CHAPTER ONE
969 Words
CHAPTER ONE
“It’s exquisite isn’t it?” Thirty-seven-year-old Seven Prescott stood behind the older, silver-haired man who ogled the African painting in the Worlds of Women Art Museum.
The man turned with his thumb perched underneath his chin. “It’s a Kaya Boro painting.” His silver mustache wrinkled. “I’ve been studying her for a while.”
“Really?” Seven tossed his gaze across the bright room to the gorgeous, black woman with the red dress and skin of Hershey’s dark chocolate. “I’ve been studying her a while myself.” He clasped the button of his black, Michael Kors blazer. “I came across her work in Culture of Houston Magazine a few years back.”
“Hm.” The man looked Seven over with his nose tipped in the air. “You’re into African art?”
Seven glanced at Kaya again as she chatted with a group of women. “The artist has enraptured me.”
“Kaya is amazing.” A smile peeked through the man’s fat cheeks. “I’m an art collector and African is my favorite.”
Seven smirked, sipping champagne from his glass.
“I’m an art journalist,” the man continued. “I’m hoping to score an interview with Kaya. She’s becoming the hottest female artist in Houston.”
Kaya twisted to another painting, the snug dress outlining her hourglass figure.
“I’ve been dying to pick her brain,” the man said. “Want to know what she thinks and how she turns her vision into such fascinating work.”
“She’s hard to get close to I hear,” Seven said. “Elusive and kinda shy. Doesn’t like doing interviews.”
The man smirked as he watched Kaya. “A woman who wears a dress like that can’t be shy.”
They chuckled, and the man squinted. “Don’t I know you?” He covered his mouth. “You’re Seven Prescott, aren’t you? The son of Alton Prescott, CEO of LX Energy.” He gripped Seven’s hand. “Can’t believe I’m meeting who the Houston Chronicle calls ‘Texas’ Most Eligible Bachelor’.”
“Thanks.” Seven’s cheeks tingled at the praise.
“I’m a big fan of your mother’s magazine.” The man put his hands in his pocket. “I never miss an issue of the H-Town Quarterly. Wow.” He snickered. “I’m delighted to meet you Mr. Prescott—”
“Hello.” Kaya sashayed toward the men with her rose-scented perfume grabbing Seven by the balls. “I’m Kaya Boro and this is my painting.” Her white teeth glistened against her smooth skin.
“I’m Morris Pope.” The old man grabbed her hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Boro. I’m a big fan of your work.”
“That’s kind of you.” She looked at Seven and if she weren’t so dark, he swore she’d been blushing. “I’m always happy to meet a fan but I’m nothing special.”
Seven sipped champagne, imagining the rim of the glass being her n****e.
“Nothing special?” Morris slapped his hands together, cackling. “Miss Boro, you are one of the most talented artists I’ve ever seen.”
She fidgeted, cutting her eyes to Seven again. “You’re kind but I’m still making a name for myself.”
“You won’t be for long,” Seven said. “I’m an even bigger fan.” He took her hand and kissed it.
Morris grimaced, perhaps jealous of the c**k blocking.
“I’m Seven Prescott.”
Kaya’s ebony-brown eyes flickered. “‘Texas’ Most Eligible Bachelor’ you mean?”
Seven chuckled, lowering his glass. “I hope that’s not all you see when you look at me.”
“I also see the heir of a billion dollar energy corporation.” She patted her average-sized bosom. “Is there something else I should see?”
He dipped his head toward her, peeking into her cleavage. “Morris and I were discussing how much we admire your work.”
“We sure were.” Morris clenched Kaya’s slender waist and pulled her close. “This is magnificent.” He pointed to the bluish and yellow abstract painting with white sparkles flowing through it. “Why do you call it African Sky?”
“Because that’s how the sky looks at night in Cameroon.” Kaya tossed her eyes over her shoulder, latching onto Seven’s stare. “My dad was from Cameroon and took me there a lot when I was little. I’d sit in the yard at night and look at the sky. See?” She touched the painting, licking her lips at Seven. “The sparkles are the stars and since they meant so much, I put them all over the painting to show their importance.”
“Mm.” Morris moaned as if he’d ejaculated. “It’s funny how those nights stuck in your head. I bet you’re like a little sponge and just soak up everything.”
“That’s the purpose of art.” Kaya smiled at Seven. “Artists are the windows to the soul and we make memories eternal.”
“That’s beautiful.” Morris blushed, gawking at Kaya. “I’m an art journalist. Just started a little online magazine, and I’d love to feature you.” He passed her a card but her attention remained on Seven. “Let me know if you’re interested in getting together.”
“I will.” Kaya slipped the card into the pocket of her dress. “Would you like to meet my agent?” She pointed to the medium-brown black woman who wore an African, off-the-shoulder dress and matching scarf. “That’s her. Antonietta London.”
“Oh.” Morris gaped. “I’d love to meet her.”
“Great. She handles everything for me and she can tell you about events and exhibits I have coming up.”
“I’d love that.” Morris snatched out his notepad and a pencil. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss Boro.” He kissed her cheek.
She touched it. “Oh, wow. Nice to meet you too.”
“Mr. Prescott.”
“Mr. Pope.”
Morris trotted away.
Kaya locked her hands, moving in front of Seven. “Is ‘Texas’ Most Eligible Bachelor’ always this quiet?” She licked the corner of her lips and he couldn’t stop staring at the wet spot.
“I’m not quiet.”
“No?” She moved closer to him, raising an eyebrow. “Then what are you?”
“I’m thinking.” Butterflies overtook his solar plexus and every pore burst with sweat.
“Thinking?” she whispered, a line of sweat drizzling between her cleavage. “About what?”
“About how long it would take for me to get you out that dress.”
She stepped back, batting her eyes through her thick, black bangs.
He expected her to retort with a joke or even a slap, no way did he figure on what happened next.
“You’ve been watching me,” she said. “I saw you the second you came in.”
“I can’t stop watching you.” He took her hand and laid it on the front of his pants. “You make things come alive through art. Could you do the same for this?”
“This...” She exhaled. “Isn’t appropriate, Seven. We don’t even know each other and we’re in a room full of people.”
A woman stopped beside them, ogling Kaya’s portrait.
Seven pulled Kaya close and whispered in her ear, “Where can we be alone?”
“No.” She shut her eyes. “We can’t do this.”
His d**k pulsated. “I think we can.” He brought her hand to his mouth and not giving a damn who saw, sucked her finger. “I think we will.”
“The storage room is upstairs.” She panted, breasts heaving.
Seven stroked her straight, black hair, which stopped at the bottom of her jaw line. “What are we waiting for?”
- Writer
