Rare and Precious Things
Page 15
“You worry too much. It’s just a babydoll summer dress. We’re on holiday at the beach for Christ’s sake. I am dressed for the occasion.”
A babydoll dress? Fucking hellfire and damnation. I was confident tonight would age me permanently. For a few reasons. One was just the casualty of having a beautiful wife who grabbed attention everywhere we went in public, no matter how subdued she was in her personality. Another was the destination, and crowd we’d be mixing with tonight. I couldn’t pretend to be happy about it, but knew I was outvoted and undermined when it came to Brynne’s modeling.
I imagined what I could say to the people I’d meet at this blasted party, as I sat on the bed and shoved my feet into my shoes harshly. Hello, Ethan Blackstone, nice to meet you. My wife is one of Carveletti’s models. Isn’t she lovely without her clothes on? Smashing tits, I know. Oh, trust me, I know. *wink* Which picture of her do you prefer? The one of her tits or this one where you can really see the curve of her sexy arse? I dragged a hand over my beard in anxious frustration.
Simply absorbing the content of my imagined social greeting was a little more than I could handle, so I tried to distract myself by thinking of this afternoon’s swim with her instead. Didn’t help much…
Carvaletti, one of her photographer friends, had invited us to his home, which just happened to be in Porto Santo Stefano. Marvelous f**king luck. Brynne was determined to drag us there, so I guess I’d be cockblocking all goddamn night instead of enjoying the beach under the stars with my girl.
I was pulled from my inner rant by her cool hand at my cheek and a worried expression on her lovely face. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could just kiss her senseless into forgetting about going to this thing?
“Please don’t let this party ruin our night. It’s just a mixer of industry people who happen to be gathering while we’re here.” The pleading look she gave me tugged at me, making me feel guilty for not being more supportive of her work.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m trying to support you here, but am afraid I suck at it. I go mad when other men hit on you. I want to kill first and ask questions later when I see how they look at you.” I shook my head at her “babydoll” dress. “And with you wearing that, I know I am well and truly f**ked for an evening of torture.”
“Many of my photographers are g*y, Ethan.” I could feel her inner thoughts calling me a possessive arsehole, even though I knew she wasn’t to that point yet. Not yet…but I might push her there if I kept on.
“Carveletti’s not one of them though, is he?”
She sighed heavily and pressed her lips to my hair. I reached for her and drew her onto my lap, burying my face at her neck.
“We don’t have to stay very long, Ethan. Just long enough to be polite and greet everyone.”
“Promise?” I knew I was acting a bloody dickhead but at least I was being honest with how I felt. “I don’t share you very well at all, and I won’t apologize for that part,” I murmured at her ear.
“I promise, sweet husband.” She offered her lips to me. “Just give me a code word when you’re done and we can leave.”
“Now see? You go and say something like that to me and I feel like an insensitive brute.” I tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t mean just on the outside.” I brought my finger to her heart. “Here is beautiful.”
Her expression softened. “I love you so much, Ethan, even when you’re being an insensitive brute.” She drew me to her lips with a hand under my chin.
“I know…and I count my blessings every day that you do.”
“So what’s your code word so I know?”
I thought for a moment and it came to me in a brilliant flash. “Simba.”
She laughed and shook her head at me slowly. “Simba it is, then.”
“BELLA, you look magnificent, the glow in your cheeks, everything, is utter perfection.” Marco, kissed me on both cheeks as was custom, then held me at arm’s length for a thorough perusal. “Lovely dress. I can see that marriage and motherhood are both agreeing with you, darling.”
I felt Ethan’s hand at my back soften and relax at Marco’s friendly, but appropriate greeting. Maybe he’d get over his paranoia that Marco was trying to bag me every time he photographed me. Ethan just didn’t understand that Marco wasn’t like that at all. He was a professional photographer doing a job with me, and nothing more. Well, nothing more than a working, platonic friendship. He’d always been kind to me, and I liked working with Marco Carvaletti very much. I hoped Ethan could see it here tonight as we all interacted.
“It is, Marco, and I don’t think I could be any happier.” I leaned into Ethan, nudging him to speak up.
“Mr. Carvaletti, thank you for the invitation. We’ve been looking forward to this all day.” Ethan lied smoothly, offering his hand, playing the social gentleman to perfection, which he was well skilled at. I guess he did it out of love for me. I knew he didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted me modeling. I mouthed a thank you only visible to him. He kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Don’t forget about Simba, baby.” Then he wandered off to get drinks for us.
Marco took me on a tour of his elegantly restored seventeenth-century villa as I marveled at all of the art. He had a whole room set up as a gallery of his photographs. There were a couple of me in there. One where I sat in a formal chair with one knee up, strategically placed, my expression far away and pensive. The other pose was a side view recreation of a vintage Ziegfeld Follies girl with a feather boa and some satin pumps. It was one of the first portraits I posed for and I really thought it was nicely choreographed.
“It is a beautiful piece, bella. I knew when we did that series you had the gift.” Marco stood behind me admiring the image he had created with me as the subject.
“I was so nervous posing, but you made me laugh when you told me to imagine Iggy Pop in a dress.” I shrugged. “That broke the ice and I was fine after that.”
“That one works for me every time, bella.”
“Well, Iggy Pop in a dress is funny, so good job, Marco.” We laughed together and made our way back to the main gathering.
Where was Ethan with my drink? I scanned the room for sight of him, but didn’t see his tall form standing out among the crowd anywhere. And I needed water.
A babydoll dress? Fucking hellfire and damnation. I was confident tonight would age me permanently. For a few reasons. One was just the casualty of having a beautiful wife who grabbed attention everywhere we went in public, no matter how subdued she was in her personality. Another was the destination, and crowd we’d be mixing with tonight. I couldn’t pretend to be happy about it, but knew I was outvoted and undermined when it came to Brynne’s modeling.
I imagined what I could say to the people I’d meet at this blasted party, as I sat on the bed and shoved my feet into my shoes harshly. Hello, Ethan Blackstone, nice to meet you. My wife is one of Carveletti’s models. Isn’t she lovely without her clothes on? Smashing tits, I know. Oh, trust me, I know. *wink* Which picture of her do you prefer? The one of her tits or this one where you can really see the curve of her sexy arse? I dragged a hand over my beard in anxious frustration.
Simply absorbing the content of my imagined social greeting was a little more than I could handle, so I tried to distract myself by thinking of this afternoon’s swim with her instead. Didn’t help much…
Carvaletti, one of her photographer friends, had invited us to his home, which just happened to be in Porto Santo Stefano. Marvelous f**king luck. Brynne was determined to drag us there, so I guess I’d be cockblocking all goddamn night instead of enjoying the beach under the stars with my girl.
I was pulled from my inner rant by her cool hand at my cheek and a worried expression on her lovely face. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could just kiss her senseless into forgetting about going to this thing?
“Please don’t let this party ruin our night. It’s just a mixer of industry people who happen to be gathering while we’re here.” The pleading look she gave me tugged at me, making me feel guilty for not being more supportive of her work.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m trying to support you here, but am afraid I suck at it. I go mad when other men hit on you. I want to kill first and ask questions later when I see how they look at you.” I shook my head at her “babydoll” dress. “And with you wearing that, I know I am well and truly f**ked for an evening of torture.”
“Many of my photographers are g*y, Ethan.” I could feel her inner thoughts calling me a possessive arsehole, even though I knew she wasn’t to that point yet. Not yet…but I might push her there if I kept on.
“Carveletti’s not one of them though, is he?”
She sighed heavily and pressed her lips to my hair. I reached for her and drew her onto my lap, burying my face at her neck.
“We don’t have to stay very long, Ethan. Just long enough to be polite and greet everyone.”
“Promise?” I knew I was acting a bloody dickhead but at least I was being honest with how I felt. “I don’t share you very well at all, and I won’t apologize for that part,” I murmured at her ear.
“I promise, sweet husband.” She offered her lips to me. “Just give me a code word when you’re done and we can leave.”
“Now see? You go and say something like that to me and I feel like an insensitive brute.” I tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful, and I don’t mean just on the outside.” I brought my finger to her heart. “Here is beautiful.”
Her expression softened. “I love you so much, Ethan, even when you’re being an insensitive brute.” She drew me to her lips with a hand under my chin.
“I know…and I count my blessings every day that you do.”
“So what’s your code word so I know?”
I thought for a moment and it came to me in a brilliant flash. “Simba.”
She laughed and shook her head at me slowly. “Simba it is, then.”
“BELLA, you look magnificent, the glow in your cheeks, everything, is utter perfection.” Marco, kissed me on both cheeks as was custom, then held me at arm’s length for a thorough perusal. “Lovely dress. I can see that marriage and motherhood are both agreeing with you, darling.”
I felt Ethan’s hand at my back soften and relax at Marco’s friendly, but appropriate greeting. Maybe he’d get over his paranoia that Marco was trying to bag me every time he photographed me. Ethan just didn’t understand that Marco wasn’t like that at all. He was a professional photographer doing a job with me, and nothing more. Well, nothing more than a working, platonic friendship. He’d always been kind to me, and I liked working with Marco Carvaletti very much. I hoped Ethan could see it here tonight as we all interacted.
“It is, Marco, and I don’t think I could be any happier.” I leaned into Ethan, nudging him to speak up.
“Mr. Carvaletti, thank you for the invitation. We’ve been looking forward to this all day.” Ethan lied smoothly, offering his hand, playing the social gentleman to perfection, which he was well skilled at. I guess he did it out of love for me. I knew he didn’t want to be here any more than he wanted me modeling. I mouthed a thank you only visible to him. He kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, “Don’t forget about Simba, baby.” Then he wandered off to get drinks for us.
Marco took me on a tour of his elegantly restored seventeenth-century villa as I marveled at all of the art. He had a whole room set up as a gallery of his photographs. There were a couple of me in there. One where I sat in a formal chair with one knee up, strategically placed, my expression far away and pensive. The other pose was a side view recreation of a vintage Ziegfeld Follies girl with a feather boa and some satin pumps. It was one of the first portraits I posed for and I really thought it was nicely choreographed.
“It is a beautiful piece, bella. I knew when we did that series you had the gift.” Marco stood behind me admiring the image he had created with me as the subject.
“I was so nervous posing, but you made me laugh when you told me to imagine Iggy Pop in a dress.” I shrugged. “That broke the ice and I was fine after that.”
“That one works for me every time, bella.”
“Well, Iggy Pop in a dress is funny, so good job, Marco.” We laughed together and made our way back to the main gathering.
Where was Ethan with my drink? I scanned the room for sight of him, but didn’t see his tall form standing out among the crowd anywhere. And I needed water.
