2.0 The Chronicles of Us - Shame & Blame

Chapter seventeen

*♡ Ellie ♡*

Sexy black mini-dress or something a little safer? 

The tight number is made for a game of seduction and since that's not what I'm aiming for, I go for the satin cocktail dress. It's classy with a twist around the drape. I don't bother with too much makeup. Just a touch of mascara and some colorless gloss.

Jonathan didn't tell me anything about Nathan—my date for the evening—apart from the fact that he will pick me up at nine. I'm not sure how to feel about tonight.

Am I excited?

Nervous?

I'd say yes to both, but that has more to do with my introduction to Mr. Harling. I did my research, as Jonathan so kindly suggested. Edgar is a self-made millionaire with an eye for unique pieces. All the art he showcases in his gallery is layered with meaning. Ordinary is not in his vocabulary. I doubt my work will catch his fancy, but it can't hurt to have a chat.

I fuss around the house while the last half an hour ticks away, and when the clock strikes nine, the doorbell rings. Well, at least he's punctual. I slip on the only heels I own and then wobble down the stairs to open the door.

Ay, caramba!

The man before me looks like some fairytale prince. An adult fairytale, perhaps. Thick black hair reaches his nape, the shadow of a beard adorns his strong jaw and his tailored black suit complements his powerful physique.

Nathan's eyes sweep over my figure. "Jonathan wasn't lying, you are truly stunning."

I scratch my elbow awkwardly. "Thank you. It's nice to meet you."

Instead of accepting my held out hand, he lifts it to his mouth and presses a featherlight kiss on my knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, Ellie."

The way my name rolled off his tongue must be the stuff of naughty dreams, but I can't even muster a coy blush. Maybe I'm unfixable. Maybe I'm afraid of repairs.

He leads me to an extravagant car with tinted windows. His personal driver gives me a polite nod through the rear-view mirror. Handsome and rich ... why on earth is he spending the evening with silly old me?

Small-talk proves to be a chore. To me, at least. It's not because I'm shy, it's just that I have nothing to say to this stranger. Still, I'm not a rude person. "So—uhm—how do you know Jonathan?"

He turns to me, sliding a little into my space. "We're acquainted through the museum. I'm an art dealer. Naturally, I spend a fair amount of time around paintings and such. Jonathan may have offered me somewhat of a discount on a very valuable sketch he's been hiding, if I agreed to chaperon you."

Traded like a country fair cow.

Perhaps, I should be offended, but I can only chuckle. "It sounds like I'm the unwanted part of the deal."

His gaze intensifies. "Believe me, if he was a better sales man, I would've paid triple just to know your name. I recognize a fine piece of ... art when I see it."

He's a smooth talker, but I took a liking to rough edges. Tex had a way of saying the sweetest things by using vulgar words. He was blunt and forward but more importantly, he was honest.

As always, thinking about Tex causes my mood to plummet. I stay silent during the remainder of the ride and pretend to observe the passing buildings. No need for my date to know that I'm thinking of my heart's desire.

Let him go.

He's not yours anymore.

He has moved on.