Page 80 of His to Possess
"Luka paints his "muses" as souvenirs, capturing moments of their essence on canvas. You do the same with your albums for your "collectibles." Different mediums, same concept."
I saw the realization dawn on Rex's face, followed quickly by a flash of… was that shame? It was gone before I could be sure.
"I suppose you're right," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving mine. "But Laurel, you have to know…"
I shook my head, cutting him off again. "No, Rex. I don't have to know anything. What's done is done. The question is, why are you here now? And how on Earth did you find me?"
"Greyson helped me track your flight to Paris," Rex explained. "I needed to make sure you were okay, Laurel."
My heart raced as I processed this information. Greyson - of course. Rex's friend with military connections. I should have known he would have ways of finding me.
"I understand why you left Chicago," Rex continued, his gray eyes intense as they searched my face. "After what you saw in the vault, how I treated you… I don't blame you for running."
I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. He didn't understand, but I didn't have the luxury to correct him.
"And Paris," he added, gesturing vaguely at the cramped studio around us. "I get it. You loved this city, despite everything that happened here. It makes sense you'd come back."
Relief washed over me as I realized Rex didn't seem to know the real reason I had returned to Paris. He had no idea about Alain, about the blackmail, about the danger I was in. Part of me wanted to tell him everything, to unburden myself of this terrible secret. But I couldn't. I wouldn't drag him into this mess.
I remained silent, unsure how to respond. Gratitude mingled with wariness as I considered Rex's presence here. He had come all this way to check on me?
I felt unsteady as I looked at this new Rex before me. My defenses were melting away, and I wasn't sure how to handle this softer version of the man I thought I knew.
"What happened to your face, Laurel?" Rex asked, his voice low and controlled. "Who slapped you?" His eyes flicked to my wrist. "And what about your wrist?"
I wasn't used to him being so calm, so compassionate. It threw me off balance, making it harder to maintain my resolve. I swallowed hard, scrambling for a believable lie. I tried to pull at my sleeve to hide the mark.
"It's… It's nothing," I stammered. "Just a rough neighborhood. Someone tried to mug me on my way back to the studio."
The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I hated lying, especially to him, but I couldn't drag him into this mess with Alain. It was safer for everyone if he didn't know the truth.
He stayed silent, his gray eyes studying me intently. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, and I prayed he didn't see through my flimsy excuse.
Suddenly, he stood up, his tall frame filling the small space. My heart raced as he moved closer, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. But instead, he leaned forward, his mouth close to my ear. His cheek rasped against mine, raising goosebumps in its wake.
I felt Rex deeply, his chest expanding against me. His lips brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Thank you for your letter, Laurel," he murmured, his voice low and intense. "I wish it hadn't ended that way. I wish… I wish you could forgive me and come back. But I understand and respect your wishes."
My heart clenched at his words. I wanted to tell him everything, to explain why I left, why I was here in Paris.
"Never lose your spirit, Laurel," Rex continued, his breath warm against my skin. "Never lose that stubbornness, that love of art. I'll never forget that spark in your eyes when you looked at the watercolor. All of you… you'll be imprinted in my bones. I'll never forget."
Tears pricked at my eyes, and I blinked them back furiously. I couldn't break down now, not when I had come so far.
"There's one last thing I need to do in Paris," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "And then I'll leave. I promise I'll never try to contact you again."
I believed him. If there was one thing I knew about Rex Compton, it was that he was a man of his word. It was for the best, I told myself. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? But the thought of never seeing him again left me feeling hollow.
Rex started to pull away, and panic surged through me. Before I could think better of it, I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He looked down at me, surprise flickering in those silver eyes I had come to know so well.
I searched his face, trying to memorize every detail. The sharp line of his jaw, the intensity of his gaze, the way his presence filled the room. I didn't know what I was looking for, what I hoped to find. But I couldn't let him go. Not yet.
I blurted out, "Before you leave, you owe me my prize."
Rex froze, and I almost smiled at seeing him taken off guard. It was rare to catch the great Rex Compton by surprise.
"You remember, don't you?" I continued, my heart pounding. "If I won your challenge, I could ask anything from you."
