The elevator doors opened up to a penthouse unlike anything I'd ever seen. Tristan's home was something right out of a design magazine. I walked around with my mouth agape at the opulence of his place. He seemed almost disinterested in his own home, though, except for the one bare spot on the wall in his bedroom. That seemed of the utmost importance to him.
Pointing at it, he asked, "What do you think should go there?"
I stared at the wall as my mind quickly went as empty as the blank space. "Is this the test?"
"Yes."
"I don't know. I'd have to spend some time examining the rest of the decor. You don't want just anything hanging there. If that were the case, the poker playing dogs picture would work."
He chuckled but wasn't going to be put off. "All you must do is answer the question correctly and the assistant curator job is yours, Nina."
He stood so close that my mind went from blank to muddled. All I could think of was the luxurious feel of his suit as his arm brushed the back of my hand and the sexy smell of his cologne filling my nose. I turned away from looking at the spot to see him staring down at me. I could think of nothing, but I blurted out, "A Cooper," knowing in my heart that wasn't what he wanted to hear.
His expression showed his disapproval—or was it disappointment?—and he turned away, shaking his head. "No."
I had no way of disagreeing, but even now as I knew I'd failed the test and lost out on the dream job of my life, I still couldn't think of an appropriate choice. Dejected, I looked up at him and quietly said, "If you can just take me home, please."
He pulled his phone from his suit coat pocket and spoke into it in a flat tone. "I need a car downstairs to take a young lady to Sunset Park."
Whatever the person on the other end said I had no idea, but in seconds the elevator door opened and Tristan ushered me toward the exit. He said nothing, and I got into the elevator, sad that I'd failed the test and lost my chance but also sad that I'd let him down. It was strange, but although I barely knew him, I was uncomfortable with him being unhappy.
The doors began to close, taking him away, and I pushed back the tears welling up in my eyes. Just before he disappeared from sight, I whispered, "I'm sorry."
And then he was gone.
If I could have called in sick from work on Wednesday, I would have. Just going to the gallery reminded me of him, and even more, it reminded me of how I'd utterly failed at my one chance to really do something in the art world. By the time the day was over, I was committed to spending the night in bed with ice cream and a sad movie so I'd feel justified in crying my eyes out.
Jordan had end of year conferences, so the apartment was all mine to mope around to my heart's content. It was strange, but I felt empty inside after what had happened with Tristan. I knew it should have been over the chance he'd given me, but it was because I'd lost him. But had he ever really been mine to lose? I had no idea. I just knew that as I walked around the apartment aimlessly I was missing him.
By seven o'clock, I had devoured a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream and was ready for the DVD player to deliver enough sad love stories that I'd cry the memory of Tristan Stone right out of my heart. I needed true love separated by horrible circumstances and life changing romance.
A knock at the door just before the first movie began slowed my mourning, and as I padded barefoot down the hallway to the front door, I hoped it wasn't Alex, who'd called three times since the night before. I didn't have the answer no matter what the question was he wanted to ask.
I opened the door, and instead of Alex, there stood Tristan. My heart leaped in my chest at the sight of him. Dressed impeccably in a suit, as always, he was a sight for sore eyes. I knew I shouldn't be thrilled to see him, but I was.
"Come for a ride with me. I want to talk."
And with that everything that had happened between us came rushing back. All the confusion. All the frustration. And now, all the anger at how he'd toyed with me.
"Go back to your penthouse, Tristan. Find someone else to do your charity work on."
I threw every bit of power I had into slamming the door in his face, but he jammed his foot in the opening. It pushed back against my hands as he tried to stick his face in through the crack to speak.