Page 28 of Shattered Hope
I could feel the heat coloring my cheeks, but I did my best to ignore it. “No… I wasn’t… I mean, I know nothing about your life. You could be married or engaged, for all I know…” I added, not sure that was a good idea. I seem to be getting myself deeper into the hole I had just dug.
“I’m not seeing anyone, Anne. If I was, I would have never considered accepting your generous offer,” he pointed out, in a self-mocking tone. “Let me rephrase that… your deceitful offer. Yes, that’s more accurate.”
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Beets weren’t as red as my cheeks. I didn’t think he still resented me for that. After all, he hadn't mentioned it again. Of course, I hadn't seen him much the past week, but I certainly wasn’t expecting him to bring it up again.
“I didn’t intend to deceive you…” I muttered, looking away.
“You didn’t? And yet you never intended to stick to it either. So, how is that not deceitful?” he asked, sounding as if he didn’t give a damn, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.
“I already explained to you why I did it… Will you accuse me of wrongdoing every time we’re together?” I protested, knowing my defense was lame.
“No, you’re right. I shouldn’t have mentioned it again,” he admitted, but somehow, he didn’t sound regretful.
He had deliberately brought up the subject… as if he wanted to see how I would react. Why he would do that was still a mystery to me. But whatever his reason was, he seemed pleased with his little experiment.
“Why did you?” I asked, with a slight frown adorning my forehead.
“Perhaps, I was hoping you would tell me you would honor your offer,” he replied. The intensity in his eyes looking into mine seemed as if he was trying to look into my soul.
“I’m sure you have better options… why insist on mine?” I asked, truly puzzled.
He shrugged. “You intrigue me… and I have to admit I haven’t been intrigued by a woman in a very long time. Your offer woke a part of me that had been dormant for quite some time. Exploring it sounded like a good idea.”
His explanation sent chills down my spine. But not exactly the chills of dread I kind of expected, and that scared me a bit. Jayden Wells stirred my emotions in strange ways, and I still hadn't figured out how to interpret them.
“Sounded?” I heard myself asking, against better judgment.
“It still sounds like a good idea,” he confessed, his tone huskier than ever, each word making my heart beat faster in my chest, with anticipation. “So, I believe we could say the ball is on your court,” he added, and once more, I saw that glimpse of raw lust in his eyes.
The man was good playing these games, I had to grant him that, considering the effect, he was starting to have on me. But what was I supposed to do? Ignore him? Let him know I was willing to act on my offer? I wasn’t even sure I could do that.
I mean… the outcome of such a deed would be terrible, and I could see myself jobless and homeless once more.
I shook my head in a vain effort to clear my mind. “I’m afraid I made an offer on something I cannot deliver.”
“You keep saying that… why? I should be the judge of that, don’t you think?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow.
“Trust me… I know. I’m a disaster… in that… field…” I stammered, struggling to find the right words to tell him the truth without actually spelling it out.
“I don’t think that’s even possible. You should let me be the judge of that,” he insisted, as he called the waiter and asked for the bill. “The show is about to start. We can continue this conversation later,” he said, as he helped me up and guided me out of the restaurant.
The art show was much more than I expected. It was held on one of the city’s most famous art galleries, and tonight was the opening night, so the place was crowded with celebrities and influential business people. Not the crowd I was used to, though Daniel wasn’t exactly a nobody in New York.
The paintings were as good as Wells promised, and I had a great time wandering around the place, contemplating the masterpieces, while Wells discussed business with his acquaintances.
I was particularly interested in one that represented a woman dressed in white running across a dark forest as if hunted by her own personal demons. I guess it hit too close to home.
“Do you like it?” a man asked me, at my back.
“It’s overwhelming… but yes, I do. I always considered this style as the best to portray emotions, with the masterful combination of colors, light, and shadow… don’t you think?” I asked, turning around to look at the man standing behind me.
“I agree with you,” the man said with a wide smile. “Jonathan Spade, at your service,” he introduced himself, stretching out his hand to me.
“Spade? Oh, you’re the painter…” I realized, feeling a bit embarrassed, as I slowly put my hand on his.
“Yes… and you are?”
