Page 76 of His to Possess
His eyes locked onto mine, and I forced myself not to flinch as he approached. His smile was dazzling, practiced perfection that didn't reach the cold calculation in his gaze.
"Laurel, my dear," he almost purred, placing a hand on my shoulder. His touch lingered far too long, fingers pressing into my skin with just enough force to be a warning. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear. "I trust you'll make excellent progress today. We wouldn't want any… unfortunate setbacks, would we?"
I suppressed a shudder, plastering on a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Of course not, Alain. I'm dedicated to the gallery's success."
He stepped back, nodding in approval, but I could feel his gaze following me as I turned to my computer. My hands shook slightly as I pulled up the inventory records, hyper-aware of his proximity just a few feet away. He lingered, pretending to survey the office while keeping me in his peripheral vision.
I forced myself to focus on the screen, scrolling through the seemingly endless list of artworks. My eyes darted back and forth, searching for any inconsistencies, any hint of the fraud I knew was hidden within these records. Every line of data could hold a clue to exposing Alain's schemes, but deciphering it while under his watchful eye felt impossible.
My heart pounded as I noticed a discrepancy in the provenance of a recently acquired sculpture. It was subtle—a date that didn't quite align with the artist's known timeline—but it could be the thread that unraveled everything. I fought to keep my expression neutral, making a mental note to investigate further when I was alone.
Alain's voice cut through the tense silence, addressing the entire office but his words clearly meant for me. "Remember, everyone, attention to detail is crucial in our line of work. One small oversight could have devastating consequences."
I nodded along with my coworkers, all of us prisoners in this gilded cage. As Alain finally retreated to his office, I let out a shaky breath. The day had barely begun, and already I felt drained. But I couldn't give up.
I leaned closer to my computer screen, my eyes scanning the inventory records with painstaking attention to detail. Every click of the mouse, every scroll through the database felt like a potential landmine. I was hyper-aware of the bustling office around me, the occasional glances from wary coworkers, and the looming presence of Alain's closed office door.
As I worked on the assessment Alain had demanded, I was careful to maintain an outward appearance of diligence and focus. But beneath this veneer, my mind raced, constantly alert for any scrap of information that could prove useful in exposing his fraud.
I cross-referenced acquisition dates with artist biographies, checking for discrepancies that might hint at forgeries. Each time I spotted a potential red flag, my heart rate spiked. I fought to keep my expression neutral, making mental notes instead of physical ones to avoid suspicion.
As the day wore on, I felt the weight of constant vigilance pressing down on me. But I couldn't falter now. Somewhere inthese files lay the key to exposing Alain and clearing my name. I just had to find it before he realized what I was doing.
I rubbed my temples, exhaustion seeping into every fiber of my being. The glare from the computer screen had become unbearable after hours of scrutinizing endless spreadsheets and inventory lists. I closed my eyes for just a moment, seeking a brief respite from the constant strain.
In that instant of darkness, unbidden, Rex's face flashed through my mind. The sharp planes of his jaw, the intensity in his steel-gray eyes, the way his lips would curl into that half-smile that had always made my heart skip a beat. A wave of emotion washed over me, so strong it nearly took my breath away.
I wondered where he was now, what he was doing. Had he moved on already? The thought of him with another woman, touching her the way he had touched me, looking at her with that possessive gleam in his eye—it sent a sharp pain through my chest. I was surprised by how much it hurt, how the very idea of Rex with someone else made me feel hollow inside.
Was she just another "collectible" to him? Another name in one of those haunting albums I had discovered? The memory of those books, filled with intimate details of past conquests, still made my stomach churn. But mixed with the revulsion was an unexpected twinge of something else… jealousy?
I shook my head, angry at myself for these feelings. Rex was dangerous, controlling. I had made the right choice in leaving. Hadn't I?
But even as I tried to convince myself, doubts crept in. The tenderness he had shown in rare, unguarded moments. The way he had held me after nightmares, his strong arms a shelter from the world. The passion in his gaze when we made love, and he tried to act cool—had it all been just an act?
I forced my eyes open, pushing away these distracting thoughts. I couldn't afford to dwell on "what ifs" right now. Alain could walk by at any moment, and I needed to stay focused if I was going to find a way out of this mess.
Still, as I turned back to my work, I couldn't shake the lingering ache in my chest. The realization that, despite everything, I missed Rex—his touch, his voice, even his infuriating control—hit me hard. I blinked back unexpected tears, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard.
I heard Alain's voice boom through the intercom, summoning me to his office. My heart raced as I stood, smoothing my skirt with trembling hands. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever game he was about to play.
The walk to his office felt like a march to the gallows. I knocked softly, my knuckles barely grazing the polished wood.
"Enter," Alain called, his voice deceptively pleasant.
I stepped inside, and the air immediately felt thicker, harder to breathe. Alain lounged behind his massive desk, a predator at ease in his lair. His smile was all charm and venom.
"Ah, Laurel, how's the inventory coming along?"
I forced myself to meet his gaze. "It's progressing well. I've been thorough in my assessments."
Alain's eyes narrowed. "Excellent. Tell me about the Renoir acquisition from last month."
My pulse quickened. That file had raised red flags, but I couldn't let him know I had noticed. "The provenance checks out. All the paperwork is in order."
"Is that so?" Alain leaned forward, his tone casual but his eyes razor-sharp. "And the Degas sculptures?"
I swallowed hard. "Still working through those records. It's complicated."
