Page 127 of Stalker's Toy

He reaches out, his long fingers gently caressing my cheek.

Despite everything, I lean into his touch.

There's something both comforting and dangerous about Henrik—like cuddling up to a lion and hoping it won't decide to eat you.

"You're doing wonderfully," he murmurs. "Everyone is captivated by your work. By you."

I laugh softly, the sound tinged with bitterness. "They're captivated by the persona I've created. The tormented artist with her macabre visions. If they knew the real me..."

Henrik's ice-blue eyes bore into mine. "I know the real you, Mia. And you're exquisite."

Before I can respond, he leans in and captures my lips in a searing kiss.

I melt against him, my body responding instinctively to his touch.

For a moment, I forget about the crowd just beyond this alcove, about the weight of expectations pressing down on me.

There's only Henrik, his taste, his scent, the solid warmth of his body against mine.

When we finally break apart, I'm breathless.

Henrik smirks, clearly pleased with the effect he has on me.

"Come," he says, taking my hand. "Let's rejoin the party. I believe there are a few more people eagerto meet you."

I allow him to lead me back into the fray, steeling myself for more small talk and probing questions.

As we emerge from the alcove, I catch sight of my reflection in a nearby mirror.

My lipstick is slightly smudged, my cheeks flushed.

I look... alive.

It's almost jarring.

The next hour passes in a blur of introductions and discussions about my work.

I find myself falling into a rhythm, answering questions about my technique and inspiration with practiced ease.

It becomes almost like a performance—I am Mia the Artist, confident and enigmatic.

But beneath the calm exterior, my mind races.

I can't help but marvel at how surreal this all feels.

Just a year ago, I was a lonely art student, pouring my pain onto paper in the solitude of my tiny flat.

Now I'm the center of attention at a prestigious London gallery, rubbing elbows with the elite of the art world.

And it's all thanks to Henrik.

I glance at him as he chats animatedly with a group of potential buyers.

He's in his element here, charming and magnetic.

When he first approached me about representing my work, I was skeptical.

Why would someone of his status and influence be interested in an unknown student?

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