Page 57 of Forbidden

Chapter Twenty-One

Rosalie

HavingShane back in my life was a dream come true. We did everything together, and it was like the years apart never happened.

Every day I would continue working on my book. Shane took over the spare bedroom with his art supplies. He was hard at work on the final piece of his series but refused to let me see any of them until they were displayed at the gallery.

I grew more impatient as we got closer to the gallery opening. It reached the point where I couldn’t write anymore because I wanted to see what he had been working on. Eager to get my mind off of it, I picked up the phone and called Noelle.

“Hey, it’s Rosalie.”

“Uh-oh, I recognize that voice. That’s the voice you get when you need me to convince you to not do something crazy.”

I laughed. “No, not this time. I just need a distraction so I figured I’d call you.”

“Sure, what’s going on? How are things with you and sexy Shane, your bad boy?”

“You’re just jealous.”

“You’re right, I am,” she said with a laugh. “It seems like just yesterday you were stalking him in the halls.”

“You’re not helping. I’m thinking of stalking him again,” I said, laughing. “I need you to get my mind off of going to the art gallery. I’m dying to see it, but Shane won’t let me until everything’s perfect.”

“Well, you know how he is, and this is a really big deal.” Noelle was quiet for a moment and then sighed. “I’m sorry, I suck as a friend because honestly, if it was me, I’d be over there already.”

“Really? They crated up everything and delivered it the other day. He’s been there for days now. I was thinking of surprising him.”

“Go! And of course I want details.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said as I raced out the door.

The art gallery was on the main street of Laguna Beach, just a block from the ocean. The front of the gallery was all windows and I tried to peek inside to see if I could see Shane, but all I could see were boxes and crates. As I stepped inside, the door chimed and a large man with thick grey hair, black eyes, and a sharp nose walked over to me. I knew right away he was Dmitri Nikita, artist, gallery owner, and Shane’s idol.

“If you’re here, you work,” he said with a deep Russian accent.

“I’m here to see--“

“You see later, work first.”

Seeing how he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, I followed him into a windowless back room with several unopened crates. Dmitri picked up a crowbar that was leaning against the wall and brought it over to me.

“You ever use one of these?” he asked.

“No, but I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Good, I like that.” He placed the crowbar under the top of one of the crates and popped it open. “Open the crates and then take each piece out. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how valuable these are.”

“No, I got it.”

“See me when you’re done.”

He started to walk out of the room, but I wasn’t going to start working until I knew if Shane’s pieces were there.

“Wait! Is Shane here?” I asked.

His eyes crinkled and his lips broke into a smile.

“Of course he is. And I am under strict instructions to not let you see his exhibit.”

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