Rebel Roused (Untamed #5) (11 page)

“W
hat do you guys think?” I took a step back and surveyed the studio. “Are we ready or what?”

Fourteen screaming kids tackle-hugged me, bringing me crashing down to the floor.

“Okay, okay!” I laughed, extending my arms out in an attempt to hug them all back. “I think that means we’re a go for the show tomorrow afternoon. If you haven’t invited all your friends and family members yet, make sure you give them a call tonight. But, for now, it’s time to close the art studio.” I struggled to my feet, little Jasmine still clinging to my neck. “Jazzy, I’ll be back tomorrow. I promise,” I said as I squatted down in front of her. “Your mom is going to be so proud of your paintings. You’ve worked so hard on them, and it shows.”

The kids filed out, smiling and waving, as they all called out their goodbyes. I took one last look around the room and grinned. They’d done such amazing work, accomplished so much over the past few weeks. The room looked incredible. All of the art was exhibited professionally—countless colorful pieces lined the edges of the room. We’d spent the afternoon transforming the plain common room into a gallery, clearing out chairs and tables, hanging framed drawings and paintings on the wall, arranging sculptures to best show off their beauty, and then adding labels to identify the artists.

I was so freaking proud of these kids and what they’d accomplished, my heart was bursting with happiness. All I wanted to do was run home and tell Dare all about it. Or better yet, sneak him in here so I could show it to him right away.

But he was working on his latest painting, and I didn’t want to disturb his peace when he was in the zone. Plus, he would be coming to the show tomorrow night.

And, unfortunately for me, I had somewhere to be. My parents were in need of yet another boundaries talk. Just the thought of having to spend the next hour with them set me off. I had no doubt they’d purposefully planned to be out of town when the wedding announcement ran in hopes that I’d have cooled down by the time they got back. Hell, deep down in her deranged mind, my mother had probably assumed I would “come my senses” and let them hijack my wedding.

Too bad for her.

Dare had offered to come with me and stand by my side as I reamed them out, but his presence wasn’t necessary. This was my fight, and I was stronger now than I had been the last time I’d seen them. Plus, I was already in Manhattan, and he really needed to paint. He’d been working so hard, finding new models, trying to build up his portfolio again, and I wasn’t going to let anything get in his way.

Honestly, I loved what he was doing. His new style was looser and wilder than before—harder lines, softer shadows, more vibrant colors. Something about his new technique—though I couldn’t quite pinpoint
what
—made it appear as if his subjects were actually living and breathing on the canvas.

Yes. That was exactly it. His paintings were full of life, brimming with magic. More so than they’d ever been before. They had hope. You could almost hear the thoughts of each model.

The art was breathtakingly fresh and I had no doubt that he was on the verge of hitting it big. He just needed the right venue, the right opportunity, the right gallery show. First, though, he needed the paintings.

So while he worked, I grabbed a cab and headed for the hell that was New York’s Upper East Side.

I had a whole speech planned out by the time I was in the elevator. And when the doors opened, I stalked out with my chin held high, my movement fueled by anger and determination.

But the sight in front of me stopped me in my tracks.

The entire penthouse was lit up with twinkling, white lights. Soft classical music filtered out into the hallway, accompanied by laughter and the clinking of glasses. People dressed in their fanciest holiday outfits roamed in and out of the entryway, and I could spot the edge of a huge Christmas tree towering over everyone in the ballroom.

The scene hit me square in the face, but it took a moment for it all to sink in.

My parents’ annual holiday party.

And, fucking hell, they’d tricked me into showing up.

At least I took a little pleasure in the fact that I stood there in the midst of all those designer dresses and suits in paint-splattered, dust-covered jeans and a no-name, red cowl-necked sweater. I started to smile, imagining the distress it would cause my mother.

“Jesus, Reagan.” Quinn’s razor-sharp whisper caught me by surprise. “You look like a homeless person. Have you completely lost the ability to dress yourself? Don’t tell me you actually wore this out in public?”

A biting retort tickled the tip of my tongue as I turned to face her, but I swallowed it when I saw what she had in her arms. Or, rather,
who
.

She beamed smugly at me. “This is Harrison. His pediatrician has cleared us to take him out in public as long as we don’t let anyone else hold him.”

Bright blue eyes stared at me as the little baby stuffed a chubby hand into his mouth and started sucking on it. His gaze widened for a moment as he chewed on his fingers, then he withdrew his hand and shot me a great big smile. And it was like the skies suddenly opened up in the middle of a rainstorm and the sun shone on me.

I reached out to him, but Quinn took a quick step back. “Don’t touch him. You might have germs.”

“Oh, relax.” I offered him my finger and his sweet little hand closed around it. I stared at him transfixed for a moment, then looked up at my sister. “Did you say Harrison? Seriously? You actually named your kid Harry Truman?” I laughed. “Good god, Quinn.”

“Harrison Nathaniel McKinley Truman, actually.” Quinn sniffed, shifting the knit hat covering his head. “It’s a perfectly respectable name. Pierce likes it. He got this huge smile when I told him.”

“That’s because he was laughing at you.” Our brother got a lot of enjoyment at Quinn’s expense. She just rarely realized it. I leaned toward Harry, and he reached for my face, his warm palm grazing my cheek. “Sorry buddy, but your mom’s nuts.”

“I am NOT.”

“Reagan, you are finally he—” The words stuck in my mother’s throat as her eyes took in the entirety of my outfit. She quickly scanned the room, an anxious look crossing her unnaturally young-looking face. Then she grabbed hold of my elbow and started pulling me toward the back of the apartment, hissing through her faux smile. “What is the matter with you? How could you show up here dressed like this? Do you want to embarrass us? Your father is the governor-elect, for goodness’ sake!”

“Why, Mother, it’s my holiday finest.” I smirked. “And if anyone should be embarrassed, it’s you. You lied to me. Not to mention, you’re a few too many martinis overdressed for our talk.”

Ignoring me, she looked over her shoulder, back to where I’d been standing with Quinn. “You didn’t bring your artist, did you?” She whispered the question like Dare was a dirty little secret, and I could feel my temper start to flare. “He would not fit in here at all.”

“Neither do I.” I ripped my elbow from her grasp, my mouth gaping as I realized what she’d done.

“Reagan, behave yourself—”

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You didn’t want Dare here, so you tricked me into coming tonight under the pretense that we’d be discussing your attempted wedding coup, but really you just wanted me to make an appearance at your fucking Christmas party. Another fucking photo op.”

“You watch your language, Reagan Allison McKinley. You are amongst New York’s elite, and you will act accordingly.”

“What, Mother? You don’t want me embarrassing you? You mean like you’re embarrassing me with the man I love? That you would stoop to such a level…” I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes, my fucking heart breaking again. Why did I even bother when it came to my parents—the two strangers who’d given me life in the literal sense, but kept trying to take it away from me in every way possible? Why did I care what they thought or whether or not they welcomed Dare? I needed to walk away. It was time to snap the olive branch in half and get the fuck out. “You know what? If Dare isn’t welcome here, then I’m not either.” I glanced over her shoulder and nearly lost my shit. Every cell in my body wanted to freaking roar. “What the fuck is
he
doing here?”

My mother actually rolled her eyes. “Jackson Fitzgerald?” She didn’t even have to turn around to know who I was talking about. Un-
fucking
-believable.

“He was supposed to be gone from your lives. Dad promised—oh my god.” It felt like my life was crashing down on me again, and I was having a hard time getting a single breath in. “If he didn’t think I was serious about the conditions I gave him, then he’s going to be mighty surprised when I leak everything to the press. I’m done hiding. I’m done living with secrets.”

“Oh, calm down, Reagan. No need to get hysterical.” My mother huffed. “Jackson was not invited, he just showed up, and your father was not the least bit pleased. But what do you want us to do? He is the senator’s son. Your father is the governor-elect. We cannot exactly throw him out without causing a scene. McKinleys do not make scenes. You know that.”

“I don’t give a shit about what McKinleys do or do not, Mother.”

Jackson looked up to see me glaring at him and the smile he shot me had enough wattage to light up the city. But though his grin oozed charm and seemed to be dazzling the woman he was talking to, it didn’t reach his eyes. They looked dangerously dark and cold. Shivers shuddered through me.

“You were able to manipulate me into coming, surely you and Dad could get a rapist to leave. I’m very aware of the range of your talents. The two of you together are sickeningly formidable.” Jackson’s eyes were on me again, and my skin began to crawl. I pointed down the hall, to my father’s office. “I’m going in there while you get rid of Jackson and find Dad. I’ll say what I came here to say to the two of you, then I’m leaving.” She started to protest, her mouth open, her perfect blonde French-twist bobbing as she shook her head. “Unless, of course, you’d prefer to have our conversation out here in the middle of your party for everyone to hear.” I shrugged. “It’s up to you. I can talk as quietly or as loudly as you’d like.”

My mother clamped her lips tight, reached up and touched her hand to her chest. Then she gave a curt nod. “Fine. We will join you in a moment, Reagan.” She walked away, a fake smile plastered across her face.

Hands trembling, I pulled out my phone and called Dare. “You are not going to fucking believe what I just walked into.” I filled him in on the clusterfuck that was this night.

He didn’t even hesitate. “I’m on my way.”

“Dare—”

“Ree, I’m walking out the door right now. I’m not leaving you alone with those people. And especially not with that fuckwad there.”

“Thank you.” I breathed, feeling my shoulders release just a bit.

I pocketed my phone again, turned, and came face-to-face with Jackson.

Fuck. Me.

“Reagan,” he said, his voice cool and low. Hearing my name on his lips made me want to vomit. “I was hoping you’d show up.” He blazed a smile at someone behind me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of him. “We have some catching up to do.”

“I have nothing to say to you, Jackson. My fiancé is on his way over, and I suggest you make yourself scarce before he gets here.” I smiled coldly into his slimy face. “You remember him, don’t you? From your encounter on the sidewalk?” His grin slipped a notch, and his eyes hardened. “I’m guessing he’ll be even
less happy
to see you today. The only reason you’re still breathing is because he hadn’t known it was
you
that day. So you might want to clear out before he arrives.”

Pushing past him, I hurried over to the elevator and pressed the button, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder, willing myself to just breathe. There was no way I was going to go wait in my father’s office while my parents got their act together. Not when Jack was still here.

The doors opened, I slipped in, and hit the button for the ground floor. I got a glimpse of Pierce’s worried face right before the doors slid shut.

The lobby was blessedly bare of people, save for the doorman who nodded at me as I paced in front of the windows to the street. The other elevator dinged, and my heart raced, fearing Jackson had followed me down. But it was only some old rich guy I didn’t recognize. I watched the doorman show him out, then hurry to the curb to hail him a cab.

I glanced at the time on my phone. It wouldn’t take Dare long to get here, I knew. Not on his motorcycle, and especially not when he was pissed. So I only had to hang on for—

“You’ve ruined my life, you selfish bitch!”

Pain flared up my right arm as Jackson’s fingers dug into it with the strength of a vice grip. I tried to pull away, but he only held on tighter. He spun me around to face him, his other hand clamping onto my left arm.

Gone was the charm and ease he’d been wearing upstairs. All that was left was craze.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hard I’ve worked on your father’s campaign? How many hours I’ve put in? How much of my fucking life I’ve had to give up for that overblown douchebag?”