Page 55 of The Charmer

“Hell,” she muttered, sitting bolt upright and staring blankly at the vivid canvas, wishing she could turn the clock back a few minutes and wipe out her insane thoughts.

Because once her stupid inner self had raised the possibility, she knew without a doubt the truth would destroy her and she wanted to head-bang the canvas repeatedly in the hope it would knock some sense into her.

“Bella, are you here?”

Ariel hadn’t heard the chimes signalling Sofia’s entrance into the gallery—the fault of her insane inner voice whispering crazy stuff about loving Cooper Vance—and she wasn’t in the mood for a chat.

Maybe if she pleaded a headache she could get rid of her friend, close up for the day, and harass some poor courier to deliver a bomb along with the signed papers to Cooper?

Thanks to him, she had no option but to sign his stupid proposal courtesy of his traitorous deadline.

“I’m in the studio, Sofia,” she called out, cleaning her brushes and palette out of habit rather than a driving necessity to do so.

Besides, she needed something to do with her hands other than put the finishing flourish on the document signalling her ultimate demise.

“There you are, my beautiful girl.” Sofia bustled into the studio, dressed in head to toe fuchsia and sporting a hat boasting massive feathers that could take out a person’s eye at twenty paces. “How are you?”

Ariel turned from the sink and rubbed her hands down the front of her smock. “I have a headache.”

To her surprise, Sofia laughed rather than cooed in concern. “Must be all that paint seeping into your brain,” she said, pointing to Ariel’s forehead and grinning, her perfectly capped teeth in stark contrast to the bright pink of her dress.

Ariel managed a rueful smile as she picked up a nearby rag and swiped at her forehead. “I forgot in all the excitement.”

“Excitement?” Sofia’s nose twitched at the faintest hint of gossip usually and, like a rabbit sensing a juicy carrot, her nostrils quivered.

“Yes, the excitement of trying out a new technique. I read about a tribe in Africa who only paint with their heads so thought I’d try it. Want to see the results?”

Ariel’s grin broadened at Sofia’s confusion. In a way, Sofia’s impromptu visit had achieved a miracle already. She’d smiled, when a few minutes earlier it had felt like she’d never smile again.

“What on earth is that?” Sofia’s hands flew to her mouth as she stared at the canvas, her shocked gaze darting between the painting to Ariel’s face and back again.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s horrible.” She tut-tutted. “It’s nasty. Angry. Ugly.” She waggled her finger. “No, no, no, this is not you at all.”

Ariel stood alongside Sofia and stared at the canvas, the vivid streaks of red, black, and yellow telling an emotional story she couldn’t hide.

“I take it you don’t want to buy this one for your collection?” Ariel asked, slightly embarrassed as she cast a critical eye over the painting. Usually, she expressed herself through her art, a way to feel good about the world, a cathartic experience. But seeing the angry slashes of vibrant paint saddened her and reminded her exactly why she’d picked up the brush on the return from Cooper’s office.

She’d needed to debrief, to off-load, to express the devastation wreaking havoc on her psyche and painting had been her only option. Sadly, it hadn’t helped, and now she had to allay Sofia’s qualms before she blurted the whole sorry tale to her friend.

“What is it, bella? What is the problem?” Sofia grabbed her hands and squeezed, her coal-black eyes beseeching, a frown creasing her brow.

“No problem,” Ariel said, using every ounce of self control not to fall into Sofia’s arms like a babbling mess.

“Is it money? You need more than what the commission brought you? I can give it to you right now.” Sofia released her hands to scramble in her handbag for the cheque book Ariel knew she always kept on her ‘in case of a bargain’. Nobody used cheques these days but Sofia was old school—cash was king, apparently—and credit cards were for suckers.

Ariel laid a hand on Sofia’s arm, stilling the scrambling woman. “I don’t need money,” I need a miracle, “but thanks for offering.”

“You sure?” Sofia didn’t appear reassured, studying Ariel’s face with an intensity that bordered on uncomfortable.

“I’m sure.”

Ariel could never ask Sofia for the money to buy out the lease on the gallery. She would never risk their precious friendship over a loan she had no way of repaying.

Aunt Barb had taught her many things, one of them being never borrow more than you can repay, and she’d adhered to that policy her entire life; which explained why she didn’t own a car, had no mortgage, and paid her rent on time most months.

Until now.

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