Page 89 of Depraved Royals
I see my sister looking hot in a satin evening dress. She’s charming a tall man with jet-black hair and pecs for days.
“Woah.” I raise my eyebrows. “Good for her.”
Kal narrows his eyes at me. “Watch it, wife. I don’t have a sense of humor about things like that, you know.”
I smile mischievously and ignore him, turning to Papa.
“Why are you here?”
“To celebrate,dorogaya.”
Papa flags down a passing server, handing me and Kal glasses of champagne. I catch his eye, and he wrinkles his nose. I suppress a smirk and dutifully sip the fizz.
“What, my birthday?” I ask. “It’s wonderful you’re here, but I don’t get it.”
Kal grins. Mama nudges him.
“You aresucha pain in the ass, Kal. How could you keep this from Dani?” Mama turns to me. “You really don’t know?”
I look around—canapés on silver trays, flutes of sparkling wine. People are leaning on the gallery’s iconic pillars, chatting and laughing.
One door to the inside is open, a velvet rope blocking the way. Brutus is guarding it.
“Is that the secret exhibit?” I ask.
Kal nods. “Do you wanna go take a look?”
“Sure. But you and I should go in on our own first.”
Brutus’s stoic expression makes me giggle. I poke him in the stomach.
“Hey, big guy. You been on the pasta or what?”
Brutus tries, but he can’t keep the smirk off his face. “Hiya, Dani. Happy birthday, kid.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Let us in?”
Brutus unclips the rope and holds it aside.
“You got ten minutes,” he says, winking at Kal.
Inside the room, the lights are low. Kal finds a switch on the wall and slowly turns up the dimmer, illuminating the art on the walls.
It’s mine.
My debut collection is on display in the Uffizi Gallery, one of the most prestigious exhibition spaces in the world.
I’m staring. This can’t be real, surely.
I turn to Kal. “How did…I mean, you…what?”
Kal laughs and pulls me into his arms. “What, this? I just flew Pippa here to take over the placement of your artwork that I had specially packaged and couriered from your home to Florence on a chartered flight. Anyone having an exhibition in New York in the next couple of days will find that everyone on the scene is mysteriously out of town—I told absolutely everyone to be here and bought out a couple of flights in their entirety to make it happen.”
I look up at him, amazed.
He’s always doing shit like this. When I went into labor, I had an entire suite of rooms and a private obstetrics team, most of whom played Canasta with me for hours because they had nothing to do.
“It’s wonderful,” I whisper, my eyes spilling over. “This might be the best thing you’ve done for me yet.”