Struck from the Record Read online

  “Hey,” she breathed.

  “Hey yourself.” Clay leaned his side into the bar and smiled his dimpled smile that always brought girls to their knees.

  “I’m Bethany.”

  “Nice to meet you, Bethany,” Clay purred. He liked the way she breathed in deeply when he’d said her name.

  Bethany giggled and averted her gaze. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked after a minute of silence.

  Shit!

  His eyes shot to Cash, who was talking up the brunette and not paying attention. Did the dipshit know these girls? This was the biggest fucking issue with frequenting the same bar over and over.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, brushing it aside. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Really?”

  “I’d just dumped my boyfriend and needed a quickie. You were hot and obliged,” she admitted with a soft pink blush on her cheeks.

  “Were?” he asked with a smirk.

  She giggled again. “Are. You’re definitely still hot.”

  “Well, we could make this time more memorable…”

  “I got back together with the boyfriend.”

  “How unfortunate for him that I’m here tonight then.”

  She bit her lip and glanced down at his mouth, as if contemplating his suggestion. When she took a step toward him and not back toward her friends, he knew he had her. God, this is so easy. He swore, sometimes, he didn’t even have to put in any effort at all. With or without this boyfriend she’d spoken of, he still managed to get her eating out of the palm of his hand.

  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.”

  “And smell like an ashtray,” she added. Andrea rolled her eyes. “Were you out with Cash and Ethan before this?�
��

  Clay shrugged and threw an arm around her narrow waist. “I’m here with you now.”

  “Well, let me introduce you to some people then.” Andrea immediately shifted back into professional mode.

  This was what it was like when they were at events together. That same old familiar feeling. The ease with which they settled into the facade of being a real normal couple. His hand on her waist, her eyes finding his, sharing private thoughts in a glance. They had been like this for so long; it was as easy as breathing.

  Except, this time, it was different. Just a slight difference but a difference nonetheless. Andrea had been standing at his back for his career, his dreams, for so long, he had never realized the shift it would be for him to be standing at her back for once.

  All the people here were for Andrea. Some of the people she introduced him to were her colleagues and patrons. What he’d always thought was a brainless fascination with spending an insane amount of money on art seemed to have turned into a real career.

  This whole time, he must have been fucking blind not to notice.

  But he noticed now. And he felt something stirring in his chest for her. Pride. Even if he didn’t understand this world, he was glad that she was happy in it.

  Andrea kissed the cheeks of a woman in a flowing long gown and said something in French he just barely caught. His French was rusty, but he was pretty sure they were talking about him.

  “Yes. This is my boyfriend, Clay,” Andrea said, gesturing to him.

  “Pleasure to finally meet you. Your Andrea is quite a treat,” the woman said in a thick accent. “I’ve not seen anyone with such an eye since my belated husband.”

  “She is striking, isn’t she?” Clay said.

  He put his arm around Andrea, and she beamed.

  “That woman owns half of Paris, I swear,” Andrea told him once they were out of earshot. “Her husband was an art collector, and apparently, she’s grown to like American art even though she thinks that Americans are a bit crass.”

  “We are,” Clay agreed. “What did she say about me?”

  “Oh, you heard,” Andrea said, pulling him farther away. “She said you were too handsome not to have at my side at all times.”

  Clay bent down and kissed her temple. “She’s right.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said again. “I have to do some more business, but let me show you this one project.”

  Clay obliged her and followed her into another room where a large portrait was showcased. It was of a woman he’d never seen before. She was stripped naked and staring out a large glass-paned window plastered with rain. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she looked distraught. It was romanticized in some way. Her breasts were covered. Her legs crossed. She didn’t look obscene. Just missing something…and it wasn’t her clothes.

  “I wasn’t going to get rid of it,” Andrea told him. “But I knew it would fetch a fortune.”

  “It speaks to you,” he admitted. He wasn’t big into art, but even he could tell that the work was special.

  “It does. She does.”

  “How much is it going for?” he asked curiously. Why would she ever get rid of something she loves so much?

  “Half a million.”

  Clay choked and sputtered, “Jesus, Andrea…”

  She nodded. “I know. The artist recently passed. I’d purchased this the last time we were in the French Riviera, and now, it’s worth a hundred times what I paid for it. Seemed too good to pass up.”

  Clay didn’t argue with her. It was too good to pass up. They didn’t need the money by any means, but that kind of increase in value was incredible. And, like the stock market, who knew how long that value would last? Everyone was probably scooping up all the paintings from the artist while they were available. Then, the bubble would likely burst, and Andrea would be left with a painting worth the five grand she’d paid for it.

  “And it’ll sell tonight?”

  She nodded. “I’ve already had five prospective buyers. It might go into auction if they all decide to bid.”

  “All the better for you.”

  Sadness crept into her eyes at the loss of the painting, but she quickly hid it. He knew how much it pained her to get rid of this. She was first and foremost a lover of art. Even if she was making a career out of it, it wouldn’t still the sting of losing one of her pieces.

  “Andrea, there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” A man approached from behind them and pulled Andrea into a hug before Clay even realized whom it was.

  As soon as he did, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists, and his entire body stiffened.

  Bad Suit. Asher McWalter. What the fuck is he doing here?

  He stared daggers at the douche bag’s back. He stepped forward to pry Bad Suit’s slimy fingers off of what belonged to Clay when Andrea hastily sidestepped his advance.

  “Oh, Asher,” she said crisply. It was her business voice. “I didn’t realize you were even here.”

  “Just arrived. Had to close the gallery,” he said evenly. “You know how it is.”

  Clay loudly cleared his throat, stood up as straight as possible, and stared down at the guy with pure fury in his eyes. He wasn’t at a bar. He couldn’t throw a punch. But he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to be physical with this guy. It was pretty obvious that anything he threw the douche bag’s way would crush him.

  But this guy had gotten Andrea to leave that bar with him. He’d taken Andrea home and fucked Clay’s girl on the night when she was supposed to have left with him. He knew he probably shouldn’t lay his entire attack on this guy’s doorstep, but that didn’t stop him from doing it.

  Andrea took one look at Clay’s face and stepped easily into his arms. She put her hand on his suit, like she wanted to hold him back. Her smile was cautious. “Asher, this is Clay. Clay…Asher.”

  Asher glanced uncertainly between them. He probably didn’t know that Andrea had a boyfriend. None of Clay’s conquests knew about her. Except, well, Liz, but that was an accident when he had run into her at Hilton Head. Not that he’d gone through with it with Liz.

  When neither of them moved, Andrea kept talking, “Asher owns a gallery uptown. I’ve found some great pieces there. Jamie was featured there once.”

  Clay didn’t take his eyes off of Asher. Andrea was filling him on information he already knew. The girl never mumbled, so she must be nervous as shit to have them standing in the same room, breathing the same air.

  Andrea glanced up at him with a pleading look on her face. It was brief. She would never show her emotions for that long. He just knew that she wanted him to fucking say something.

  “That right? Art galleries seem to be all the rage right now,” Clay drawled.

  “And Clay is…he’s an attorney,” Andrea said, clearly not thinking his comment was sufficient. “He just finished up as a clerk at the Supreme Court and is now at the top firm in D.C.”

  “Attorney,” Asher said, staring him down. “Heard they’re a dime a dozen.”

  Clay grinned. “That’s not the only thing I’ve heard is a dime a dozen.”

  Clay was in full-on standoff mode. He’d never encountered someone who would do this. Not that Andrea wasn’t sought after by any means, but the former conquests were usually fleeting. They certainly didn’t show up when he was around, and they didn’t have the balls to tell him he was a dime a dozen. He’d been with Andrea for ten years officially—fifteen, if all the summers at Hilton Head were included. Asher was infringing on his territory, and he could go straight to hell for all Clay cared.

  “But it’s all right,” Clay said.

  Clay tugged Andrea closer to him and teasingly brought his lips down on hers. She squirmed for a minute, clearly uncertain about doing this at her event under the close scrutiny of the last guy she had been fucking. But she eventually gave in and kissed him back.

  “Andrea,” Asher said with a pointed cough.

  “You did know she had a boyfr
iend, right?” Clay asked, not letting Andrea say a word.

  He could hear a slight groan next to him, but he ignored her. He was too focused on the look of confusion on Asher’s face.

  “You’re her…boyfriend?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Since when? Two or three weeks, Andrea?”

  Clay laughed derisively. “Weeks? Try years. But it’s interesting how you think you can talk to her when she’s been mine since we were thirteen.”

  “Clay,” Andrea whispered, “just let it go.”

  Asher was looking at Andrea now, and Clay could see the guy was hurt by his words. Good. The poor sap. Thought she’d actually cared about him and wasn’t just another game.

  “No, he needs to know, baby,” Clay told her. “She’s mine. So, whatever you’re thinking, I’d turn around and walk away because it’s never fucking happening.”

  Asher took one more look at Andrea, gritted his teeth, and then disappeared.

  Good riddance.

  Andrea smacked Clay on the arm, bringing him back to reality. “Why did you have to do that?”

  “What do you mean, why did I have to do that?” Clay asked. “He can’t have you, Andrea.”

  “He already knows that I don’t want to date him, Clay. He knows. I told him after the attack. I had no interest in him anymore. You didn’t have to rub salt in the wound.”

  He dipped his head real close to her again. His nose brushed against hers, and he ran a hand down her back. “You’re wrong about that. That was exactly what I needed to do because, now, he knows why you ditched his ass. And that you’re with me, Andrea. With me.”

  He kissed her again, full on the mouth. Something had possessed him when he saw Asher and the way he looked at Andrea. Something had crawled straight out of Clay’s chest and breathed fire.

  But the look on her face now brought it all back into perspective. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her look at him like that. Like putty in his hands. Complete and total adoration. Guess she didn’t mind that he’d put his foot down, which was good because he wouldn’t have been able to stop even if he’d wanted to.