The Marriage Mistake

Chapter Sixteen

Max looked up at the sign over the trendy gallery in SoHo.

Carina’s name was scrawled in fancy calligraphy, and cheery white lights strung around the outside of the space caught the attention of onlookers. He dragged in a lungful of air and hoped he had enough strength to get through the evening.

The invitation to her first show was both startling and ironic. Pride choked him. His talented, beautiful wife finally knew her worth and he wasn’t here to celebrate with her. But he couldn’t deny the need to see her one more time in her glory. Needed to lay his gaze on her work, while he remembered making love to her in the workroom as he covered her in chocolate body paint.

His gut coiled into a solid ball of regret.

Max opened the door and walked in.

The space was large and open, with wide pillars naturally separating the room into quadrants. A full bar and cocktail waiters strolled around giving out champagne, wine, and a variety of appetizers. Crowds milled around in various groups, chatting and laughing as they made their way around the room. His gaze went directly to the right corner, almost as if he scented her presence.

She threw back her head and laughed at something a man said. Her long black dress shimmered under the light. Her dark curls were pinned up high on her head and tamed, but Max knew one slide of the pin would make that silky mess tumble over her shoulders in wild abandon. Her eyes glowed with an inner joy and confidence he’d never seen before.

Yes. She was happy without him.

Choking back his emotion, he turned away and walked to the first display.

Shock held him immobile.

He expected portraits with heart and soul, an easy warmth she always translated in the few pieces of her work he’d been lucky enough to see. These seemed like they were from a different artist.

Raw and gritty, shadowed in black, gray, and an occasional slice of red, the couples on the canvas were displayed in different erotic poses. A woman arched against the wall as her lover pressed his lips to her naked breasts. The bodies pulsed with an earthy sensuality but teetered right on the border, as the window sketched on the right seemed to be a mirror between privacy and the outside world. The onlooker seemed almost a voyeur to the scene, stretching the mind enough so one needed to keep looking at the painting.

As Max moved from one to another, the couple seemed caught in a web of the relationship. One canvas sketched out the vulnerability and want on the woman’s face as she gazed at her lover. His harsh profile showed nothing but hard lines and a steely resolve. Another detailed the couple with foreheads touching, lips a whisper away, eyes hooded from the viewer so he was forced to imagine what they were thinking.

Max gazed at each painting with a hunger he rarely felt. The work was extraordinary, and he realized his wife’s talent crackled with a passion and depth that could rock the entire art world. He was looking at the beginning of a long, successful career. No wonder Sawyer sounded so excited. He’d discovered the latest hot new artist on the block.

People swarmed around him and tried to engage him in conversation. Waiters stopped and asked if he needed anything. He never answered. Just soaked up her work and felt as if he knew the last secret part of her soul she kept hidden. Now, it revealed itself in full naked glory.

Dio, he loved her.

He arrived early to make sure he avoided Alexa, Nick, Michael, and Maggie. His plan was ridiculous and all male. Sneak in, see her work, torture himself, and sneak back out. Go home and get rip-roaring drunk with his dog at his feet.

“Max?”

Her voice rang in his ears. Husky like Eve. Sweet like an angel. He clenched his teeth and turned.

She smiled at him with such warmth he thought he’d get sunburn. Primitive need wracked through him like convulsions but he fought it off and managed to smile back. “Hi, Carina.”

“You came.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I had to see.”

Why did she look at him with such greed? To torture him? “I’m glad. What did you think?”

His voice ripped from his throat. “They are . . . everything.”

She blinked as if fighting tears, and another piece of his heart tore off. He’d have nothing left by the end of the conversation. “You didn’t see the final one. It’s back here under a separate display.”

“I can’t, Carina. I have to go.”

“No! Please, Max. I need to show you.”

Was this what love felt like? A wrenching pain that pushed you underwater like a riptide and refused to let you surface? He swallowed back his second protest and nodded. “Okay.”

He followed her toward the back of the room and up a few steps. The gallery opened up to a showcase under a spotlight. The painting hung from the ceiling in single splendor. Max took a step forward and looked up.

It was him.

The title boldly slashed across the top: Maximus. Bare-chested. Barefoot. Jeans riding low on hips. Features half blurred and cast in shadow, he stared straight into the onlooker’s eyes and held his gaze. A swirling array of emotions ravaged his face, his eyes a storm of such power Max was rocked to the core. He saw everything in that glance. Vulnerability. Determination. A hint of arrogance. Need. And an ability to love.

His heart squeezed. He turned.

Carina stood before him, those inky eyes full of adoration and love and a strength he’d never seen. “I love you, Max. I’ve always loved you, but I needed to love me before I could give you what you need. I don’t know if it’s too late, but I promise if you give me another chance, I’ll stand by your side and be the woman you deserve. Because I am that woman. The other half of your soul. The question was never will I come back to you. The question is, will you come back to me?”

Joy exploded and pumped through his veins. He gave a half laugh and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve never left, cara.”

He claimed her mouth and kissed her deeply, tenderly, as if they sealed their vows from that Vegas wedding months ago.

Suddenly, the family of his heart surrounded him. Max got pulled into a tight circle while Michael and Nick pounded his back and Alexa and Maggie wiped away tears.

He was finally, truly, home.

“About time you got back together.” Alexa sniffled. “We couldn’t stand the drama any longer. Friday nights were beginning to suck.”

Max held Carina tight to his side and laughed. “We’ll clear that up this week. Party at our house.”

The consultant hurried over and broke through the line. His normally staid expression slipped. “Umm, Carina, can I talk to you a sec?”

“Sure.” She kissed Max hard on the lips and stepped away. After a whispered conversation, she returned with a dazed look. “I sold out.”

Max grinned. “I’m not surprised. Your work blew me away. But we better get started—you’re going to have to paint a lot more and I need to give you inspiration.”

She giggled and buried her fingers in his hair. “Bring it,” she whispered.

Max looked at the woman he loved. His wife. His soul mate. His forever.

“Let’s go home.”

She lay in a tangle of sheets, exhuasted, sated, and happier than she’d ever been.

“Finally ready to call uncle?”

Carina raised her head one inch off the pillow and collapsed back. “Never. I just need a minute.”

He laughed low and slid off the bed. She heard footsteps pad to the walk-in closet, then come back. His musky scent rose to her nostrils and made her stir again. Damned if her husband hadn’t made her into a nympho, and she loved every moment.

“I have a present for you.”

That made her sit up. The girly part of her melted at the idea of her husband buying her a gift. “You do?”

“Yeah. I was saving it. Hoping you’d come back and I’d be able to give it to you.”

The rectangular box was wrapped in bold red paper. She bit her lip in pleasure and stared at the box. “What is it?”

“Open it, babe.”

She ripped at the paper like a kid on Christmas and lifted the lid.

Sucked in her breath.

A pair of shoes lay in the white tissue paper. Not just any shoes. These were four-inch stiletto heels lined in diamonds. Made of pure glass.

She lifted one up in the air and watched the gems sparkle. The peekaboo toe gave the shoes a flirty sexiness, and the delicate glass felt smooth to the touch. “My God, Max, you outdid yourself. They’re beautiful.”

“You told me once you never got the happily-ever-after you always wanted. I thought I’d try making up for it by giving you a real pair of Cinderella shoes.”

Tears prickled her lids and she sniffed. “Damn you, Maximus Gray. Who would’ve thought there was all this mushy romance hidden under that exterior?”

“I love you, Carina.”

“I love you, too.”

He pressed his forehead to his wife’s and vowed to never make her doubt his feelings again.