Dr. Mitchell: Chapter 37

I couldn’t have been more relieved that psycho Vickie was behind bars, and from the list of her charges, she wasn’t going to see the outside of a prison cell in a very long time. The empathetic part of me wanted to feel sorry for her, but she was a wicked woman, and her bad karma caught up to her with a vengeance. If only I hadn’t been a part of the fallout.

Despite everything, my life was undoubtedly adding up nicely. I still painted, but I couldn’t afford to attend the College of the Arts in Valencia, so I’d signed up for online college courses for the fall semester. I could get my general education out of the way, at least, and then working at a ritzy restaurant as a waitress was giving me enough tips to hold down the rent for my new studio apartment. All of the money I’d saved, living at home with Dad, was enough to go to college, but I had two choices: stay and live with Carmen and dad forever to pay for school, or move out, give them their privacy, and figure the rest out later.

I wasn’t going to bury myself in student loans, and the financial aid wasn’t enough to pull it off at the college of my dreams. Instead, I used the funding to go through city college, finish my Associate’s Degree, and move onto the Bachelor’s.

I’d been watching television with Carmen and Dad, but tomorrow I planned to head to Beverly Hills to stay with Clay and Joe for a week.

“I think I’m going to head out,” I said. “Thanks for having me over, guys.”

“Wait,” Carmen pointed to the television, looking at Dad. “Turn it up. Ash.” She looked at me. “Oh my goodness, they actually ran a segment on this.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, sitting down again and looking in shock at Jake’s boat. “What the hell is this?”

“Shh,” Carmen said, sitting erect, crossing her legs, and winking at my dad.

“For all of you who’ve followed the story we broke over the weekend, here’s a tiny look into the Floating Gallery auction that took place,” the reporter said. “Joe Ruiz has your inside look at the event that took place on billionaire heart surgeon, Dr. Mitchell’s yacht.”

My body froze as I watched the television in silence.

“Yes,” Joe said. “I’m standing on the deck of the yacht named Sea Angel, where Dr. Jacob Mitchell held a floating art auction with magnificent pieces from a completely anonymous artist. Why Dr. Mitchell went to such great lengths to put something so unique together, and something so shrouded in mystery, is the burning question on all of our minds. The boat set sail on Friday night with astounding events and a lot of interested buyers on board. The yacht remained in the bay over the weekend, but when it returned to shore, it appeared everyone who’d joined in on this unique journey came back with a treasure of their own.”

The camera rolled footage of all the paintings I’d ever painted. They were placed on Jacob’s yacht with iridescent light shining down on each piece. My eyes filled with tears, just seeing it on display like this. It was more beautiful than I’d imagined when I’d fantasized working for Lillian, having my artwork for sale in her gallery. The cameraman toured the boat, which was transformed into a breathtaking gallery with people everywhere. I listened to the guests speaking about my artwork with such passion and desire to own a piece that I was nothing but speechless at this point.

“Dr. Mitchell declined an interview except to state that all proceeds will go to an undisclosed recipient to help achieve their dreams.”

“It appears the doctor is as secretive as he can be these days since that horrible scandal that happened to him, yes?” the anchor asked.

“No one can blame him. When asked who the artist was, he only smiled and referenced the individual’s signature with a brushstroke of the letter A,” the reporter said.

“Well, rumors are swirling that this may be the artwork of Miss Ashley Taylor?” the anchor pried.

“That could very well be.”

“Oh my God,” I said, looking over at Carmen and dad. “You both knew about this?”

“Yes.” Dad smiled. “We were given an exclusive tour of your beautiful work on Jacob’s boat before the event.”

I ignored the anchor and reporter, still going on about Jacob’s floating gallery and auction. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you wouldn’t have gone,” Dad said. “You may have pushed Jacob out of your life, but we didn’t.”

“Dad,” I scowled at him, “you know that’s not how it all went down.”

“I know my daughter forgives people who’ve made mistakes, yet she won’t forgive the man who took all of the paintings she left behind.”

“He’s the one who took them?”

“Yes,” Carmen said. “The second I heard you were getting rid of them…” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “To the dump, mija? Really?”

“I had no room to haul all that shit around,” I said.

“Well, that shit, young lady, sold for over six million on that floating auction of Jacob’s.”

All the blood left my face. “What!”

“I told Jacob it was all priceless art, and I was insulted for you,” Carmen teased. “Jacob agreed with me.”

“How the hell did he make this happen?” I wondered out loud. “Where’s he donating the money, his heart clinic?”

Carmen chuckled. “Did you think the man ran out of money, Ash?”

Dad laughed. “We have no idea where the money went. All we know is that your work was put on a beautiful display, and a lot of people are still interested in more from the artist that Jacob is staying tight-lipped about.”

“Oh, my God,” I said. “I can’t believe any of this.”

“You still heading down to Clay and Joe’s tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I said, stunned. “I have the next week off before I start prepping for school.”

“Well, maybe you can make time to see Jake and ask him all these questions yourself.”

“I might have to do that,” I answered, unable to conceal my smile.

I got to my house and called Clay as I threw the mail on the table with my keys.

“Hey girl,” Clay said with a laugh. “You’re on speaker with Joe and me. Did you see the news tonight?”

“Yeah,” I ran my fingers through the mail, seeing an envelope addressed from a Mr. James Mitchell. “Did you guys know anything about this?”

“Of course we did. We bought one of the pieces when we were on the yacht,” Joe said.

“How am I just now hearing about this?” I asked.

“You moved on from him, and he didn’t want to piss you off. I can’t believe you were going to have those paintings hauled off to the dump, Ash.”

“Well, I had no room for them, and unlike what I just saw unfolding, I never believed they were that big of a deal.”

“You could have at least let us be the judge of that,” Clay said. “Thank God your dad thought to call Jake and ask if he was interested in them.”

“Dad and Carmen need to slow down with all this Jake relationship stuff. They probably begged him to take it all.”

Joe sighed. “No, try the other way around. Jake had already been by your place when you were checking out that college. He saw it all and told your dad before he left that if you didn’t take it with you, he wanted it.”

“I didn’t get that memo. They only told me that he’d stopped by and was thankful I’d helped guide him in the right direction or something like that,” I said, chewing on my nail. “He was supposed to meet up with me at Kinder’s the next night when I went there with you two, but I never saw him.”

“You’re a damn liar, Ashley Taylor,” Clay said. “He was there, and you weren’t interested in even looking in his direction. It seems you tamed that boy. He didn’t even so much as disturb you.”

“Though he was enjoying the sight,” Joe added.

“Well, I wish I was paying more attention,” I said.

“You were too busy fighting us when we were begging you to move in and work for Clay,” Joe said.

“I’m not a real estate agent, you goof.”

I opened the envelope from Jim and nearly choked when I saw the letter, asking me to accept my funds donated by Jacob Mitchell. “Holy shit,” I said. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“What, the fact that we’re dragging your ass to the celebration of your proceeds tomorrow?” Clay chuckled.

“No.” I ignored their implications of what that meant. “Jim is handling the proceeds from that auction. I have to show up at his place for the bank transfer. I can’t accept this, guys.”

“Is there a note or anything?” Joe asked.

“Hang on,” I said, pulling out a white envelope that was hidden inside the bigger one. Scribbled in all caps and true-to-form Jacob doctor script was my name: Ash. “There’s a letter from Jake,” I softly said, unfolding the paper inside it.

“What’s it say?” Clay pressed.

“Jesus, Jake’s handwriting sucks.” I laughed at the short note. “It’s like reading a goddamn prescription.”

“Take a picture. I’m sure we’ll get it.”

“No, no,” I smiled. “Here we go.”

I whispered the words as I read them, tears streaming from my eyes, feeling the sincerity of the man I’d fallen in love with.

I couldn’t get mad at this if I wanted to. I had no idea what the hell to do with that kind of money, though. All I knew was my heart had never let Jake go, and now I felt the pain of needing him again.

“Hey,” Clay said. “That’s beautiful, honey. I’m getting another call that I have to take. We’ll see you tomorrow. And bring a decent dress because we’re getting your ass out to celebrate.”

I hung up with the guys, blown away by all of this. Hell yes, we were celebrating tomorrow, and if I couldn’t celebrate with Jake, at least I had Clay and Joe.

We rolled up to an exquisite building with music filling the street and people standing in line to get in. We were close to Clay and Joe’s place. I was wearing the cocktail dress Jake had peeled off of me in San Francisco our first night together. It was the only nice dress I had and especially on short notice. I had donated the rest, but I’d held onto this one because Clay would kick my ass after the money he’d spent on it for me to wear to the wedding.

Clay was less than impressed that I hadn’t gone out and bought a new dress for this, but Joe did my hair and makeup, and I could easily say that I looked pretty goddamn hot. If their object was to get me on the arm of a guy tonight, I’m sure any dude would fall for this transformed woman, caked with makeup to remove any flaws. Only my Joe could pull this kind of shit off.

“Over here,” Clay said, bringing us to a table of friends they had introduced me to last time we had gone out. “You guys all remember Ash, right?”

“Hey.” The two couples smiled. “How’s Santa Clarita?”

“Same as it was when I grew up there.” I smiled.

The lights were low, and the dance floor was filled with people. I hadn’t been out clubbing in forever, and this definitely wasn’t my style, but we were here to celebrate the proceeds of my artwork.

“I’m heading to the bar. I want a strawberry martini,” I said.

“Make that a double, girl.” Joe laughed. “You’re way too sober.”

“Love you.” I smiled at him as he danced in place. “Get your ass on the dance floor. I’ll catch up and be out once I loosen up more,” I smiled through my lie.

“Hey,” I said, sitting at the bar.

The bartender walked over. “What can I get for you?” he asked over the music.

“A strawberry martini, please,” I requested.

“Right on,” he said and danced over to where he started making the drink.

“I knew a woman who was passionate about the taste of strawberries,” the familiar voice of Jake said to my left.

He stepped in and motioned to the bartender, who instantly acknowledged him. “Two more, thanks.”

“Really?” I said, my body doing an internal shiver for being this close to him and being reminded at how gorgeous he was. His blue eyes, black hair, and five o’clock shadow. Damn, I missed him. “Passionate about strawberries, eh?” I answered to which he smiled, and somehow the packed club disappeared, and it was just him and me again. I wanted to be nervous, but all of that faded. The connection I always had with Jake surfaced, and I absorbed being in his presence and feeling like we were oddly picking up where we left off.

“Yep. In fact, because of her, I grew to find the same passion in the fruit.”

“Interesting.” I smiled and sipped my martini. “How did you find yourself passionate about fruit because of some girl?”

“Well, I think it was the flavor after having her bite into one, run it down the center of her chest, and…” He smirked, and his eyes dazzled. “Well, you know.”

“I do?” I feigned surprise.

“After tasting the flavor of it from her delicate skin, there’s no other fruit that comes close anymore.”

“Wow, kinky,” I said while he took a sip of his scotch.

“It was heavenly.” He smiled. “The woman was an angel in every sense of the word.”

“Sounds like she was a fallen angel, given the way she introduced you to such an innocent fruit.”

“On the contrary,” he said, licking his lips. “I’d never found a strawberry to be so good. The best part was her love for them and me at the time.”

“Is she here with you tonight? Perhaps seeing you share her intimate stories with me?”

His eyes held mine. “She is here tonight, and part of me believes she might enjoy that I’m sharing these stories with you.”

I took another sip of my martini, my lips suddenly dry. “You’re quite confident in yourself, sir.”

“A trait I carry that almost ruined my life.” He pursed his lips. “Although, hopefully, it will help me regain it again.”

I nodded. “So, you’re the man,” I whispered.

“The man?” he asked in question.

“The one who stole her heart and made her regret every day since letting you go without giving you a chance with all the bullshit you and her went through.”

He licked his lips, and both of us became more serious. “She had no other option. I never gave her a chance to know me well enough to understand the man who’d hurt her with words was an asshole throwing a fit.”

“Perhaps she was an asshole too.”

“Never,” he said.

“You have a high regard for this woman.”

“I would hope she knows that I will forever love her.”

“Jesus Christ, Jake.” I smiled after taking a sip of my martini. “Kiss me or something.”

I barely got that out before his hand was behind my neck, and he smoothly covered my lips with his own. His rich fragrance, his strong arms, and his lack of giving a damn for what people would think of this gesture brought me back to Jake stronger than ever before.

He pulled away and ran his finger over my bottom lip. “I’ve missed the hell out of you.”

“Jake, I’m sorry about everything,” I said.

“Baby,” he said, “I’m sorry for everything. I lost you, and I can’t lose you again. Please tell me you’ll give me another chance.”

“I lost you once,” I smiled. “And after that ridiculous pick-up line, I’m never letting you go.”

Jake pulled me off the stool and held me tightly against his strong body. “You’ll have to forgive that. I’ve been off my game for quite some time.”

I felt his hard cock press against my stomach, and I discreetly ran my hand over it. “Please tell me this part of your game still works.” I arched a flirty eyebrow at him.

“That part of my game,” he said, “is ready to get your ass the hell out of here and back to my place. I believe it’s been too long since my neglected cock had any attention.”

I laughed. “I’d hate to keep it waiting any longer.”

“Where are your friends? I’m taking your ass home.”

“Being rude?” I teased.

“Nope,” he said, walking into the mob on the dance floor. “Taking care of the only thing I care about.”