Page 8 of Naughty Festivities

“Luke is running late but will be here soon, so I’m glad you are here. Can you believe this?” Stella said, shaking her head and glancing around.

“I told you.” Amelia rubbed her arm. “For years. Though it was up to you to believe in yourself and pitch your work.”

“I know. God. I know,” Stella said, taking a big sip of her bubbles. “All the rejections were worth it.”

Amelia smiled.

Despite her influential family, Amelia hadn’t used a single one of them to achieve her success. Honestly, apart from Daniel Dufort, the CEO of Dufort Hotels, who was well-known across the nation, no one in the art world knew who the rest of her powerful and wealthy relatives were.

Thankfully.

Like most artists, she knew she had to do it on her own. Of course, it helped that she had her trust fund to help pay the bills while she found her way. She was grateful for that, and it was probably why she never told her dad to shut his big mouth when he continued telling her she was weird.

Instead, she set her mind on promoting herself and selling her work. Now, some of them were situated in spots around Philly and other states around the country.

She was proud of herself.

Now, her father had started on at her to get married, but she knew it wasn’t just her. He had been harassing Aidan, too. Perhaps it was because Logan was about to sayI do.

For the second time.

Neither she nor Aidan were close to that milestone in life. They weren’t dating anyone, and, as far as she knew, Aidan wasn’t keen on settling down.

She wanted to. Very much.

But she kept choosing the wrong men and ending up with her hopes crushed.

“You need to consider a real career, Amelia. No man worthy of you will be happy with all this art business. Try law. You would enjoy that. God knows you like arguing with me,” Andrew Dufort had said.

The fact she never had to work again because of the money she had personally accumulated seemed to have been overlooked, but Amelia wasn’t focused on that. It was the rejection she constantly felt when things fell apart in her relationships.

In some ways, he was right. Artists lived different lives than those sitting in rush hour traffic to work in an office nine to five. She kept strange hours, sometimes staying awake until three a.m., and not wanting to talk to people for days as she held a vision in her head.

How would that work with someonenormal?

Plus, whoever it was needed to be strong enough to deal with her overprotective big brothers. And theywerebig. Logan and Aidan were older than her and towered over her five-foot-five slim frame by a good seven inches.

Both of them had attracted a lot of female attention all of their lives. She’d had to put up with that, but when the tables turned, and men showed an interest in her, they were quickly scared away.

Amelia fell in love quickly, then crashed when it ended. She inevitably turned to her brothers, who she was very close to, and they picked up her broken pieces.

And threatened to kill the guy.

She was at a point now where she was giving up.

Perhaps she’d get a cat.

What Amelia truly wanted was someone she could sit up with all night talking, discuss the philosophies of life, walk along the Parkway while eating Philly steaks, and kiss them under the moonlight.

She wanted a spark so explosive and a soul-deep love so beautiful it threatened to rip her heart out.

Which was why she ended up so disappointed and heartbroken. It was unrealistic.

Unlike other women, she wasn’t impressed by flash things. She’d dined at all the fancy restaurants, flown in private jets, and stayed at the best hotels in the world. What she wanted was to be loved, seen, and accepted for all she was.

With someone who was committed and trustworthy.

But she hadn’t found him among the architects, artists, designers, authors, and other creatives she’d dated.