Cause For Scandal (Dynasties: The Elliotts #3)(26)
Author: Anna DePalo

Maybe that was why he found her so fascinating.

He glanced over at her now as they strolled the streets of Fort Greene. She had on a short, fitted leather jacket and, under it, a black-and-white striped top that dipped low and was gathered enticingly between her pert br**sts. He hadn’t been able to stop his gaze from wandering back there again and again during their recently ended dinner.

In fact, he’d had to stop himself from whisking her back to his hotel room in order to spend the evening in bed, engaging in hot and satisfying sex.

“Here we are,” she said, smiling and turning to him, interrupting his thoughts.

He looked at the storefront behind her. The store windows were draped with red velvet curtains that shielded the inside, and there were no signs indicating what lay within except for a discreetly placed plaque beside the front door with the words Tentra Gallery in black.

As he soon discovered, however, the space inside was light, airy and loft-like, with a second-floor accessible by elevator. Photographs hung on the walls, each marked by a nameplate and a brief description.

The gallery had attracted a sizable but not overwhelming crowd. And because he didn’t want to be recognized, he kept his baseball cap on.

He and Summer started at one end of the gallery and, taking their time, gazed at each photograph individually.

“Remind me again of why we’re here,” he murmured.

She laughed softly. “Because Oren Levitt is a good friend and one of the photographers whose work is being shown.”

“How good a friend?”

She cast him a sidelong look. “Jealous?”

“Do I have reason to be?”

She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “No.” Then she added, “Oren’s engaged to his longtime girlfriend.”

“Good.” Irrational relief washed over him. He couldn’t recall ever being this possessive—or passionate—about a woman before.

Just then, a lanky guy whose look was all grunge approached, accompanied by a petite woman with dyed black hair and heavy eyeliner.

Summer made the introductions, and Zeke gave a nod of acknowledgment to Oren and his fiancée, Tabitha.

Both seemed impressed and enthusiastic to be meeting the Zeke Woodlow, and, as far as Zeke could tell, the only awkwardness came when Oren asked Summer about how John was doing and she had to divulge their recent breakup. If Oren and Tabitha wondered about Zeke’s own relationship with Summer, however, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

After Oren and Tabitha had moved on to greet some new arrivals, Zeke glanced down at Summer and said, “Not exactly the type of friends that I’d have thought a debutante like you would have.”

She arched a brow. “Are you saying you think I’m a snob?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. Until recently, you were all pearls and cashmere, and you’ve still got the posture of a comportment-school grad and the manners for afternoon tea with royalty.”

Summer sighed. “I met Oren in photography class. I met a lot of different people in my photography classes. I like meeting different types of people.”

“And yet,” he mused, “you were about to marry a guy who’s apparently just like you.”

Turning, he sauntered over to the nearest photo on the wall, leaving her to mull over that observation.

He noticed that she said nothing, but eventually she walked over to join him.

It seemed to Zeke, from what was on display, that Oren liked to do funky portraits. His work was sort of a cross between the photos of Annie Leibovitz and the art of Andy Warhol.

When they made their way up to the second floor, Zeke discovered more of Oren’s photographs.

“This is some of Oren’s earlier work,” Summer said, then added with a frown, “I didn’t know he’d have some of these on display tonight.”

Zeke spared her a glance as he walked toward the nearest photographs. One was of a clown, another of someone dressed as Marie Antoinette, the ill-fated queen of France.

Turning a corner, he saw other photos hung on the back of a flat pillar—and was brought up short.

Daphne.

It was the same woman who graced the photo that now hung in his mansion back in L.A. The same woman who glorified his dreams. He could swear it was.

Except the woman in this photograph was dressed in a Victorian ball gown, her hair in an elaborate twist on top of her head, her face made-up and partially obscured by a fan.

His eyes went to the nameplate accompanying the photo: “Daphne Victoria.”

“What’s wrong?” Summer asked as she joined him, glancing at his face and then at the photo on the wall.

He heard her sharp intake of breath before she looked back at him.

With Summer and Daphne now side by side, Zeke found he could finally really compare the two. The pale-green eyes were the same, but as with “Daphne at Play,” the hair of the woman in the photo was a couple shades darker than Summer’s own auburn.

“The resemblance is uncanny, isn’t it?” he murmured. He tore his eyes away from the photo and looked at Summer. “Are the photos on display tonight for sale?”

“I suppose so.”

“Good.” He nodded at the photo in front of him. “I’ll take that one.” He glanced around. “In fact, if there are any others like it, I’ll take those, too.”

“Zeke.”

He turned back to face Summer, who stood chewing on her lower lip.

“What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “Oren took that photo.”

He gazed at her for a moment, then realization slowly dawned.

Of course. He should have guessed. He wanted to laugh.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” he asked. If it hadn’t been for the heavy makeup and the difference in hair color, he’d have guessed right away.

The woman who haunted his dreams didn’t just resemble Summer. She was Summer.

He watched now as Summer nodded. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“What? Why?” He paused, then asked as suspicion dawned, “No one in your family knows?”

She nodded again. “I posed for Oren once as a favor in order to help him with his career, but only on the condition that he use a pseudonym for me and never publicly link me to the photos.”

“So that’s why the woman is identified as Daphne.”

“Yes.

Another thought occurred, and he drew his brows together. “There aren’t any nudes, are there?”

Her eyes widened. “What? No!”