Page 16 of Inheritance
“Hey.”
The voice shattered my focus.
I jolted, my hand jerking, nearly dragging a streak of black across the canvas.
I turned sharply, scowling at Damien, who had somehow slithered into the room without me noticing.
“Would you stop doing that?” I snapped, sucking in a deep breath to calm my nerves.
He smirked, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed like he had all the time in the world to annoy me. “Just makingsure you’re still alive in here. We’re on a tight schedule, you know.”
I waved him off, turning back to the painting, trying to recapture the moment I had lost. “Just finishing up.”
He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Looks done to me.”
“No,” I corrected, voice firm. “It has to be perfect.”
He let out a low chuckle. “It really doesn’t.”
I felt my jaw clench, irritation bubbling under my skin. I placed the brush down carefully, trying not to let him get to me. “It should be perfect,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
I felt him lean in over my shoulder, closer to the painting. “Good thing too.”
I couldn't stop myself. I didn’t want to stop myself.
I whirled around, his next words cut off by a sharp, instinctive slap across his arm. The sound cracked through the air, startling me more than him.
He blinked, clearly not expecting it.
Before he could react, I slapped at him again.
His hand shot out, swatting mine away from him, back toward the canvas.
A sickening, faint scrape filled the silence.
My stomach dropped.
I turned back in slow horror, eyes locking onto the damage.
A thick, jagged indent stared back at me.
No. No, no, no.
I leaned in, heart racing, trying to assess the damage. The paint had smudged. The colors bled together where they shouldn’t have. Worst of all, the canvas itself was damaged. It couldn’t be fixed. It was ruined.
“A week,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “I worked on this for a fucking week.” I screamed.
Damien shifted beside me, unbothered. “Relax, it’s just a?—”
“Shut up,” I snapped, my hands hovering uselessly over the damage, my mind scrambling for solutions.
“Shit,” I hissed throat tightening.
“What’s going on in here?”
The deep, measured weight of his voice stopped my frantic thoughts cold.
I turned, already bracing for the judgment and disappointment on Gabriel’s face as he stepped inside.
