Page 32 of Impregnated By the Alpha

“Excellent. And do you do these from memory, or do you have your subjects sit for their portraits?”

“Just from memory,” I said. “That’s why they lean toward abstract more than realism.”

“In that case, I want to know what you’d charge for something like this, because I need to commission one for the studio,” he said. “And that wall in the back will be where you can set up your installation as soon as you can bring your finished works in. I’d say we start with three at a time, and we can rotate any new paintings as you complete them. How does that sound?”

“It sounds… great,” I said, surprised at how quickly I had gone from cleaning the studio floors to being asked to decorate its walls.

I was speechless as I listened to him and the two women wax poetic about the beauty they saw in my paintings. I wasn’t humble enough to think they were bad, but I had no idea my work would be met with such enthusiasm.

Walter ultimately commissioned two paintings—the first, a small portrait of himself to be showcased as the owner and proprietor of the studio, and the second, a larger scene that showed the view of Pinedale from the clearing in the forest.

“Any preference on which I start first?” I asked.

“The landscape, I think,” Walter said after careful consideration. “When that’s done, we can feature it at the unveiling of your collection. As much as I like my face, I think the view of the forest will have a wider appeal to your audience. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your talent, Luna.”

I thanked him for his kindness, and he sent me home early so that I could begin my work. I decided to stop at Penelope’s school and bring her home as well, texting Nile on the way so that he knew he wouldn’t need to grab her after work. He immediately messaged me back.

Thanks, Vi. You OK to make dinner? Working late if that’s alright.

“Good news, Pen,” I said as I greeted her at the door. “Your dad’s working late, so we get a girls’ night! You know what that means, right?”

“Pizza, ice cream, and princess movies?” she asked excitedly.

I nodded my head, and we headed to the house. I tossed a few frozen pizzas in the oven and turned on the television in my painting studio so that we could watch movies while I worked on the landscape for Walter. The opening notes to Penelope’s favorite movie played as she snuggled onto the couch next to me, peeking around at my canvas.

“What are you painting?” she asked.

“You know the clearing in the woods?” I asked. “I’m painting that, and the city in the distance.”

“It’s gonna look so good,” she said confidently.

As I started the color-blocking process of the painting, I could tell that she wanted to help. I wordlessly offered her the paintbrush, signaling that she should take it.

“Really? I won’t mess it up?” she asked nervously.

“Of course you won’t,” I said. “That’s the best thing about art. There is nothing you can do that can’t be fixed.”

For the rest of the night, Penelope and I alternated between watching movies, eating, and painting. It was one of the best nights I had ever had in my life.

Before I knew it, my painting was complete and Penny was lying on the couch, fast asleep.

Chapter 16 - Nile

I had told Violet I would be home late, but I hadn’t intended to be gone for as long as I was. By the time I got home, it was far past Penelope’s bedtime, and I prayed that the girls weren’t too upset with me.

My feet took the stairs two at a time until I reached the top floor.

“Violet? Penny?” I asked when I reached the top landing.

There was no response, but I heard the quiet sounds of a television coming from inside Violet’s art studio. I opened the door gently to avoid disturbing her and found Penny asleep on the couch. I smiled at the sight of my sleeping daughter, touched that she had felt comfortable enough with my mate to fall asleep in Violet’s studio. I couldn’t remember a time when she’d been able to fall asleep without me putting her to bed.

“Did you two have a good time?” I asked quietly, spying the half-eaten pizza and pints of ice cream on the coffee table.

Violet was hidden behind the canvas she had been working on and didn’t answer my question. I peeked around to look at her and realized she was crying.

“Vi?” I asked in concern. She sniffled as I knelt down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t speak but appeared to try to compose herself, fanning her face and wiping her eyes on the hem of her shirt. She cast a glance at Penny’s sleeping form.

---