Brush Strokes: A Sweet & Spicy Menage Romance by Rebecca Rathe

Author:Rebecca Rathe [Rathe, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rebecca Rathe LLC
Published: 2024-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Ezra

I stand outside the gallery, rain beating heavily on my umbrella. I’m thankful that the date I have planned for us is indoors, but I’m still incredibly nervous.

What if she hates it? What if it’s too much?

Physically shaking out my shoulders and stretching my neck, I take a deep breath and enter The Gregg.

Holy hell, Beth wasn’t kidding. This is a shit show.

Everything around me is so bright, pastel, and very fake looking. There are different areas set up, each with a more sickening theme. At the front of each area is a tripod, and there are baskets of selfie-sticks set up.

“Do you like it?” A voice calls out to me, sultry, but in a forced way. A tall blonde wearing a red patent leather minidress and towering heels stalks over to me. Cherith.

I clear my throat, trying to be polite. “It’s definitely something. What is it meant for, exactly?”

It’s clear that this isn’t an art exhibit. I’m not sure I understand the premise Beth had mentioned when she was venting about the downturn her beloved gallery had taken.

“It’s a social media club. People come here to hang out and take photos for Instagram, Tumblr, stuff like that. There’s one in Japan just like it. It’s very popular,” she assures me.

I suppose I can see what she’s trying to achieve, although the whole thing feels very forced and artificial, much like the woman standing before me.

“We weren’t expecting you today, Mr. Beckett. Is there something I can do for you?” Her words are laced with seduction, but rather than turning me on, it turns my stomach. I never could stand this woman. And knowing how poorly she’s treated Beth, taking advantage of her hard work, makes her plain ugly to me.

“I sincerely doubt it,” I say flatly. “I’m actually looking for Beth.”

“Beth?” she spits out the word like its poison.

“Yes, Beth.”

When she doesn’t answer, staring at me incredulously, I get annoyed and start channeling my inner Cal. “Gorgeous brunette, curves for days? Does most of the work around here?”

Cherith sneers. “You’re kidding me, right? First Callaghan Flynn, then you, too? What is happening here?”

“I’m sure it’s none of your business,” I say flatly. “Is she here?” I start walking towards the back room, where I know she has an office.

“You know she’s fucking Callaghan, right?”

I spin on my heel and look at her, wishing I could shoot daggers from my eyes. “Whatever Miss Heaton and Mr. Flynn do in their spare time is, again, none of your business. But since you find it prudent to speak so inappropriately, not only to a major benefactor of this gallery, but about good friends of mine, let me tell you this—”

“Mr. Beckett! How lovely to see you! Cherith, could you please see to the phone call on line one? I’ll take care of Mr. Beckett here.”

Bobby Vandreth, playboy loser with more money than sense, looks pointedly at Cherith before directing his attention to me. He’s looking a little worse for wear, one of his eyes red and swollen.

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