His hand was broad enough that, when he reached out, it shielded most of Ivy’s face, blocking her view entirely.
A tremor ran through her–she couldn’t tell if it was because he understood her so well, or because of the unexpected tenderness in his gesture.
Katrina, hearing the commotion, turned back. The scene made her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help but blurt out, “Dr. Ludwig, this painting-”
“Katrina!” Ivy interrupted sharply, cutting her off just in time.
Katrina’s mouth snapped shut as she remembered she wasn’t supposed to say anything.
Jamison glanced at her, his tone curious. “What about this painting, Katrina?”
Thinking quickly, Katrina improvised, “It’s just… this piece is so heavy. It’s probably not the best thing for Ivy to see right now.”
He nodded, dropping his hand from Ivy’s eyes and gently taking her arm. “Come on. Let’s check out something else.”
This time, Ivy didn’t resist. She let him lead her away.
She’d painted that piece in an attempt to confront the trauma and darkness inside her a way to heal and move forward with her life. But now, standing before it again, all those memories came rushing back: the pain, the despair, the suffocating weight of it all. Clearly, she wasn’t as ready to leave the past behind as she’d hoped.
At that moment, her hatred for Emma and the traffickers surged all over again.
Jamison noticed her silence, her heavy expression. Even after they’d walked a few steps away, he glanced back at the painting, lost in thought.
Several other visitors lingered before the artwork, faces somber as they wrestled with the emotional impact of what they saw.
Sawyer had been trailing quietly beside them. Jamison turned to him. “Are you the curator
here?”
Sawyer nodded politely. “I’m actually just one of the organizers.”
He reached into his pocket and handed Jamison a business card. “Mr. Ludwig, it’s a pleasure. If you ever have time, I’d love for you to visit my gallery.”
Sawyer knew men like Jamison–old money, taste for the arts. When someone like that bought a property, they’d casually drop a few million on art for the walls. It paid to make the right connections.
Jamison glanced at the card, eyebrow arching. “You’re Sawyer Leroux?”
A familiar name: a major player in the art world, a renowned collector.
“That’s me,” Sawyer replied with a courteous smile. “I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.”
Jamison pocketed the card, then shot Ivy a curious look before turning back to Sawyer, his tone dismissive. “I’ll be looking after her, Sawyer. Go ahead and take care of your business.”
Sawyer caught the hint and backed off immediately. “Of course. Enjoy the exhibit. Please let met know if you need anything.”
With that, he turned and left.
Ivy glared at Jamison, her voice sharp. “Who told you to send my friend away?”
Jamison, completely unapologetic, shot back, “How do you even know someone like Sawyer from the collector’s circle? What’s your relationship with him?”
“And why shouldn’t I know him?” Ivy replied coolly. “If I hadn’t been missing for those three years, my connections would be just as impressive as yours–if not more.” Her words carried the unmistakable confidence of someone who’d once ruled the social scene.
Jamison nodded, conceding the point. “True enough. You were Neo Haven’s number–one socialite. I heard the line of men trying to date you could stretch to the moon.”
Ivy rolled her eyes.
“1 “1
…
He fixed her with a look. “You’re not interested in him, are you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“How is it not my business? I’m courting you.” He sounded so matter–of–fact, then added bluntly, “Besides, that guy–he’s not even sure what side he’s on. Just gives me the creeps. You should steer clear.”
Ivy shot him a frosty glare. “Can’t you try being a little nicer?”
“Have you ever heard me say anything nice?”
“…Fair point.” She was left speechless. The man was a master of sharp tongues–he didn’t even spare his own nephew.
Seeing her at a loss for words, Jamison grinned. “I’m ruthless, even with myself. What hope does a rival have?”
Ivy rolled her eyes. “At least you’re self–aware.”
He softened a little, a rare note of affection in his voice. “But you’ll be the exception.”
She blinked, thrown. “Exception to what?”
“I’ll be nice to you. Only good things from now on.”
“Hah, as if I care.” Ivy scoffed and pulled her arm away.
But Jamison caught up, refusing to back down. “You still haven’t answered my question. What’s
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the deal with you and that long–haired guy? Is he a threat to me?”
“Ivy-”
“He’s just a friend, all right?” Jamison’s persistence finally wore her down. “Nothing more.”
Satisfied, Jamison smiled and reached for her hand again. “Come on, let’s finish the exhibit together.”
“I don’t need you to.”
“But I need you.”
“Jamison-!”
“Shh… quiet. People are staring.”
Ivy looked around–sure enough, plenty of people were watching them with curious eyes.
Utterly exasperated.
Give it a few days and every gossip in Neo Haven’s high society would be whispering about her and Jamison. Like it or not, accept it or not, she was about to be branded as “Jamison’s
woman.”
After a lovely half–day at the museum, just as lunchtime approached, Ivy and Katrina prepared
to leave.
But as they stepped outside, two familiar faces appeared in their path.
Ivy’s good mood vanished instantly.
Rosetta and Emma.
No doubt Baillie had told the family she’d run into Ivy at the museum, and they’d rushed over to intercept her.
She’d already been the center of attention once today–she had zero desire for more drama. Spotting them, Ivy’s face went blank as she detoured around them without a word.