Page 47 of How to Get Even

Sascha Levy was a tall, angular young woman who wouldn’t grow into her hard lines. But she was striking and defiant and Chase liked that a lot. She was going to need some of that defiance if he had any hope of pulling off what he wanted to, now that he’d seen her artwork.

Potential, the professor had said. Patronising ass didn’t even know what he had here. The man had probably locked himself away at this college for nearly thirty years, never challenging himself, or his creativity, as much as his students did.

Christ, he was furious. He knew it wasn’t the professor. It was being here. The energy, the creativity, Sascha’s work on the walls, and fucking hating that it wasn’t his. That he wasn’t the one with the paintbrush, that he wasn’t the one pouring out his inner essence on the walls and not giving a shit who saw and thought what.

He hadn’t felt that way foryears.

She deserved more time. Time that she’d probably take for granted, just like he had, but she was also ready. Towork, to sell, to show, for her pieces to be seen.

Chase was aware of the weight of Bella’s gaze, flicking between them and the walls.

‘You need a lot of work,’ he said truthfully, but he could see it: what she really could be.

‘What did you use here?’ he said, walking over to one canvas.

As Sascha walked him through her process, he took it all in.

Monochromatic slashes, with texture and tears and energy. Fury, anger, hunger.

Relentlessly physical.

Something deep within him recognised her talent and cried out in joy at seeing it.

‘You have more?’

‘Yes,’ she replied.

‘Is this your only studio space?’ he asked.

‘I have… a space,’ she replied a little cryptically.

He’d let her have that. Because every artist needed safety. Somewhere they could be completely them without fear of judgement, observation. Somewhere to experiment, somewhere to…fuck up.

‘Some of these are good starting points, but we’d need more.’

‘We?’

‘Nayak,’ he said.

‘Your new gallery,’ she said as if it were a little pet project.

He smiled at her. ‘You can get cocky, that’s fine. We’ve all been there, we’ve all learned the hard way. You’re good, but you need work and direction and you know it.’

Sascha ground her teeth together, but nodded.

‘And you’re not getting it here.’ It was a statement, not a question, but he was glad that she recognised it too.

‘No, sir.’

‘Don’t call me sir.’

‘Gotcha.’

Chase hid a smile. ‘I’m going to find you some space, we’ll take a few days and see where we get to. And we’ll take it from there. How does that sound?’

‘Amazing,’ Sascha replied, for once the guard dropping from her eyes, and the prospect of working with someone she admired practically shining from her skin.

Christ, he felt old.

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