just needed her to get the scent to my private space as soon as she could because I didn’t plan on being around Elle anymore, even though I craved to touch her skin again and inhale her sweet perfume. Too much surged between us. It was sizzling and sparked something inside of me. I could have wet my finger, stuck it into a wall socket, and not gotten the shock I’d received from just one touch of Elle’s hand.
Not again. She is here to keep Hex busy, not me. Elle will serve her purpose this summer and then be gone. Besides, she has her own drama trailing behind her.
Grandma envisioned a man after her, a bad one who called her Ellie. I’d bet that bastard Michael was the guy. Who else could it be? I didn’t follow his career, but everyone recognized his Archangel series. It must’ve been twenty massive paintings of Elle nude, her hair flying high in the air and separated like wings. I’d gotten a hard-on at the premiere. Galleries enjoyed showcasing artists with a lot of drama. Displaying Michael and Hex’s collections together, two artists who made it a point to publicly ridicule each other, was a no brainer. The press went crazy. Critics, fans, and enthusiasts packed the place. All compared their work throughout the night, running from room to room. Michael’s stuff was on the west side of the building, Hex on the east. By the end of the evening, hordes of baffled art lovers congregated in the center of the building, unsure of which one was the best.
And now Michael’s Archangel will be modeling for Hex. When I notify our publicist, she’ll have a happy orgasm in selling this. It will be the top news in the art world for the whole summer.
The only question remained was would Michael be a problem. If he hurt her, then it wouldn’t be wise for him to come here. It wasn’t that I had a special feeling for her or anything. I just didn’t appreciate guys taking advantage of women. That was all. Nothing more.
“Schedule a meeting with Hex’s publicist. I want her to know about Elle posing for him. It may get us some more backers.”
“Should I put together a small media package, too, on the art collection and what it will be about?” Reece scribbled the note.
“No.”
Hex remained hushed on what the subject matter of his collection would be about. If I focused too much on that tiny predicament, then I would have an aneurism. Anytime he kept his art secret, it meant that I would be pissed at the reveal. Discovering the focus of his collection would have to be dealt with soon, before he went too far with whatever he had planned.
Maybe I could ask Elle to tell me what they’re doing? No. I can’t hang around her anymore. Besides, she’s already seen the crazy side of Hex, Grandma, and me, and was ready to rush off. Having her spy on my brother would probably not sit right with her.
“The limo will be here at 6:30 p.m. to pick Hex and you up.” Reece interrupted my thoughts. “Your tuxedo is in your bedroom. Should I make arrangements for Hex’s new model to come with us? I know Hex enjoys showing his new models off when he can.”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t enjoy the anticipation bubbling in my chest from the fact that I might see Elle again. It shouldn’t have even happened. She was only a beautiful woman. I’d seen many in my life.
But none who gave me an electric surge.
Chapter 5
Elle
My phone read thirty-five missed calls from Michael.
Will there be a certain point when my phone stops counting missed calls?
Michael’s messages flooded the inbox to the point where I was sure no one else could leave a message. Not that anyone else called me. I never truly made friends with anybody and had chosen to stay to myself or dedicate all of my time to Michael.
Not anymore.
I shut my phone off and leaned my head against the window as the driver steered the limo toward South Beach. Hex sat silent in the far corner with his thumb in his mouth and his face toward his door. He hadn’t said anything the whole thirty minutes we’d been in the car.