Scrooge

11. Alexander

11

ALEXANDER

I pull at my cuff, the nervous energy I have pulsating around my body entirely new. Sitting in the back seat, I try to relax as my driver snakes through the streets to Tucker Toys. I am used to attending events, and although I don’t go to many, it isn’t like I am a stranger around town. I have been to the Maddison Miller Gallery a few times, picking some art for my penthouse, and I have been selecting a few new pieces for my house in the Hamptons. Not that I have been there this year. Last time I was there, I went with my father for the weekend. The weekend before he died.

“We’re here, sir.”

I look up at the toy store. The Thanksgiving window sparkles as Dan, my driver, jumps out and opens my door.

“I’ll be five minutes,” I tell him, buttoning my suit jacket and walking briskly inside. The store is empty, and it is quiet, no music playing.

“I'm ready.” I hear Haylee’s voice, and I turn to see her walking out from the back, her sister right behind her.

My breath gets stuck in my throat. Laurent said he organized some clothing and a hair appointment for her, and while I didn’t think too much of it at the time, now I am dazzled.

“Is this alright? Laurent said that…” She might say more, but I can’t hear her as I take her in. Her hair is long and glossy, waving around her face and falling past her shoulders, her complexion almost peaches and cream, her makeup soft and subtle. She is wearing a little black dress and heels, her legs looking fucking fantastic, curves on display, and I finally take in a full breath. She was stunning before and is just as stunning now, but there’s a new confidence about her that’s noticeable in the way she’s carrying herself.

“Perfect. You look… perfect,” I say, rolling my shoulders. What the hell has gotten into me tonight?

Her lips part a little at my statement, her eyes searching mine, so I clear my throat, dismissing whatever thoughts and feelings are starting to whirl around my insides.

“Have a good time and text me when you get on the train,” Jillian says, and I frown.

“I will take you home,” I tell her firmly, and both women look at me.

“It’s a forty-minute train ride. I can take the train. Deloris will look after me,” Haylee says, checking the contents of her purse, not paying much attention to the conversation.

“We will probably be at the gallery for a while, and you are not taking the train at night.” While I haven’t personally taken the train in years, I know the subway at night is not the safest place.

“I will be fine,” Haylee says, looking up at me, confused, as her sister glances between the two of us.

“While I am sure Deloris will look after you, you are now my girlfriend, for all intents and purposes, and as such, a girlfriend of mine would not be taking the train, especially at night.”

“There is nothing wrong with the train.” Facing me completely, hands now on her hips, I see her sister step back a little. Will this woman do anything I ask of her?

“It isn’t safe,” I grit out, frustrated by her stubbornness.

“It's fine.” She tries to wave me off, like I am being silly.

“I have a lot of money, and people find creative ways to get it from me. Including targeting my staff, my friends, and my partners.” I don’t want to raise such an issue, but if it gets her to agree with me, then it is worth it.

“Are you saying I am in danger?” she asks, her voice wavering with alarm. Her sister’s now looking at me like she wants to gut me from nostril to navel.

“No. But I am saying people will be taking your photo tonight, and the news of us dating will be on social media in a matter of minutes of us arriving at the gallery. Paparazzi will follow us when we leave, and there is no way in hell I am dropping you off at the station to catch a fucking train home.” My voice rises a little, my breathing rapid. “A train isn’t safe for you, especially looking like that,” I add, looking her up and down, and her eyes widen.

“Hmmm, so he does have a bit of fire in him after all,” Jillian murmurs, and I scowl at her.

“Fine. Let’s just go,” Haylee says as she zips up her handbag.

“Don’t wait up,” she says to her sister, who follows us to the door to lock up.

“Oh, I will.” The two of them share a knowing look and a smile before I take her hand and lead her to the car. My fingers entwine with hers naturally, so much so, it isn’t until I notice Dan staring at where we are joined that I realize what I have done.

“Dan, this is Haylee. Haylee, Dan is my driver and will happily take you anywhere you need to go as well,” I tell her as Dan opens the back door and we slip into the back seat.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Haylee,” Dan says formally.

“You too, Dan,” Haylee quips, giving him a wide, beaming smile. My stomach coils a little at how easygoing she is with him, even though they just met.

“Straight to the gallery, please, Dan,” I say, and Dan nods, closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat, starting our journey to the gallery, which is only a few minutes away.

“Does everyone always do what you tell them to?” she asks, and I look over at her. She seems smaller in my car as she looks at me inquisitively. The city lights hit her glossy lips, and combined with her shiny hair, she is almost glowing.

“Usually,” I tell her honestly, feeling smug. “Have you always been so stubborn?” While my team all listen to me and do as I ask, so far, Haylee has pushed me at almost every encounter.

“You call it stubborn; I call it independent.” Her lips tip at the sides, and my jaw tenses.

“You don’t like to depend on people?” I ask, trying to pick up exactly what she is not saying.

“I don’t make a habit of it,” she replies too quickly, and I feel like I have hit a nerve.

“Me neither,” I admit.

“Well, there you go. We have something in common,” she teases, and my chest warms at the sound of her light laughter.

“Have you been to Maddison Miller before?” I ask. As an artist herself, I would assume she has visited all the museums and galleries New York has to offer.

“No. I mean, I love it. I walk past it almost weekly, but I have never been inside. Rumor is, the mob owns it,” she whispers, looking at me a little wide-eyed, and it isn’t far from the truth. Maddison Miller is married to Sebastian Romano, and he is the mob.

“Truth be told, they own a lot of the city.”

“They do?” she asks on a gasp, and my lips quirk a little at her innocence when it comes to New York business. It is a dog-eat-dog world, and just when you think you have a handle on it, it changes again. That is just another reason why I am so laser focused on making Jackson Enterprises a big success.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I own the other half.”

As the car pulls up, I already see a few media photographers at the front, waiting for the parade of people walking inside.

“Ready?” I ask her as I see her looking past me and out the window. She swallows some obvious nerves, and I wait until she nods.

“I’m ready,” she says, and I knock on the door. Dan opens it immediately, and as I step out, a few flashes go off, but then I lean in, offering her my hand.

“Come on, Sunflower, let's go.”

She places her soft hand in mine, and I hold on to her tight. As she steps out of the car to stand beside me, the flashes increase. I am often seen out with women, so it isn’t a surprise. But I don’t hold their hand. I usually walk first, and they follow behind. But I help Haylee out of the car, and together we walk in, side by side, before I pull her through the doors and she comes to an abrupt stop.

“Holy cow,” she breathes out, and I feel my lips quirk again. Seemingly a common occurrence around this woman.

“What do you think?” I murmur, pulling her into me and skirting my hand around her waist, resting it on her lower back. It feels comfortable, her body curving into my side just right. She looks up at me, a little startled, before her face changes slightly, like she is getting into character.

“This is amazing,” she says, and I am not sure if it is genuine or not, until I see her look around like she’s in a state of wonder. Immediately, I feel good for bringing her here. My dates usually consist of a boring dinner, mundane small talk, and a signed confidentiality agreement the next morning. Bringing a woman to an event like this is well outside of my usual. As we stand, I look around, admiring the room. I can see the time, money, and effort that has gone into it.

A waiter walks past, and I grab two glasses of champagne and hand her one.

“Shall we go take a look around?” I ask her as I notice a few people watching us, clearly wanting to see who I am with. Spotting a few business associates, I give them a curt nod in greeting.

“Yes. Oh, look, this is the work of Tom Hendrix,” Haylee says, looking at a photography display on the wall and walking to it as if a magnet draws her right in front of a portrait of a young man. There is a collection of them. All black-and-white photo portraits of various people, no one who is well-known. “See how he captures the reflections in their eyes.” It is a great shot. I don’t know anything about the photographer, but I look at the portraits and focus on their faces and see the display of their room reflected in their eyes. It is very clever.

“If you look at how everything is positioned, you can actually tell a lot about the subject. See here,” she says, pointing, and I step closer to her. My hand rests on her lower back, liking how soft she feels, keeping her close to me as I lean forward to where she is pointing. “You can see the apartment in the reflection of their pupils. A sofa, the television is on, kids’ toys on the ground.” She is right; you can see everything, yet had I come here tonight by myself, I would not have even noticed.

“ The Simpsons ,” I say, and she looks at me.

“What?” she asks with that cute pinch to her eyebrows. We are close, an inch or two apart, and my gaze flicks down to her lips before I force it back to her eyes. “They are watching The Simpsons ,” I explain, and she looks back at the photo and grins.

“That they are,” she says, nodding before we move across to the next one and dissect that as well. I start to relax a little. With each photo we admire, she becomes more and more animated, and my hand doesn’t move from her back. Keeping her close to me is what is required, I remind myself, regardless of how comfortable it actually feels. We finish up at the photography wall, then we move on to another artist farther down the back of the gallery. Tonight's show is a montage of artists, from painting, sculpting, and photography. Each of them owns their own small piece of real estate. Maddison is known for finding unknown artists and throwing the spotlight on them. She has made many careers.

“Ohhhh, wow,” Haylee says, and I look up to see which one has her attention. It is a large framed painting of a landscape. It has many layers to it, a soft color palette, almost every color a pastel.

“You like it?” I ask, not sure if it is my thing.

“It’s amazing. Look at the brushstrokes here.” Stepping forward and pointing, she highlights the artwork. As she does, my hand falls from her waist, but she runs hers down my arm, putting her hand in mine. I curl my fingers around hers, her hand soft and small in my own. As she talks again about the brushstrokes, I am not entirely listening as I watch her eyes come alive, her breathing becoming rapid with excitement as her fingers squeeze mine with every little movement. She is smiling as she talks, the topic bringing extra life to her body, and I step closer to her, just wanting to be in her orbit.

“What do you think?” she asks me, and I shake my head a little, trying to get my mind back on the artwork and away from her. “I appreciate art, but I am clearly not the connoisseur you are. Your landscape in the toy store was better in my opinion, though,” I tell her honestly as I hear her inhale a sharp breath as she looks up at me. I move my hand from her grip and wrap it back around her waist, pulling her closer to me again, liking the feel of her body against mine.

“Hmmm, I have been watching you…” a female voice says from our side, and I look up.

“Good to see you, Maddison,” I say, shaking her hand and immediately looking behind her. “Nice to see you too, Sebastian.” Offering my outstretched hand, he takes it in a firm grip. He is never far away from her; his protectiveness of his wife runs deep. The whole city knows it.

“Alexander, who have you brought tonight?” Maddison practically gleams at Haylee.

“This is Haylee Tucker. Haylee, this is Maddison Miller,” I introduce them, and for the first time, I see Haylee absolutely lost for words. I slide my hand from her lower back until I find her hand, giving her a squeeze of support.

“Hi. So great to meet you. I just love your gallery,” Haylee gushes, and I grin, looking at Sebastian who is watching Haylee with interest. I swallow, because Haylee doesn't need to be associated with the mob, so the less he knows about her, the better. But as I take a quick look around, I see most people’s eyes on us. Although that was the aim of coming here tonight, I feel less okay with that fact as the date progresses.

“Oh, thank you. I have been watching you dissect all the artwork as you walk around. Are you an artist?” Maddison asks her, and I think I see a faint pink tint to Haylee’s cheeks.

“No. I mean, yes… I dabble… kind of.” Her words stumble over each other as she grabs her ear subtly. From what I have seen, her artwork is amazing, yet she doesn’t seem overly confident about it.

“Haylee is a painter,” I say proudly, and her eyes shoot at me as she takes a deep breath. I nod to her, trying to encourage her to shoot her shot.

“I paint for fun, mostly. I like photorealism,” she says, and Maddison looks impressed.

“I would love to see some of your work. Are you showing anywhere?” she asks, and Haylee huffs a laugh.

“No, although maybe at the local flea market soon,” she says offhandedly.

“Well, maybe you can bring in some of your work sometime? I would love to see it. Photorealism is really taking off at the moment, but I haven’t found anyone yet who hits the mark I’m looking for,” Maddison offers.

“Oh, I would love that,” Haylee says, the grip on her ear not failing, her lobe now bright red.

“Come. Tell me what you think of this piece.” Maddison grabs Haylee by the elbow, steering her away from me and over to the next piece. I fall in line with Sebastian, and we follow them as people look on. I don’t make a habit of networking with the mob, but we are known to each other, and all our dealings have been amicable.

“Word on the street is that you are looking into Asia for advancement next year,” Sebastian says, getting straight down to business.

“I’m looking at a lot of options,” I tell him, my eyes not wavering from Haylee, not wanting her too far from me in this crowd. Everyone looks amazing, some dripping in diamonds, the ladies all dressed up, the men suited. But a crowd like this is full of sharks, just waiting for fresh blood, which is exactly what Haylee is. There is media everywhere, not to mention the usual flock of socialites who will spread any rumor they wish to suit their own agenda.

“Your father was always keen to invest locally,” he says, and I frown.

“I didn’t know you knew my father.” Of course they probably had some contact. I would be gullible to think otherwise, but we never had dealings with the mob, and it isn’t something I am thinking of starting.

“I did. I did, indeed,” Sebastian comments, nodding, and something about the way he says that makes me feel uneasy.

“He casts a large shadow, that’s for sure,” I admit. I sigh as I feel the familiar pressure on my shoulders of doing more, being more, and succeeding more in order to keep my father’s legacy intact.

“Parents often do. But we need to run our own race. Do what is right for us and our time. I learned that the hard way.”

While I remain quiet, I think about his words. It is no secret that he overthrew his father in what I can only assume was a hard fight, both mentally and physically. But it isn’t my place to have an opinion.

“Looks like you might be investing in toys…” He drops the words, and my blood runs cold. Why he would know who Haylee is, I’m not sure. But the fact is, he knows, and I don’t like it.

“Jackson Enterprises invests in a lot of places,” I say, not giving anything away, and Sebastian smirks.

“She looks like a pocket rocket. I’d say a good investment for you.” Slapping my arm, he gives me a grin as he steps away. I relax a little before I look back at Haylee and watch her chatting animatedly with Maddison, the two of them smiling as they dissect the artwork.

I take a sip of the champagne in my hand as I watch the two women, as most in the room is, before I feel someone come up to my side.

“Alexander,” a female voice purrs, and I turn to see a woman I dated briefly last year. Jennifer something or other.

“Evening,” I say, nodding and stepping away slightly. I am all too familiar with the media and how they set up their shots. And a few of them are circling.

“It’s been a long time. I haven’t seen you out in a while. How have you been?” She looks me up and down, licking her lips slightly, which I’m sure she thinks is attractive.

“Alex. You need to come and look at this piece,” Haylee says, walking up to me, her smile wide and eyes glistening. She slides her body in between me and Jennifer, and I open my arm up, accepting her into my side where she is starting to fit too comfortably. Jennifer's face sours immediately at the interruption.

“Oh, hi. I don’t think we have met. I’m Haylee.” She smiles as I run my hand around her waist and pull her into my side a little tighter. The move feels better each time. Jennifer’s scrunched expression looks like she smells something off as she stares at Haylee’s hand before giving it a lifeless shake.

“Jennifer… I’m a friend of Alexander’s.”

I squeeze Haylee’s waist, keeping her close. Scared she is going to make a run for it already. It is no secret I am a bit of a playboy, so meeting my past partners was always in the cards. But while I haven’t cared before, now that Haylee is with me, I feel slight remorse.

“Great. It is so nice to finally meet Alex’s friends,” Haylee says sweetly, and I bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t grin my ass off. It is clear Haylee is marking her territory, and I’m enjoying the crackling atmosphere. “But if you will excuse us for a moment, I really want him to see this piece of art over here.” Having staked her claim, Haylee starts to walk away, holding my hand as I walk alongside her.

I nod a goodbye to Jennifer, not understanding what I ever saw in her.

“Good move, Sunflower,” I murmur to Haylee as we maneuver through the crowd to the next wall over.

“Well, I could see that might be an issue. Besides, I really did want to show you a piece over here. Come look.” Her grin is genuine as she pulls me along until we come to a stop, right near a piece that appears to be a mix of abstract, pop art, and graffiti.

“What do you think?” she asks as I take in the enormous amount of color in front of me.

“It’s bright,” I admit, wanting to take my time to see it how she sees it. My initial thoughts are that it is too much. I can’t see the appeal, but I try to refocus my eyes and look at the image rather than the brightness that pops out at me. Something like this would look amazing in my Hamptons house.

“And?” She wiggles my hand for more feedback, and I take a breath as I concentrate. I haven’t had this much fun on a date ever, and I like how she makes me think and look at things in a different light.

“And… unusual…” I see it then. It is a collage of toys. From a small teddy bear, a doll, a train set, and what looks to be a jack-in-the-box. “Toys,” I say, looking at the detail work, my eyes squinting slightly, wanting to capture the entirety of it. It is very clever. On first look, it just appears a mess of things, but when you really admire it, and see the way they all mash together, a whole world comes to life.

“Toys,” she says with a giddy nod. I feel like I passed a test. “Isn’t it great? So clever.”

“You like it?” I ask her, knowing by the look in her eyes she does.

“I love it. I mean, toys have been my life since I was born. Plus, it is just so fun in all these bright colors.” Leaning down to look at the price, the color drains from her face.

I see one of the staff members nearby with a tablet and catch her eye, nodding once, just before Haylee comes back to my side.

“Wow. Maybe I really should be selling my paintings at the market on a weekend. It’s like fifty thousand dollars,” she whispers to me as the staff member comes over and places a red dot on the artwork, indicating it’s sold.

“Oh, well, at least someone gets to enjoy it.” She shrugs, smiling up at me, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I’m feeling all too good as my lips curl up.