For 100 Days (100 1)

“Nick,” I murmur, and it astonishes me that just the sound of his name on my tongue is enough to make me recall every delicious detail of our conversation that night at the gallery and the hours of skin-on-skin communication that followed at his place. “His name is Nick Baine.”

Her smile falters, but it’s so subtle I almost miss it. Almost.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry, it’s just . . .” She lifts her shoulders in a faint shrug. “It’s nothing. I mean, I don’t think you’re asking for my advice, right?”

That is so not what I want to hear. My stomach bottoms out at the cautious way she phrases her reply. The troubled flicker in her gaze doesn’t help either.

“So, you’re telling me you know Nick?”

“Of course, I know him.” Her voice is tentative, trailing off quietly. I spot tenderness in her eyes—the hesitance of a friend who’s reluctant to hurt me, yet who can’t stand by and watch me stumble. “Avery, I work for Dominic Baine. He owns this gallery.”

“Dominion belongs to him?” I hear the wooden quality of my voice. The confusion I’m unable to conceal.

Margot nods. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you that.”

“No, he didn’t.”

I don’t know why I should be so surprised. Nick’s obviously incredibly wealthy, and well-versed in art. An admirer, so he told me himself. The fact that he would own a gallery shouldn’t make my temples pound and my breath constrict in my chest.

And it wouldn’t, if he owned any other gallery than this one.

If he wasn’t the reason my own pieces were pulled from display to make room for other, more deserving artists. Was he aware of that when we talked in front of Beauty? When we fucked most of the night and then again the next morning? Was he only pretending he didn’t know damn well who I was?

He’s a shrewdly intelligent man. I don’t imagine much of an

ything gets past him. Right now, I can hardly say the same for myself.

Humiliation burns my throat, but being played for a fool is only part of my disappointment. I’m angry too. For letting myself fall so easily into whatever game he thinks he’s playing. For letting him draw me so effortlessly into his bed.

Most of all, I’m furious that he’s lied to me—whether by omission or evasion. Can I trust anything he’s said or done? Now, I’ll never be sure.

And yes, I recognize the irony of my outrage. After all, I’ve given him little more than lies either.

I pull myself out of the dark spiral of my thoughts to glance at Margot. “If I did ask, what kind of advice would you give me about Nick?”

I’ve caught her off guard. She swallows, then licks her red-glossed lips and slowly shakes her head. “It’s not my place,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“Margot.” I reach out, placing my hand on her shoulder. “What do I need to know about him?”

She holds my stare for a long moment, indecision clouding her deep brown eyes. Finally, she blows out a long sigh. “Just . . . be careful, Avery. That’s all. Dominic Baine’s not like other men you may know. He’s not like Jared.”

“In what way?” I need to know, but I’m not sure she’ll give me the truth. I can practically feel her discomfort with this turn in the conversation. It’s in the wariness of her expression, the hitch of her shallow breaths. “Margot, please. Tell me.”

Her mouth compresses and gives a vague shake of her head. “He’s damaged, Avery. Deeply. I don’t know how or why. I don’t think anyone can say they really know him. He doesn’t allow it. Anyone I’ve seen try has been cut loose swiftly and banished from his life without a speck of remorse.”

As she speaks, I’m astonished to detect the traces of an old wound in her normally calm and cool gaze. I want to press her about what else she knows about Nick—and how—but I’m not sure I really care to know the answer.

Then she blinks and the illusion of pain I thought I saw in her eyes vanishes. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I nod, uncertain what the appropriate response might be to her warning or her intimate insight into Nick, which I can only assume comes from personal experience. How had he hurt Margot? How many others has he cast aside, banished, when they tried to get too close? I feel certain there are many.

Just as I feel certain I will be next, unless I make every effort to steer clear of him.

Chapter 15

“Hang on, Miss Avery. Let me help you with those.”