Page 134 of Their Courtesan
Her other hand moved through his hair. “I love you, Miguel.”
“And I love you, Judith.”
They shared this moment a bit longer before they both simultaneously came to their senses. Miguel helped her stand on her own feet again, her hair mussed but sweater dress unscathed.
“I have to get back to the party…” Judith struggled to get her eyes to focus on him.Damn, was I that good that quickly?“You should probably go… I’ll see you in a few days…”
Miguel fixed the hem of her dress. “You might want to stop by the restroom first,mi amour.You’re not supposed to embody those paintings, I think. Not quite that much.”
She strained to laugh. “Yes, you’re right.” Her hand coaxed his head down for one last kiss. “Thanks for coming by.”
“You’re welcome. Now get back to your client. I’m sure he’s paying handsomely for you.”
Now her laughter erupted. “Not as much as I’m going to pay for this later.”
Miguel watched her head back to the party, gradually regaining her composure and confidence.That woman loves me.He didn’t care how many of those other men and women looked at her with the same gaze of awe that he had. They should. Everyone should see what he saw when she walked away, whether it was in a designer skin-tight sweater dress, lingerie, or a jeans and T-shirt.
They should see the same golden goddess that he saw, radiant and regal.
After gussying up in the men’s room, Miguel slipped into the back of the party. Far away was Judith, drinking another glass of champagne with her arm wrapped around Seth’s torso. Cameras flashed. People swooned over their casual glamour.
Miguel didn’t venture farther. He needed to get back. Catch a plane south so he could go home… he wasn’t going to stay in New York.
When he turned around, he faced a particular painting.
It was Judith, of course. He wasn’t too stupid to be surprised by that, but unlike the other paintings – which were of course beautiful in their own rights – this one showed her in a particularly vulnerable state. She lay on her bed, so languid and relaxed that Miguel didn’t doubt that she had recently been with a man, let alone enjoyed herself. Then Miguel looked closer. There was something familiar about the clothes strewn across her bed and the way her hair fell that way.
Fuck me, that was the day I barged in there.The client she said she had to get ready for… that must have been Seth.
He painted it?
The look on Judith’s face exposed the truth.“The Courtesan Caught,”the placard said. Miguel didn’t need to read the brief description. He saw the confusion, the pain, the light of love in Judith’s face. She swung between two worlds, each dominated by a different man. Any desire she felt or decisions she made would be a direct result of that day.
Yet the way it was painted, with such careful and loving attention to detail, crafted Judith’s boudoir world and brought it to life.
Miguel had seen a million paintings in his life. Galleries, classes, his mother’s private collection she had accumulated while he grew into the man he was now… they all showed certain levels of skill and passion. Miguel may not have known much about Seth, let alone have ever heard his name in the art circuit, but he could tell from studying this painting that he felt nothing less than an earthshattering love for his muse. Miguel did not doubt that the other paintings told a similar story, but it was this one, indirectly involving Miguel, that made him have an incredible realization.
There was only one way to settle this whole dispute. Miguel and Seth had won their separate battles, but in the War for Judith, something drastic had to be done.
Miguel sent his assistant Aimee a curt text and left the gallery.
***
Four days later, Miguel sat a bar known for its masterful chardonnay selection and German beers. He couldn’t say if they truly were masterful, since his mind was so full of what he intended to do, but they settled his nerves and allowed him to become the smooth and suave businessman his family had trained him to be.
“Would you like another, sir?” the bartender asked, holding up a German beer bottle.
“Make the next an ice water, and we’ll see.”
“Certainly.”
An exasperated sigh sounded behind him.
“Should’ve known it was you.”
Seth stood in jeans, collared shirt, and smart dinner jacket. All designer, of course, but far more casual than the tailored Italian suit fastened to Miguel’s body.Doctors. Artists. They’re the same in that regard. Both can only think of casual comfort.Not that Miguel could blame them.
“You probably should’ve known a lot of things before we came to this head,” Miguel said, shrugging. He motioned to the empty stool beside him at the bar. “Have a seat. First one’s on me.”
