Page 95 of His to Possess
I glared at him, my voice low and dangerous. "What the hell are you playing at, Luka? That painting… Laurel…"
Seriousness replaced the amusement on his face, an expression I rarely saw on him. "It's not what you think, old friend."
"Then enlighten me," I spat out, taking a step forward. Tristan's hand tightened on my shoulder, holding me back.
Luka's eyes searched mine, his expression uncharacteristically grave. "Are you sure you want to know, Rex? Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss."
I hesitated, the weight of his words hitting me. Did I want to know? Could I bear to hear the truth about Laurel and Luka? The thought of them together made my stomach churn, but the not knowing… that might be worse.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Tell me everything."
Luka nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "The painting was a special request from Laurel herself."
The words hit me like a physical blow. I stumbled back, grateful for Tristan's steadying hand on my shoulder.
"What?" I managed to choke out.
"She came to me, Rex. Asked me to paint her. Posed of her own accord."
I shook my head, unable to process what I was hearing. "But you called her your muse. You said—"
Luka held up a hand, cutting me off. "I know what I said out there, but it's not the whole truth. Yes, I called her my muse, butI don't truly consider her as such. Laurel's a friend, Rex. Nothing more."
"A friend?" I repeated, incredulous. "You expect me to believe that after seeing that painting?"
"I know how it looks, but I swear to you, it's the truth. Laurel and I… we developed a friendship over these past months. She trusts me, confides in me. And when she asked for this painting, I couldn't refuse her."
I struggled to reconcile Luka's words with the image burned into my mind. "Why?" I asked, my voice barely audible. "Why would she want that?"
"That's not for me to say, Rex. You'll have to ask her yourself."
I shook my head, my voice hoarse as I spoke. "I can't. I promised her I'd never contact her again."
Luka sighed, frustration etching lines across his face. "You stubborn fool. Think, Rex. Why would Laurel ask for a reimagining of the Veiled Maiden? Why would she pose nude for it?"
His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I felt my heart race as I considered the possibilities. The Veiled Maiden, Volkov's masterpiece that brought me to the auction, to Laurel.
And now she recreated it. With herself as the subject.
Realization crashed over me like a wave. My breath caught in my throat as the pieces fell into place. This wasn't just about art. This was a message. To me.
I grabbed Luka's shoulder, my fingers digging into the fabric of his suit. "Where is she?" I demanded, my voice rough with emotion.
Finally, Luka smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a keycard, pressing it into my palm. "She's waiting for you. Room 1508. This very hotel."
I stared at the keycard, feeling its weight in my hand. It was more than just plastic - it was a lifeline, a chance to make things right. To see Laurel again.
I looked up to see Tristan, Remy, and Nolan watching me, their faces breaking into encouraging smiles. Without another word, I snatched the keycard from Luka's hand and bolted for the door.
Chapter 30
Laurel
The cold Chicago wind whipped around me, making me clench my teeth, as I stood on the balcony. The deep blue dress I wore reminded me of another night, another time with Rex. My arms prickled with goosebumps, but I couldn't bring myself to go back inside. Not yet. My fingers gripped the railing, knuckles white with tension as I strained to hear the muffled sounds of the exhibition below.
My heart raced, a mix of anticipation and dread coursing through my veins. I couldn't help but wonder if Rex was down there, if he had seen the painting. What would he think? Would he understand the message I was trying to convey?
The distant murmur of the crowd reached me, punctuated by bursts of applause. I closed my eyes, imagining the scene unfolding below. Luka's voice, though indistinct, carried on the wind. My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the cadence of his speech. This was it. The moment of revelation.
