Chapter 91

I was ready to go five minutes before Victor picked me up.

Jennifer and I chose a floor-length skirt and a silk top with an illusion neckline. The top showed too much of my skin, so I paired it with a short, light jacket.

My hair was in a braided updo, and I was wearing red lipstick for the first time. Jennifer said my overall look was classy and chic.

My reflection in the mirror gave me a thrill and a confidence boost, but the young woman I saw looked too good to be me.

Victor let out a little whistle when he saw me walk down the stairs. “Wow! You look amazing.”

I blushed. “Thank you. Let me say good night to Alex, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Alex told me to have a good time, and we were soon out the door.

We climbed into the Lamborghini, and we were off for the latest art show at Mirage, the most successful and trendiest gallery in the city.

“What do you know about the artist?” Victor asked.

“Emily Miller is in her early thirties. She became an orphan when she was ten and was put in the foster system. The family she was placed with wasn’t nice to her.”

“That sounds a little like your story, but Emily didn’t have a long-lost billionaire father to find her and change her life.”

I shook my head. “No, she worked her way through school, landed a good job to support herself, and painted in her spare time.”

Now she’s one of the hottest up-and-coming artists,” Victor said.

“She deserves success. Not because of her rough life but because her work is outstanding. She's done some great modern impressionist work, but her abstract pieces are rightly called masterpieces.”

Victor stared at me while we sat at a red light. I saw admiration in his eyes.

“You amaze me, Daisy,” he said. “You must love art as much as I do to know so much about a new artist.”

He smiled at me. “I like to know the background of the artists, too. It helps me understand their frame of mind when painting the pieces.”

“That’s exactly what I like to do,” I agreed. “Knowing details about an artist’s life and then seeing their work is like looking through a window into their soul.”

“I feel the same way,” he said. “It makes the experience of viewing their paintings more intense.”

“You know,” Victor added. “If anybody told me when I first met you that you would change so quickly into the intelligent and beautiful young woman sitting next to me, I wouldn’t have believed them.”

Victor's words added to my confidence. Like the mirror showed me how I have changed on the outside, Victor’s opinion of me showed how I changed on the inside. The changes were all good.

The gallery was crowded, but we were given VIP treatment and didn’t have to wait at the door to get in.

The paintings at the show were all done in the abstract style and were stunning. The shapes and the colors came together in a way that expressed the artist's emotions when she painted them.

Victor and I stood before a painting depicting a sinister-looking house with a red front door.

“Such sadness and grief expressed on the canvas,” I whispered to Victor.

He nodded. “I can feel it too.”

The plaque says Emily painted it from memory. It’s the house that belonged to her foster family. It shows how she felt when she was first taken there after her parents died.”

A crowd was forming behind us, so we moved to the next painting. This one made me smile. It was a little girl in a tutu, sitting on the floor and rubbing her feet.

“She didn’t care for dance lessons,” Victor said. “How her body is positioned makes me feel how much she dislikes dancing.”

“That’s what the plaque says,” I said. “She was very young. This took place before she was orphaned. She gave up ballet that day.”

We moved on to the next. The canvas showed fish swimming in a tank. There was a small hand tapping on the glass of the aquarium.

“I feel relaxation and wonderment in this one,” I whispered. “I read she went to the city aquarium as an escape from her foster home. She loved it there.”

Victor was reading the plaque as a young male crowded close to me.

“Excuse me,” I said and tried to move aside.

His hand closed on my wrist. “I didn’t mean to chase you away. My name is Jack. Would you like to have dinner sometime?”

Victor removed Jack’s hand from my wrist. “Hitting on my fiancé, Jack?”

Jack pulled his hand out of Victor’s grasp. “Hello, Victor. I didn’t know Miss Wilson was your fiancé. There was no announcement at her ball or at any time since.”

I sensed Victor’s temper rising and spoke up to prevent a fight.

“Thank you for your invitation, Jack. But I assure you we are engaged. The announcement will be made soon.”

“Then you have my apologies, Victor.” Jack gave us a nod and walked away.

“I’m talking to Alex about making the announcement when I take you home.”

I moved to the next painting and stood beside a petite, dark-haired woman.

We both studied the girl walking her dog in the rain that was painted on the canvas in front of us.

“I can feel her happiness,” I whispered to myself. “She loves that dog so much that she didn’t mind walking in the rain.”

“It was the only being who loved me at that time,” the woman beside me said.

I couldn’t believe my luck. “You’re Emily Miller?”

“Yes, I am.” She extended her hand and shook mine. “Thank you for coming to my opening, Daisy.”

“You know who I am?”

“I was intrigued by your story,” she admitted. “Like mine, your early life wasn’t easy, and you also are overcoming scars on your soul.”

“I love your work, Miss Miller. It’s an honor to meet you and to know you noticed me.”

“The aquarium and painting got me through my difficult years,” Emily said. “What helped you?”

“I’m not an artist or a dancer.” I shrugged. “But I hope to help people soon. I’ve always wanted to make a difference and improve the lives of Betas and Omegas.”

She linked arms with me. “Then you don’t need paint. You should consider people who need your help to be your canvases. Their happiness and success will define your life.”

“What a beautiful thought,” I said.

“Let me know how things work out for you, Daisy,” Emily requested. “You can contact me through my website.”

As Emily walked away, I felt Victor’s arm slip around my shoulders.

“She knew who I was,” I told him. “And she’s a wonderful person, just like I thought she would be.”

Victor kissed the top of my head. “You’re pretty special too.”

“I really need to speak to Alex,” Victor sighed. “Another guy is staring at you from across the room. If he hits on you too, I might lose it.”

I studied the handsome young male for a moment. He was tall and thin with light brown hair and didn’t look familiar.

“How about if I just go over and tell him we’re engaged?” I suggested.

“We need to get the word out somehow,” Victor agreed.

I smiled at Victor and turned toward the guy who was still staring at me. I had butterflies in my stomach. Hopefully, I wouldn’t stutter throughout the confrontation.

But when he saw me coming his way, he hurried out of the gallery's main room. I returned to Victor’s side.

“We must have been wrong about him staring at me,” I said.

“No, he was definitely staring at you. But why did he run away?”

Victor walked over to the spot where the young male had been standing. I followed.

“Do you smell it?” Victor asked.

I sniffed the air, and my eyes widened. “Is he … the trespasser in Alex’s woods?”

“I think he is,” Adam said from Victor’s mind.

“I agree with Adam,” Diana said. “You should try to see where he went.”

Victor and I left the gallery by the same door we had seen the male used to escape. But he was gone. His scent lingered slightly near the bus stop.

I took Victor’s arm and held it tightly. “We should go to my home and speak to Alex.”

“I agree.” Victor took my hand and held it on our way to his car.

But when we got to the mansion, Benson told us Alex didn’t feel well and had retired for the evening.”

“I’ll speak to him before we leave for the party tomorrow evening,” Victor promised.