Sasha Charles read the invitation to the Jordan Jace exhibition at his gallery, Sorella, for the third time. She scanned the website for the gallery and studied his handsome face.
Smooth brown skin. Intense, mesmerizing eyes. A brilliant, mischievous smile. There was something about the man that made her want to know more about him. Then there was his art. Public installations that stood several stories high against the San Diego skyline.
Powerful. Intriguing. Enigmatic.
Much like the man himself from what she’d been able to gather.
Sasha walked through her closet in search of the perfect dress. Something that was all business, but would still capture Jordan Jace’s eye when she walked into his gallery.
She lifted a dress custom made for her by one of her clients—a local fashion designer.
Sasha had been waiting for the right occasion to wear the dress. The navy, off-shoulder dress had a mermaid silhouette. The top was made of lace and there was a lace detail on the train.
Sasha held the dress against her and nodded. A sly smile curved the corner of her mouth.
Absolutely perfect. Jordan Jace won’t know what hit him.
Sasha laid the dress out on her bed, kicked off her shoes and got ready for the night ahead.
* * *
Jordan stood on the second level of his art gallery and surveyed the space. Tried to see it as a first-time visitor or potential client would.
He loved everything about Sorella. From its name to the raw elements that comprised the site. Exposed brick walls. Restored original wood floors. An open loft and staircase constructed of black steel.
The spare feel of the showroom allowed the art to be the real star. The paintings of some of San Diego’s best upcoming artists adorned the walls of the gallery. Sculptures cast in bronze, copper, steel, marble and clay anchored the space. And today a variety of his pieces took center stage on both levels.
Jordan worked with found elements of metal and reclaimed wood to create works of art that were truly unique. Pieces each viewer interpreted differently.
It was an honor to have public art installations in San Diego and the UK. To share his art with an entire community. Yet, there was something truly intimate about a buyer falling in love with one of his sculptures and making it part of their home or office.
It was a tremendous feeling his parents would never understand. Not that they’d ever tried. Instead, they’d treated his art as if it were a teenage indulgence. Something he needed to work out of his system before he finally gave it up and took a “real” job in their family business.
“How does everything look?” Lydia shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she stood beside him.
“Brilliant. You’ve done a bang-up job, Lydia.” Arms still folded, he glanced at the woman quickly, then returned to surveying the gallery for any missed details.
“Is there anything I’ve forgotten?” She stood ready with a notebook and pen.
“Is the bar completely stocked?”
Guests would be offered complimentary champagne and hors d’oeuvres. But they could order anything they desired from the bar anchoring the center of the room.
“Yes. They have all of the top-shelf spirits you requested.”
“Did we get that wine in from—”
“The wineries you visited in Baja last month during the Prescott George tour?” Lydia finished his thought. “Yes.”
“Very good. Has the caterer arrived yet?”
“She’s setting up now.”
“You’re remarkable, as always.” Jordan turned to face the woman. Lydia’s title was assistant, but truthfully, she did it all. She handled paperwork, managed the gallery, assisted with the curation of artwork and generally kept him on track. All without complaint. “And you look smashing tonight. As always,” he added with a broad smile that made her blue eyes twinkle.
Per his parents’ voice mails and text messages filled with excuses, neither of them would be in attendance tonight, though they were both in town. But an impressive list of wealthy and well-known residents of San Diego would be on hand. Along with a few out-of-towners who’d flown in just for the event.
Tonight would be memorable—regardless of whether his parents deemed the event worthy of their presence.
* * *
Jordan flashed his biggest smile for a wealthy patron who’d bought several of his sculptures for her homes in London and Los Angeles. Vivian Avery had been the first person to purchase a major piece from him who hadn’t been connected to or referred by a member of his family or Prescott George. Ten years later, she was still one of his most ardent supporters.
Tonight the older woman was in the market for a smaller scale piece right for her lavish New York apartment.
Jordan chatted with a few other patrons milling about the gallery. He talked with two other gallery owners who’d been pressing him to collaborate on a local arts festival. They hoped the project would bring a wider range of visitors to all three galleries. Jordan wasn’t willing to commit on the project just yet. But he was personable and showed just enough interest to keep the two other gallery owners’ hopes alive.
“Phenomenal event, Jordan.” His eldest brother, Marlon, exchanged his empty champagne glass for a filled one floating by on a server’s tray.
His brothers Michael and Joseph heartily agreed.
“Thank you for coming tonight. All of you, but you especially.” Jordan indicated his brother Marlon who’d arranged a business meeting in San Diego for the sole purpose of attending his event. “I know you have to be off soon to catch your red-eye flight back home.”
“Since he’s flying the private jet, Michael and I are tagging along.” Joseph nibbled on pâté on crostini. “We’ll be back here in a week or two.”
Jordan gave his brothers a quick hug. “I really do appreciate you being here.”
“Mum and Dad really did want to be here,” Marlon said quickly. “They’ve been trying to ring you all day to tell you as much themselves.”
“You shouldn’t brush them off that way. If for no other reason than they keep ringing the three of us all day. As if that will force you to answer your mobile.”
“I love them, but I’ve heard all of their excuses before.” Jordan winced, his lips pressed into a hard line. “Wasn’t much up for such utter tosh today. Had my fill of it for the day over at the Prescott George office.”
“What happened?” Michael crooked his brow.
“Nothing worth discussing,” Jordan said quickly. “And nothing for any of you to worry about.” He caught a glimpse of Lydia waving him over. “If I don’t see you before you leave, have a safe flight.”
Jordan answered a few questions Lydia asked on behalf of a client inquiring about a custom piece. He stopped to talk to the bartenders, then mingled with a few other guests. Then he noticed...her.
He watched the woman in a long, navy dress that hugged her lush curves. The dress was incredibly sexy without being too revealing. A line she trod remarkably well. Her movements were so smooth and fluid she seemed to float across the room.
Jordan’s attention was drawn to the smooth skin of her back and shoulders. Trailed up her long, elegant neck. He usually fancied women with long hair. Enamored with the thought of winding it round his fist. But the woman’s hair was cut into a short, pixie style that perfectly suited her impish smile.
A smile that indicated she knew something the rest of the world didn’t.