The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

It wasn’t his fault, not really. If Sinclair had wanted me, he would have succeeded with or without Cage’s protests. In fact, I was about eighty-five percent sure that he had paid that guy to start a fight with my cute dance partner just to get him off me.

“You shouldn’t have left him that last night.”

My head jerked sharply over to him, my mouth slack.

Was he really bringing up Mexico in front of my entire family?

A quick look of the table confirmed that no one was listening, and that Elena was affectionately fixing Sinclair’s tie, but I still lowered my voice when I hissed, “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

Cage ceased pretending to care about the menu and looked me straight in the eye. “It is you who has no idea what you could have had.”

Before I could question him further, the waiter arrived to take our orders.

“Giselle wants to paint the family nude,” Elena said before the server was even out of earshot.

My eyes were hot with embarrassment but I tilted my chin up and tried to pretend she didn’t make me feel like some kind of pervert.

“Oh?”

Oh? I glared at Sinclair. Really? All I get from the art connoisseur and ex-lover is a stupid, oh?

“Can I preorder those?” Cage asked innocently, speaking to me but looking at my older sister.

“Well, at least you know Cage will pose for you,” she sneered.

“Yes, you might not believe it, but I look even better naked.”

Sebastian leaned forward to pound fists with him, the movie star and the rock star bonding over their mutual self-love. It was almost adorable.

“I want to showcase sexuality,” I tried to explain the idea that had come to me, fully formed, last night in the dirty wake of passion I had wallowed in after Sinclair left. “Those stolen, private moments that people are the most afraid to share.”

“Interesting,” Sinclair said. “Could you give us some examples?”

Elena

frowned at him but I continued on, “Okay. An older woman propping her breasts up nostalgically, the press of a foot against an erection and the fetishism of it, or maybe a woman alone in a bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror as she masturbates.”

Sinclair’s eyes were on me. I could feel them roll off my face to the flushed skin of my chest like cold marbles.

“It will be tasteful, obviously,” I hastened to add. “The point isn’t the nudity or the sex, it’s the vulnerability and the shame that stems from a person’s most private desires.”

I knew all too well the shame of desire. I could feel it like a punching glove to the heart every time I looked at Sinclair.

Everyone waited, looking at Sinclair, the man who owned a prestigious art gallery, a man whose opinion they would trust implicitly. I realized for the first time that I should have been anxious about impressing him because he was, in a sense, my boss in addition to my clandestine paramour.

I looked up, ready to face judgment, and our eyes locked with an audible click.

“Have you heard of Aleah Chapin? We hosted her at the gallery and her work explores mature women in the nude. It’s an interesting take, definitely a feminist one, and it has stirred a lot of interest in the art world.” He paused and a flicker of something like a smile teased the corners of his mouth. “I believe your show would stir a lot more than ‘interest’. In fact, I believe you will have people lusting after your paintings faster than you can possibly produce them.”

I smiled so hard that my cheeks hurt. “You really think so?”

He nodded curtly. “Without doubt.”

Cosima clapped her hands together. “Of course, they will! Our bambina is beautiful and talented.”

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. “You know, if you want to paint the family, would you be interested in including other famous people? I know a few actors who would be interested in posing for something like this.”

My mouth dropped open in shock and he laughed at me. “Close your mouth, bambina, it is no sure thing.”