SIX
Alexander
“That’s all wrong,”my mother said for the tenth time today.
Mother had nixed every idea Aria had come up with so far. Aria and her friend, Tiffany, had been nice and accommodating but I could tell Aria was becoming frustrated. Not as frustrated as me, but I don’t think it’s humanly possible for anyone to get as frustrated as me.
“Mom, I appreciate your input. Maybe it would be easier for Aria if you told her what you would like to see on the wall.” I ran my fingers through my hair.
Being this close to Aria made my fingers want to curl and tense. I settled on scratching my nails on my scalp—the only acceptable tension relief I could do in front of company.
I thought the mural would be a great way to do something personal, for me. Not just that, but spend some time with Aria. It’s not that I got a lot of chances to hang out with sexy, talented women. It might be an excuse to have her near me, but now I wanted to tear everything down by hand.
My mom walked up to the wall and stood silently. I rubbed my face because I knew what she was doing. She didn’t want this mural. She hated that I went behind her back to do something she didn’t request personally.
Angry and humiliated, that as a twenty-six-year-old billionaire the only thing I was allowed to do without my mother getting involved was buy art. It’s the one thing that she knew I had taste in.
Plus, it added value. Art was an investment, and she preferred anything that would give her more money.
“I’m thinking we leave things the way they are. I love this wallpaper. It’s silk, you know.” She turned with a smile meant to impress the women in this room.
“Then why am I here?” Aria pointed to the wall with one hand and waved her small sketch pad in the other.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dixon, but my son gets ideas sometimes. And while I think they are cute, he has to realize he isn’t eight anymore,” she said.
I gritted my teeth as she walked over to me, adjusting the collar on the blue button-up shirt I put on after everyone came into my bedroom.
“That’s right, Mother, I’m a grown man so I expect to be able to make a decision about my home without you or anyone taking over.” I pushed her hands away.
Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth. I braced myself for the rainstorm of insults that always came. I knew she hated me standing up for myself. My mother still believed when we were in front of company I was expected to speak when spoken to and to do as I was told.
Despite the fact that every time I stood up for myself, ever since I was a kid, my mother ripped me apart, I did it anyway.
She’s talented. Like Aria with her artwork, my mother knew how to find your soul with her words and shake it until it was nothing more than a regret-filled mess.
But this time was different. These weren’t her friends, these were people I knew. People who came here specifically to see me, not her. I refused to let her hurt them or control them like she did everyone else in her life.
When she finally spoke, I was surprised by her words. What she said was strange, even for her.
“Alexander, you are right. It’s time I let you spread your wings. What harm could come from this artist,” she waved toward Aria but kept her eyes on me, “painting a wall? I’m sure whatever you two come up with will be lovely. I trust you, Alexander.”
My mother patted my shoulder before heading toward the door. As she was about to turn toward the hall she turned back. “Ms. Dixon. I will have my lawyers fax over the lease so you can find out what is not allowed to be done to the walls of this place.”
I stared at the door long after my mother disappeared.
“Are you okay, Alex?” Aria’s voice and her light touch on my arm broke me from my shock. A shiver ran up my body and I turned to stare at her beautiful red lips.
“She trusts me. You both heard her, right? She said she trusted me,” I said as I pointed to the empty doorframe.
“Yes, I heard it,” Tiffany said.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t she trust you?” Aria said before she chuckled and shook her head.
Because my mother hated me.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t she trust me?” I tried to laugh too but it was a struggle.
“Mr. Hawthorne.” Tiffany took the sketch pad out of Aria’s hand and brought it to me. “Aria has come up with many designs this morning. Did you want to use any of them or do something else?”