Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79438 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Even though my back is aching from all the bending and I’m exhausted, I smile brightly, “Hi, Ridge.”
He hardly glances at me. “Not today. I’m in a hurry.”
I pick up my pace to catch up with him. “When can we meet to discuss my collection?”
“I’m busy all week. Once things are quieter, I’ll let you know,” he mutters as we step out onto the sidewalk.
It’s the same excuse he gave me two weeks ago, and I scowl as I watch him climb into a cab.
I’ll only give him one more month of my time, then I’ll try my luck at other galleries. Hell, I’ll even try selling my work at markets.
Letting out a sigh, I head toward my apartment. Actually, it belongs to my father, and he only lets me stay there to ensure I don’t negatively affect his public image.
After all, Judge Harrison can’t have one of his children living in poverty.
I roll my eyes at the thought because even though I don’t make millions, my salary is enough to get a studio apartment and take care of my expenses.
I’m saving up for a deposit, and once I have the funds, I’ll look for my own place. It’s not that I’m ungrateful my father is offering his apartment to me, but because I want to be independent.
I’m worried about how my parents will take the news once I tell them I want to pay for my own apartment, which won’t be as luxurious as the one I currently live in.
If I do it, they’ll probably be embarrassed because image has always been important to my parents. My family’s in the newspapers every other week, and the strain of living up to their super-high standards is taking a toll on me.
I don’t care about living in a penthouse. I just want a little apartment that’s mine.
I want to make the rules in my life.
Chapter 3
Callan
Dressed in a three-piece suit with Harper by my side, I struggle not to glare at the other people around us.
Most of the guests attending the fundraiser are entitled and arrogant, thinking their wealth gives them the right to treat other people like shit.
I’m not a fan of events. Whether they’re fundraisers or for business, I don’t care for them at all.
“Smile,” Harper hisses. She’s looking drop-dead gorgeous in a pink formal dress, and I’m proud to have her on my arm.
Harper’s husband, Daniel, should be here soon. When they met after college and fell in love, I was lucky to gain him as a friend, and I know I’m one of the few men he trusts with his wife.
I force my lips to curl up, then grumble, “We’re not spending a second longer than an hour here.”
“It’s good publicity for people to see you at fundraisers,” she reminds me. “It shows you have a heart.”
I notice my neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Hill, sucking up to Eloise Torres, a professional friend of mine. Unable to resist a chance to rattle the Hills, I tug Harper closer to the group.
Mrs. Hill is the first to notice me, and looking like she stepped in shit, she pats her husband’s arm to get his attention.
Eloise has made a name for herself in the art world, and everybody clamors to be seen with her.
Pulling away from Harper, I place my hand on Eloise’s lower back, and the moment she makes eye contact with me, a beautiful smile spreads over her face.
Even though she’s in her fifties, she can give any thirty-year-old a run for their money. The woman is aging like fine wine.
“Callan, I’m so glad you could make it.” She presses a kiss to my cheek and smiles at Harper before turning her attention back to the Hills. “Have you met Callan Wright and Harper Jones? They’re friends of mine.”
The news rattles the older couple, but Mr. Hill recovers first. “Oh, yes. Mr. Wright is one of our neighbors.”
“Is that so?” Eloise says. “Such a small world.”
Eloise was one of my first high-profile clients, and through her, I learned the beauty of art. We’ve never crossed the line and never will. Besides Eloise being twenty years older than me, she loves her single status and doesn’t have time for a romantic relationship in her life.
The Hills excuse themselves, and when they walk away, I murmur, “You look beautiful as always, Eloise. How are things at the gallery?”
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she replies. “I’m bracing for the storm. We have exhibition after exhibition lined up for the next six months.” She smiles at Harper. “When you grow tired of Callan, you can always come work with me.”
I wrap an arm around Harper and playfully shake my head at Eloise. “Harper is my sidekick. Get your own.”
“Yeah, but she’s my wife,” Daniel suddenly says as he joins our group.
I let go of his wife and grin at my friend as I shake his hand. “Glad you could make it.”