Page 26 of Painted in Sin

21

ISABELLA

Each time I dip my brush into the mixed oils, I'm brought back to a much younger me, the me of fifteen years ago, poised to enter art school as just a teen. A time before my father died and left me alone with a legacy of confusing passion for art and the history behind it.

The landscape stretching out before me on the canvas is a memory, my grandparents' property tucked away as a memory in my mind. I think of it often, how many times I've wanted to paint this exact scene but haven't. It makes me feel things and remember my father and the way he would caution me against getting too curious about what he called "the darker side" of art. He always wanted me to be a creative, but my heart led me down the path he didn't want for me, anyway. And now I'm here, lost between what I should be and what I am fighting not to be.

I stand back, looking at the pink and yellow hues of the sunset over the barn and pasture. How many times did I stand there with my easel and paint a cow or a chicken and my papà would praise me? I entered art school at sixteen, graduated bynineteen, hailed a savant by the art world and an expert by twenty-one at authenticating more than one artist's work.

Now I feel like a fraud. So many emotions roil around inside my mind as I stare at my own work, almost finished. The palette in my hand feels like it belongs there, but not here—not surrounded by Victor's stolen masterpieces and his own artwork. I feel transported in time to a place I don't belong, where I don't fit. Papà made me promise to watch myself, to stay away from thieves and smugglers. Then I became one. I am one. A fraud.

Tears well up and roll across my cheeks. I set the palette down, put my brushes in the glass of thinner. I want to tear the canvas to shreds, pour the thinner over it and destroy the memory, but doing so won't destroy the memories or make time reverse. Nicola dragged me into his world of lies and schemes, and I thought I'd escaped it. I wanted nothing more than to do what Victor dreams of—living a life separated from the mistakes of my past—but the darkness follows me in ways I can't understand.

I pull up a stool and sink down onto it as I wipe away the tears. Everything I've learned in the past month has brought more confirmation to my heart that my father's death wasn't an accident at all, and confessing that to Victor last night made it more real. The world I live in is a dangerous place, which makes Victor's invitation to something better than this seem ethereal, almost unreal.

It's like my father knew about the secrets these old artists hid from us in riddles and mysteries. Like the reason he was taken from me had more to do with the dark world he warned me away from than the slick roads that night. I should've known better as soon as Nicola asked me to help him protect that painting, andI should've told Mr. Giani the very instant Victor Costa put that gun in my side. I could've spared myself this entire mess.

"Bella, it's beautiful," Victor breathes, and I jerk my head up. I didn't even realize he was in the room with me. He stands a few feet away from the painting staring at it with wide eyes, and I feverishly wipe the tears from my cheeks as he turns to look at me. "What's wrong?" He pulls up a second stool and sits on it, taking my hands into his.

It's all too much, the memories of my past, my father, the dreams I've had for myself, and now the pressure of what's happening with Victor's painting and the men who are after me to hand it over. I just want a normal, peaceful life.

"Talk to me," he urges, and he shakes my hands. "If this is about your artwork, Bella, it's beautiful. I can sell that. People will love it."

I shake my head as more tears fall, and I let them without trying to wrestle my hands away from his to wipe them off my cheeks. It's about him, about my heart. I'm afraid where this is taking me, this path I'm on. I'm falling in love with a man who is no good for me or my future again, and I am terrified of what that means.

"Victor, I can't…" I start to protest the life he thinks I should be living, but he holds a finger to my lips.

"Deep breath," he coaches, so I listen, breathing in deeply to clear my thoughts and release stress.

"I'm afraid," I confess. His gaze is earnest as he listens to me. "The men after your painting, after me… They aren't going to stop because you have wishful thinking. And my father warned me to stay out of this business." I gesture as I speak, and Victorgives me the freedom to move my arm but then holds my hand again as I continue. "What does my future look like if men like you can just track me down and thrust me back into the same mess I'm in now? I'll never have peace." I cover my face and cry harder, and he pries my hands away.

Then his hands wipe away my tears as he cups my cheeks while his thumbs continue to smooth away tears. "Those are huge fears, Bella. I can see it's a lot for you to take in." Victor pulls me into his arms, and I stand and rest my head on his shoulder as he hugs me. "I never meant to bring this all onto your shoulders."

"Help me get out of this?" I ask him softly, and he nods and holds me more tightly.

"I want that, for both of us. I mean it, Bella. I want a life where we put our past behind us, a life where our futures don't have to be tainted by past mistakes." He grips my head with both hands and pulls me back so I'm looking him in the eye. It's an intense stare I can't pull away from.

"Yes, I want that," I mutter, not sure what I'm consenting to, but my heart tells me it's what I should say. The kiss that comes next is slow and deliberate, a forever kind of kiss. His lips tease mine before he deepens it, pulling me into the passion that ignites his gaze, and I melt against him.

There's heat in my chest, a need I didn't know was there until he made me feel it.

"Tell me," he whispers against my lips, "are you afraid of this?" And I kiss him again, whispering my answer back.

"No."

Victor is as serious as ever. He rises and pulls the belt of his robe which I’m wearing, untying it. It falls open and his hands find my skin. His hands blaze a trail up my sides, making me shudder. He looks down at me with a warm smile, one of the first I’ve seen from him, and caresses my cheek.

"Victor," I whisper, suddenly feeling shy.

“Shh,” he whispers as his hands slide across the curve of my ass to the backs of my thighs. He lifts me, and I wrap my arms around him as he carries me across the room to a desk situated in the corner near the frosted-glass window. He sets me down gently on the cold, smooth surface, and I let the robe fall from my shoulders as he parts my knees while nestling between them. His lips capture mine again as his hands begin to search my body.

His touch is gentle, yet insistent, igniting a fire inside me I've only just begun to understand. Victor's hands leave no part of me untouched as he explores my exposed skin. His hands trail down my chest, around my hips and back up again. I gasp when his index finger finds my clit and flicks it, and he smiles against my mouth as he kisses me deeper.

"God, you're beautiful," he mutters before lowering to his knees, head between my thighs. His tongue grazes along my folds, finding all the sensitive spots. My hips rock involuntarily as the pleasure builds. He looks up, smirking devilishly as his fingertips circle my core and then slip inside, while his other hand presses my thighs wider as his lips return to suck my clit.

One hand grabs the edge of the desk while my other tangles hand in his hair. I arch my back, bucking my hips against his mouth which eagerly devours every drop of moisture I produce. My entire body is alight with fire, every nerve ending on edge. Iam panting now, desperate for him to end the torture he's been putting me through. I feel like I'm going to combust, but he's relentless.

My muscles tensing, I groan loudly, my orgasm consuming me with so much force my eyelids slam shut and I can’t breathe. For a moment, all I am aware of is the pounding of my heart and the sweetness of the release. My body convulses so hard I almost slide off the desk, and Victor bears up under my weight, draping my leg over his shoulder. I shudder and jolt, and he continues to suck me and fingerfuck me until my body begins to calm.

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