Page 63 of Strictly Business
When I reach the landing, the middle doors open and a security guard steps out to greet me with a warm smile. The grand entrance, typically filled to the brim with tourists and locals alike, is eerily quiet. A variety of different candles cover the information desk flickering in the dim light.
“I guess you didn’t want to see what happened if you misbehaved,” his voice echoes through the great hall stepping out from the Greek and Roman wing. He adjusts the button of his royal blue suit walking toward me. The entire outfit consists of different shades of blue — royal blue suit, sky blue shirt, navy blue tie with some type of pattern on it. The only thing different is the pocket square to match the color of my dress. His stubble has grown into a full beard. Fuck, he looks good. I haven’t seen him since I got back from Bridgeport two days ago, and it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.
Finn wastes no time pulling my mouth to his in a crushing kiss.
God, I missed him. Missed this.
“We could always skip this part of the date,” I mumble against his mouth.
“Nice try,” he laughs and gives me another quick peck. “We’re doing this.”
“What exactly is this?”
“Patience is a virtue, Shortcake.” Finn extends his arm to me placing his hand on top of mine when I loop my arm through his. He guides me toward the Greek and Roman wing, the click of my heels the only sound besides the beat of my heart It’s so loud against my chest, I’m sure he can hear it. God, why am I so nervous? I’ve known him for over half my life, I shouldn’t be this nervous to be alone with him. How can I not be? He rented out the entire fucking Metropolitan Museum of Art for our first date. Who does that?
We take our time strolling through the different exhibits that inhabit the wing. It’s odd, the sense of familiarity between us, but at the same time, I feel like I know nothing about him. I know he transferred to Bridgeport High at the end of his freshman year because he was asked not to return to The Hills Academy. I know he was one of the better football players we had, alongside Nick. I know he dated a multitude of girls from all over Winchester and Bridgeport, but never more than one at the same time. I know he dropped out of three different colleges, including Rosecliffe. I know he, Josh, and Nick have been best friends since they met. I know he’s been a big partier since high school; he spent years traveling Europe, always looking for the next party. Everything about Finn has always screamed complete asshole to me, but now I realize I may have been a little quick to judge.
We travel through Greek and Roman art, the African gallery, and the Italian Arts before Finn ushers me toward the Petrie European Sculpture Court. I gasp stepping through the archway. The courtyard is lit by candlelight. A pathway beckons us further inside through the multitude of statues. I recognize each one, even in the darkened space and it brings a heightened sense of comfort, like I’m not alone at the beginning of this new journey. A private table has been set up between Ugolino and Perseus. Candles litter the tabletop and a bottle of wine sits between two place settings. “Finn…”
He kisses my temple. “Like it?”
“Like it? This is…insane. I’m honestly surprised there isn’t a string quartet.” He blushes and motions behind me. When I turn, four musicians await their cues. “Spoke too soon.”
Finn chuckles and the lead violinist nods towards the others. A soft melody fills the space. “May I have this dance?” Finn asks extending his hand to me.
“I never knew you were this cheesy,” I smirk taking his hand.
“There’s a lot you don’t know, remember?”
Fair point.
“So,” he pulls me into him, “how are Pat and Jenny?”
“They’re great. Being home was better than expected.”
“I take it telling them went okay, then?”
“We talked about this.”
“Briefly, but I want to hear everything.” Finn briefly spins me before pulling me back into his chest and the joke I had prepared catches in my throat when I meet his stare. I’ve always thought Finnley Sheffield was handsome, sexy even, but the word beautiful is the only thing that comes to mind right now. His strong features somehow look soft, yet sharp, as the candlelight dances across his face. Chocolate eyes look as black as the night sky above us, but I could stare into them for hours.
Surely, there’s something to explain this feeling, but I can’t think of it. Whatever this is, I’ve never felt it before. Not with David or any of my other boyfriends. It settles deep in my heart, wanting to consume me entirely if I allow it.
Chapter Thirty-One
FINN
“I GOT YOU SOMETHING.”
“Please don’t get me anything else,” Michaela begged as we walked into the condo after our date at the Met. “You’ve done too much already.”
It could never be too much. I wanted this to be different. I wanted to show her what it meant to be appreciated. I get the distinct feeling there weren’t a lot of nights like this in her relationship with Asshole. Besides, being a Sheffield has its advantages, and it doesn’t hurt to be able to make a sizeable donation to the museum when they’re looking to make some changes. What’s the old expression — money talks? “I had Paul make a spare for you,” I said passing her a key.
“You’re giving me a key?” She looked confused. “Why?”
“You’re always welcome here, Shortcake.”
“Finn, we’ve been dating less than two weeks.”