Page 104 of Sinful Blaze

And then I contemplate thumping my forehead against the keyboard until I need concealer for that, too.

40

DAPHNE

The soft knock at my door arrives several hours too early.

Conrad is here, with flowers in hand.

The first thing I notice is how small the bouquet looks compared to what Pasha usually sends me. In fact, one of his elaborate arrangements is taking up a good portion of my side desk as I scramble to gather my wits.

“Conrad! What a surprise!” I force my voice to sound pleasant, despite feeling anything but.

He pushes through the door, holding the vase like a shield. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

Keep it business. “Well, since you’re here, why don’t we go to the conference room?” Where there’s nothing but windows and a clear view for witnesses. I push my chair in and try my best to circumvent him on the way to the door.

Unfortunately, he catches me on the way by pushing those stupid flowers at me. “I wrote a letter for you, too.” He taps an envelope stuck between the yellow roses. “I’m an artist, not a writer, but?—”

“Looks great.” I take the vase and drop it on the desk. “Let’s go hash things out.”

He sighs with relief. “Oh, God, yes, thank you?—”

“About the showing.”

His face falls. But he nods and follows me out of the office and down the hall to the conference room.

“You brought the catalog?” I hold my hand up for him to place the folder into; I don’t look directly at him if I can help it.

Conrad doesn’t pass it over. Instead, he takes the chair next to me, way too close for comfort, and opens it himself. “Turns out I’ve got a few pieces I forgot all about. Dug them out of storage. Figured it’d be nice to show them the light of day.”

“Mhm. I see them.” When I touch the page of photos he took of the unfamiliar paintings, he moves his hand to brush against mine. I yank my fingers away. “We can make a feature segment for these.”

“Actually, I’d love to feature these.” He flips to a different page and proudly shows it to me by pushing the folder closer. And, by default, himself. “These are brand new. My best work, too.”

“Looks like a good group.” I make a note in my tablet, grateful for the excuse to put something between us. “Any special name we should call it?”

“Diaphonous Diaprio. To see through a heart torn asunder.”

I should win a gold medal for the sheer willpower it takes to not roll my eyes. His artwork isn’t the only thing that’s transparent. I clear my throat again, which gives me the idea to get up and grab myself a glass of water from the cart in the corner. “I’m sure that will bring in a good crowd. Very marketable.”

When I return to my seat, I casually pull it far away from him. It’s amazing to me how the smell of cologne I once enjoyed smells almost rotten. His close proximity now makes my skin crawl.

And the way he smiles at me?

Blech.

There’s no going back. He’s giving me the creeps, no matter how hard he’s trying to get in my good graces.

“I’m glad you think so.” He points at an image in the folder. “What do you think of this one?”

I glance at the page and try to pretend to be interested. Once upon a time, I was.

Now? Now, it all looks like dull crayon drawings.

“The grays add a nice depth to the shapes. I can see this attracting some good eyes.”

Conrad looks at me. “I was hoping it would attract your eye. My muse.”

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