Page 28 of Mine to Ruin

I lift my chin, a smile lifting the corners of my lips, and I hug him.

With the card digging into my palm, I rush to the elevator. I have to be crazy to do something like this, but the desire to take a glimpse of his collection, to know something more about him, pushes me forward. I’ll blame this one on my rationality plummeting to its death when it comes to Kian.

And it’s O’Keeffe.

So the transgression is worth it.

I slide the card in the door, heart pounding in my ears. When it opens, I look over my shoulder, and rub my damp hands against my jeans. I’m turning into a criminal. The thought alone of him finding me knots up my limbs…and still, I tiptoe further down the hallway.

In front of the wooden door, I try to convince myself I should leave and forget about it.

It’s in vain.

I sneak inside, and the city’s millions of artificial lights are reflected in the windows, casting a dim light on the minimalist décor filling the ample and open space.

Remembering why I’m here, I put one foot in front of the other, my steps echoing in the silence. Years of caution fly by as I push the door open, and my suspicions are confirmed. This is absolutely worth it. I stumble and my hand flies to my mouth when I see his gallery.

Paintings ranging from O’Keeffe, to Picasso, to Kandinsky, and in the middle sits my painting, Light in Chaos.

In Kian’s possession is my most intimate painting and, next to it, one I painted only weeks ago. I swallow the lump of sheer emotions the visual creates and hug myself. I thought I’d never see the painting I did in my darkest night.

It’s the central piece in his collection.

Emotions wreak havoc inside of me, too many at once to focus on. Warmth of him holding my pieces dear, rawness that maybe I would have never found out if I hadn’t trespassed, vulnerability that he has pieces of my soul literally in his collection. I am also flattered, flattered that among abstractionism legends, it’s still my art he cherishes most.

Mine.

My knees weaken and I fall on the turquoise-cushioned couch, which I am sure is also a design piece, and take it all in. I lift my knees to my chest and study each one. All the paintings have something in common, a fear expressed, the battle between bad and good, capturing the essence of life.

Does he feel lost, like he doesn’t fit? Then we have something in common.

I can’t not ask him why mine is the centerpiece. When the chaos and the darkness are so overwhelming, one can only grasp the fine thread of light.

What did he have to go through? So many questions, and so little sense in the answers. I snuggle on the fluffy couch and close my eyes to memorize everything with my heart.

He has pieces of my heart in his collection already, but after tonight he has another one. One he isn’t even aware of.

Chapter 11

Kian

I park the car, trying to ignore Melanie’s laments.

“We could have stayed longer.”

“I’m not in the mood. And I did my part. They only want my money,” I say, sounding tired to my own ears.

She sighs heavily. “You haven’t been in the mood for a while. Does it have anything to do with Miss Sunshine and your dear brother?”

“Melanie.” My voice lowers, the warning in it clear when she mentions Ellia. My mood plummets with every day I don’t see her.

Melanie raises her hands and asks, “Shall I come up with you?”

I rub my temples, and I wonder why I keep saying no to her. Our arrangement worked. It’s not like I can have the one woman I want, anyway. I shake my head and jerk my chin to the door. She gets out with a huff.

Ellia, Ellia, Ellia. Her sweet lips, her inquisitive blue eyes, her putting me in my place.

Fuck, I need a taste. Is this how addiction starts? One taste and you’re hooked—because I never have exercised so much control.

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