Page 21 of Passion and Revenge

The sudden wave of panic that hits me causes me to leap out of the bed I’m in. I forget my legs are still tangled in the sheets, so I end up crashing to the floor, my already sore head smacking against the black tiles.

“Shit!” I groan, cupping my head and struggling to my feet.

Where the hell am I?

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to sort through my blurry memories. What do I remember?

I remember getting a call from Sal, running into Vincent, going home to find Dad in my apartment, and telling Kat all about it before watching a movie and falling asleep mid-watch. Then, my morning run the next day and the call I got.

It starts coming back to me.

“Hello?” I had said as soon as I picked up the call. I was trying hard not to sound too eager.

“Good morning, Sienna.” Vincent’s smooth voice had come through the phone, and I had almost melted. “Is this a good time?”

I tried not to show how hard I was breathing as I jogged down the street. It would have been embarrassing to have him listen to me panting and wheezing like an elderly dog, just from the small run.

“Perfect time,” I blurted out, then felt like throwing myself right over the nearest bridge.

“That’s good to hear. I’m calling about the paintings we’re supposed to view today. I hope you’re still free to join me.”

I had almost snorted. As if anything would have stopped me from seeing him that day.

“Of course.” It was a miracle I sounded so calm.

“Perfect.” He had sounded pleased, and something inside me had begun to flutter. “Shall we say noon, then? I’ll send you the coordinates. Would you rather I pick you up?”

“I prefer to meet you there,” I tell him.

“Okay, then. I’ll be expecting you.”

My eyes fly open as pieces of my memory begin to fall into place. Vincent had set up a date, and I’d spent my whole morning on a video call with Kat, trying to pick out a dress.

My mouth twitches as I remember that I had shaved and waxed until all of me was baby-smooth. I had even picked out sexy underwear. I’m not one to jump right into bed with any good-looking man that comes my way. In fact, I’m not one to get sexually attracted, not after what happened to me.

Everything is different with Vincent, though.

A wrinkle appears between my brows as I continue to remember our meeting at the storage unit. I shut my eyes and try to piece it together.

“Thank you for coming,” he had said.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I had managed to say, too lost in drooling over the way he looked in the tailored navy suit with a dark turtleneck under it.

“Shall we?” He had motioned for me to walk in first, and with a smile, I had done so.

The unit had been large, every inch of the wall covered with paintings.

“Oh,” I had exclaimed. “I didn’t think there would be this many.”

Inside, I was screaming with glee, already devising a way to slow down the process so it could be extended to the next day, and we would have to see each other again. Pathetic? Most definitely.

“I’m not interested in all of them, Sienna,” he had chuckled, “just the ones over there.”

I followed the direction he was pointing to, where the paintings were displayed on easels. I walked toward them, entranced.

“They’re—” I had trailed off, at a loss of what adjective could encompass how spectacular they were.

“This is how I felt when I looked at The Revelation.”

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