Page 71 of Mine to Ruin

“Man, for her, I would sabotage every fucking thing. Bring me the tapes.”

When he’s in prison, all bets are off, and he will pay my way.

Chapter 21

Ellia

I’m running late, but when Kian stormed into the bathroom, I couldn’t leave him. It was the war brewing behind his eyes, whatever had him worked up made him seek me out. I ignored my common sense and offered him myself to ease the darkness.

Inside the elevator, I bite into an apple, and when the doors slide open, I feel a hundred eyes on me. Anna darts to me, a magazine in her hand, and my stomach turns with the title on the front page.

“When the King of Night Is Between Two Women…Which One Will He Pick?”

My fingers tremble as I read through the article. Whoever wrote it is well informed about the prodigious artist that went AWOL, and the speculation that my paintings are opening in Kian’s gallery. They know I am the artist he picked for decorating his hotel walls, and wonder how we met. They even have a poll asking readers which side they are on, and which woman should he choose?

Nausea hits me, and I excuse myself. I lock myself in my studio and stare at a blank canvas. As my day unfolds, it remains white.

My cell rings, and I take Aubrey’s call.

“Hey.”

“Oh my god, you’re in the gossip section.”

“I know,” I say dejectedly. Suddenly the black and red acrylics call to me.

“Fuck them and their opinion.”

“What if my parents see this? I have to go talk to them.”

“I hate that I am not there to support you.”

After we hang up, it’s Tara’s turn to call me. “How did you find out so quickly?” I ask her surprised. “You’re thousands of miles away.”

“Have you heard of the internet? Everything is online.”

“You read gossip?”

“Yes, ours are juicier.”

I erupt into laughter only to sob the next minute.

“Hey, it’s okay, Ellie, it will pass.”

“That photo...” My insides churn at the memory.

“You’ll never get completely over it if you don’t confront him.”

It was not only the article, but also that pic of me at my last gallery opening, and what happened afterward shot right back to the forefront of my brain. A shudder rolls down my spine and I whisper, “I remembered his dirty hands on me.”

“It’s in the past, and even then, you showed him how strong you are.”

When I hang up, I let it all out with the paint. Later, I take a step back to stare at the red shapes splayed on a black canvas.

At the end of the day, I close the studio and take the stairs down toward the underground arena. Kian is in the middle of the boxing ring, his face giving nothing away as his eyes follow me. I grab my clothes from my bag and dress in a pair of shorts and a tank top.

I step into the ring, and after he wraps my hands, he says, “Try to hit me.”

I launch myself at him, he grabs my hand and turns me around.

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