The Collector's Desire

Deleted Scene - The Red Woman

My heart pounds as we step out of the limousine, the cool night air hitting my skin. The mansion looms before us, a beacon of opulence and power. I smooth my hands over the midnight blue silk of my gown, Gideon’s favorite color on me, trying to quell the butterflies in my stomach.

Gideon’s hand on my back is both comforting and unsettling. I can feel the eyes on us as we enter, hear the hushed whispers that follow in our wake. It’s a stark reminder that I’m entering a world I’m not sure I belong in.

The grand hall takes my breath away. Marble columns stretch towards the ceiling, and priceless artwork adorns every wall. It’s beautiful, intimidating, and so far removed from my usual world that I feel like an imposter.

I tighten my grip on his arm, seeking some anchor in this sea of wealth and influence. He leans in close, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re tense.”

I force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I’m fine,” I lie, but my racing heart gives me away.

As we move through the crowd, I can’t help but notice the way people react to Gideon. There’s a mixture of fear and respect in their eyes, subtle nods of acknowledgment that speak volumes about his status in this world. It’s both impressive and terrifying.

I try to mirror his confidence, to stand tall and meet people’s gazes, but inside I’m a mess. Every smile feels forced, every conversation a potential minefield. What if I say the wrong thing? What if they see through my facade and realize I don’t belong here?

Gideon introduces me to various people, his voice smooth and assured. I smile and nod, desperately trying to remember names and titles. But with each introduction, I feel more out of place. These people discuss million-dollar deals and exclusive events like they’re talking about the weather. Their world is so far removed from mine, it might as well be another planet.

As we pause by a stunning Picasso, I catch my reflection in a nearby mirror. The woman staring back at me looks poised and elegant, every bit the companion Gideon deserves. But inside, I feel like a fraud. How long before everyone sees through this carefully crafted image?

I stiffen as a statuesque woman approaches us, her green gown hugging every curve. Her beauty is undeniable, and I feel a pang of insecurity as she walks towards us with effortless grace.

“Gideon, darling.” Her hand slides along his arm in a gesture that’s far too intimate for my liking. “It’s been too long.”

I watch as Gideon’s face remains impassive, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes - recognition, maybe even discomfort. My stomach twists as I wonder about their history.

The woman’s gaze slides to me, sharp and assessing. Her smile is dazzling, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “And who might this be?”

“Delilah, this is Tessa Morgan.” Gideon introduces me in a neutral voice. “Tessa, meet Delilah Hubert.”

Delilah’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she extends her hand. “Tessa, what a pleasure. You’re quite different from the women Gideon usually brings to these events. How refreshing.”

Her tone drips with false sweetness, and I feel my cheeks burn. I force a smile, grasping her hand briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Delilah.”

“I must say, I’m intrigued,” she continues, her gaze flicking between Gideon and me. “Gideon’s tastes have always been so predictable. But you, my dear, are a delightful surprise.”

I find it difficult to keep my emotions in check. “Thank you, I think,” I manage to say, my voice steadier than I feel.

Delilah laughs, a tinkling sound that grates on my nerves. “Oh, you are charming. Tell me, what is it you do, Tessa?”

“I’m an art expert and assessor,” I reply, straightening my spine. This, at least, is familiar ground.

“How fascinating,” Delilah says, but her eyes have already drifted back to Gideon. “And how did you two meet? I’m dying to know.”

I feel Gideon tense beside me, his hand at my waist tightening slightly. Before he can speak, I jump in. “Through work, actually. Gideon needed an expert opinion on a piece in his collection.”

Delilah’s eyebrow arches. “Is that so? Well, isn’t that convenient.”

The implication in her tone makes my blood boil. I force a polite smile, my mind racing to formulate a response. Before I can speak, a distinguished gentleman calls Gideon away for a moment. As soon as Gideon steps away, Delilah’s demeanor changes dramatically. Her voice drops low, threatening, as she leans in close to me.

“Don’t get too comfortable, darling. Gideon has a habit of discarding his toys once he’s bored with them. And trust me, he will get bored.”

Her words hit me like a slap. I’m caught off guard by the venom dripping from every syllable. I struggle to maintain my composure. Part of me wants to shrink away, to flee from this predatory woman and her cutting words. But I’m not that person anymore. I’m not the Tessa who ran from Paris, tail between her legs.

I summon every ounce of courage I possess, squaring my shoulders and meeting Delilah’s gaze head-on. “I appreciate your concern,” I say, proud that my voice doesn’t waver, “but I’m not one of Gideon’s possessions. Our relationship is different.”

Delilah’s laugh is cold and mirthless, sending a chill down my spine. “Oh, honey. That’s what we all thought.”

Her words twist in my gut like a knife. I want to argue, to defend what Gideon and I have, but doubt creeps in. How many women has she seen come and go? How many thought they were special, only to be tossed aside?

I open my mouth, searching for a retort, but she not finished yet. She leans in closer, her perfume cloying and suffocating. “Let me give you some free advice, sweetie. Get out while you still can. Before he breaks you like he’s broken all the others.”

I swallow hard, fighting to keep my composure. Her words echo in my mind, threatening to unravel everything I’ve come to believe about Gideon and our relationship. But I refuse to let her see how deeply she’s affected me.

"I understand your concern," I say, "but I think I can handle myself."

Delilah’s eyes narrow, clearly not expecting my resilience. Before she can respond, Gideon returns, his presence a relief.

“Everything alright here?” he asks, his tone casual but his eyes sharp as they flick between us.

“Just girl talk.” Delilah’s venomous demeanor is instantly replaced by a saccharine smile. “Tessa is simply delightful, Gideon. You must bring her around more often.”

Gideon’s arm snakes around my waist, pulling me closer. The possessive gesture doesn’t escape Delilah’s notice, and I see a flicker of something—anger? jealousy?—in her eyes.

“If you’ll excuse us,” Gideon says smoothly.

As we walk away, I can feel Delilah’s gaze burning into my back. Gideon whispers in my ear. “What did she say to you?”

I hesitate, unsure how much to reveal. “Nothing important,” I lie, hating how easily the deception comes. “Just trying to get under my skin, I think.”

His jaw tightens, and I know he doesn’t believe me. But he doesn’t press the issue, instead guiding me towards another group of people.

As the evening wears on, I find myself increasingly on edge. Delilah’s presence is like a shadow, always lurking just out of sight but never far away. She materializes beside Gideon with alarming frequency, her hands finding excuses to brush his arm or straighten his tie. Each time she leans in to whisper something in his ear, my stomach twists.

Gideon handles her advances with a practiced coolness that both impresses and unsettles me. He never encourages her, but he doesn’t outright reject her either. It’s a delicate dance, and I’m not sure where I fit in the steps.

I watch as Gideon effortlessly commands the room. He moves through conversations about million-dollar art deals and exclusive gallery openings with an ease I can only envy. I struggle to keep up, feeling like a fraud every time someone asks my opinion on a piece I’ve never heard of.

He belongs here, with these people. I don’t. And yet, he’s holding on to me. But for how long?

The thought gnaws at me as I catch glimpses of other women eyeing Gideon. Their gazes are hungry, filled with desire and calculation. I wonder how many of them have shared his bed. The weight of his past presses down on me, suffocating in its intensity.

A group nearby discusses the merits of investing in emerging artists versus established names. I try to contribute, but my comment falls flat, met with polite smiles that don’t reach their eyes. Gideon smoothly picks up the conversation, steering it in a new direction, and I’m grateful for the save even as it highlights how out of place I am.

I can’t bear the tension any longer. The weight of the evening, of Delilah’s words, of feeling so out of place - it’s all too much. I mumble an excuse and slip away from Gideon’s side, desperate for some air.

The terrace is mercifully empty. I lean against the railing, letting the cool night air wash over my flushed skin. The Chicago skyline stretches out before me, a glittering tapestry of lights that would normally take my breath away. But tonight, I can barely focus on it.

My mind races, replaying every interaction between Gideon and Delilah. The casual touches, the inside jokes, the history that hangs between them. I’m surprised by the intensity of my jealousy, by how much it hurts to see another woman so comfortable in Gideon’s world.

I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t hear the terrace door open. Gideon’s voice, tinged with concern, startles me.

“Tessa? What’s wrong?”

I turn to face him, struggling to maintain my composure. “Nothing. I just needed some air.” He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.”

“Tessa,” Gideon says, his tone growing more insistent. “I know there’s more to it than that. What aren’t you telling me?”

I shake my head, not wanting to admit my insecurities. But Gideon persists, moving even closer.

“Talk to me, Tessa. Please.”

Finally, I snap. “Fine! You want to know what’s wrong? I hate seeing you with her. With Delilah. The way she touches you, the history between you, it’s killing me.”

His expression softens, a look of surprise crossing his features. “You’re jealous?”

I nod, feeling vulnerable and exposed. “I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t be. But I can’t help it. She fits into your world so perfectly, and I...”

Gideon reaches out, cupping my face in his hands. “Tessa, listen to me. You’re not like the others. I’ve never let anyone this close.”

“But Delilah—”

“Is part of my past,” he interrupts. “You’re my present. And hopefully, my future.”

His words, spoken with rare softness, begin to chip away at my doubts. “Really?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

He nods, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks. “Really. Tessa, you challenge me in ways no one else ever has. You see me - the real me. Not just what I want people to see.”

I lean into his touch, feeling some of the tension drain from my body. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just... I felt so out of place in there. Like I didn’t belong.”

“You belong with me,” Gideon says firmly. “That’s all that matters.”

I take a shaky breath, feeling overwhelmed by his intensity. “But Gideon, look at all this.” I gesture towards the opulent ballroom. “This is your world. These people, they understand you in ways I never could.”

“Is that what you think? That I belong here?”

“Don’t you?” I ask, my voice small. “You fit in so seamlessly. The way you talk about art, about business. It’s as if you were born for this life.”

He lets out a harsh laugh. “Tessa, this isn’t my world. It’s a game, a facade I’ve perfected over the years.”

I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”

“All of this ” — he waves his hand dismissively — “the schmoozing, the deals, the fake smiles and empty compliments - it’s all an act. A necessary evil in my line of work.”

“But you’re so good at it,” I protest.

“Because I’ve had years of practice. But it doesn’t mean I enjoy it or that it defines me.”

His words leave me stunned. I search his face, trying to process this new side of him I’ve never seen before. His eyes, usually so guarded, now reveal a vulnerability that takes my breath away.

“Gideon,” I whisper, my hand reaching up to touch his face.

He catches my hand, pressing it against his cheek. “How could you not see it? Everything I do, everything I am, it’s all for you, Tessa.”

His grip on my waist tightens, pulling me closer. “Do you understand what you do to me?” he asks, his voice rough with emotion. “How much I need you?”

My heart races at his words. I see now that his possessiveness isn’t just about control, but about a deep-seated fear of losing me. He hides it so well, but I can see it now—the fear that drives him. He’s scared, just like I am, of what happens when we let someone in.

This realization shifts something inside me. I reach up, my fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, surprised by the truth in my words.

His eyes darken with desire and something deeper, more primal. He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that’s both tender and possessive. When we break apart, both breathing heavily, his expression hardens with resolve.

“Come with me,” he says, taking my hand and leading me back towards the gala.

“Wait,” I say, pulling him to a stop. “Where are we going?”

He turns to face me, his eyes burning with intensity. “I’m going to show everyone in there exactly who you are to me. No more games, no more hiding.”

I feel a surge of uneasiness in my stomach. “Gideon, are you sure? What about your image, your reputation?”

He cups my face in his hands, his gaze unwavering. “None of that matters. You’re what matters, Tessa. Only you.”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Hand in hand, we re-enter the ballroom. The chatter and music wash over us, but all I can focus on is the warmth of Gideon’s hand in mine and the determined set of his jaw.

As Gideon leads me back into the grand hall, I feel the shift in energy. Eyes turn towards us, curious and expectant. Gideon’s grip on my hand is firm, grounding me. My heart races, a mix of nervousness and anticipation coursing through me.

We reach the center of the room, where the crowd is thickest. Gideon stops abruptly, turning to face me. His eyes lock with mine, intense and filled with a mixture of possessiveness and something deeper, almost reverent. I'm taken by surprise by the raw emotion I see there.

Without warning, he pulls me into his arms. One hand cups the back of my neck, the other splayed across my lower back, pressing my body flush against his. My breath catches in my throat at the sudden intimacy.

Then, in front of everyone—including a visibly shocked Delilah—Gideon kisses me. It’s not a chaste, polite kiss for public consumption. It’s deep, passionate, almost savage in its intensity. I feel myself melting into him, forgetting our audience, forgetting everything but the feel of his lips on mine. The world narrows to just us, the heat of his body against mine, the taste of him on my tongue.

When we finally break apart, both breathless, I become aware of the silence that has fallen over the room. My cheeks flush, but I can’t bring myself to look away from Gideon’s intense gaze.

His voice, when he speaks, is low but carries clearly in the hushed room. “This woman is mine,” he declares, his eyes challenging anyone to object. “And I am hers.”

The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver down my spine, but there’s something else there too. A note of vulnerability that I recognize, even if no one else does. It’s in the slight tremor of his hand on my back, the softness in his eyes when they meet mine.

I stand there, wrapped in Gideon’s embrace, feeling both exposed and protected. The room is still silent, the weight of Gideon’s declaration hanging in the air.

The silence that followed his declaration is shattered by a sudden eruption of whispers. I feel exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely empowered. Gideon’s arm remains firmly around my waist, a constant reminder of his presence and protection.

I notice the shift in how people look at me. Gone are the dismissive glances and pitying smiles. Now, their eyes are filled with curiosity, respect, and even a hint of fear. I’m no longer just an outsider trying to fit in. I’m the woman who has done the impossible—captured the heart of Gideon Winters.

I catch sight of Delilah, her face contorted with fury and humiliation. Our eyes meet for a brief moment before she turns on her heel and storms out of the room. I feel a pang of guilt, quickly overshadowed by a surge of triumph.

As we mingle, I begin to see Gideon’s world through new eyes. Each conversation is a delicate dance of power and influence. Subtle negotiations happen with every word, every gesture. It’s fascinating and slightly terrifying.

He introduces me to a group of art collectors, his hand never leaving the small of my back. “Tessa is an expert in art restoration,” he says, pride evident in his voice. “She’s currently working on a community project to preserve local artists’ works.”

I inhale deeply and start talking about the project. To my surprise, they listen intently, asking thoughtful questions. I realize that I have a unique position now—not just as Gideon’s partner, but as someone with my own expertise and influence.

As the night wears on, I feel a growing confidence. Gideon seems both possessive and proud, always keeping me close. But there’s a new openness to him. When a conversation turns to a particular painting technique, he turns to me. “Tessa would know more about this than I do,” he says, encouraging me to take the lead.

I may not have been born into this world of wealth and power, but I’m determined to carve out my own place in it. For my sake, and for the love of Gideon.

END OF DELETED SCENE

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