Page 26 of The Wife Deception
I panicked, unsure of what to say at first. Then I remembered the conversation Darcy and Thalia had in the bathroom. She knew how we met. She was toying with me. Darcy didn't like me. That was obvious. Or at least she didn't like Aelin. They must have known each other on one of those Lake Trenwood trips she referenced at the gala. She was doing this to rattle me. I turned my attention to the floor numbers going up. They were getting closer to our floor. In the corner of my eye, I saw a large group of women approaching.
"We met in my grandfather's conference room," I said. The doors of the elevator opened at that moment. I sashayed into the box and had the satisfaction of seeing Darcy's jaw drop and Thalia's smile as the group of women swarmed them and the elevator closed. Itook a deep breathwhen I was finally alone. I escaped Darcy now, but I had to confront her eventually.
I wanted to get away from here. I wanted to be alone. Truly alone. I wanted to paint. The cool townhouse felt welcoming for the first time in weeks. The house was more homelike now that the renovations were done. I had done little to change it. It was fine as it was before, but I wanted to add a little feminine touch without ruining what was already there. It's not as though I was going to stay here for long. Tyler helped to blend the two tastes which I appreciated.
I also converted one bedroom into a studio and bought art materials and tools with the allowance Nolan gave me. It was the first time I've ever bought premium art tools. I went to my bedroom, removed the stiff suit, and slid into comfortable overalls. The afternoon light streaming through the wide windows made the room warm and inviting. The canvas was blank. The paint brushes were new and the palette blank. I sank onto the rolling stool and began.
***
"What are you—"
The door opened, taking me out of the daze I was in. Half a painting later, the sun had set behind the tallest skyscrapers, darkening theroom, and I had used at least six colors, ripping and strewing paper across the floor.
Nolan was leaning on the doorframe looking handsome with an untied tied around his neck and two top buttons of his shirt opened. I gulped, wondering if he knew what his relaxed, high-powered businessman did to women.
He frowned, crossing his arms. "You paint?"
"I did tell you I wanted to turn this room into a studio and you agreed."
"I am not accusing you of anything. He entered the room, and I had an odd impression of being intruded. As he strode closer, I tilted the painting away from him and when he realized what I was doing, he stopped. "Care to see what you're painting?"
I've never been shy about my work or work-in-progress before, but for some reason I didn't want him to see it. "Not yet."
He nodded, respecting my boundaries and stepping back. "What is it?"
I wasn't sure what it was yet, which was a first for me. "I don't know."
"Ah. You're an abstract painter, aren't you?"
"Yes, but usually… yeah."
"Huh. You don't look like an artist."
I scoffed. "I left my beret and scarf at my apartment."
"Funny."
"Thanks." I got up and put away the materials. Kinks in my back and neck for sitting in one position for too long, making it hard for me to move with fluidity.
I picked up the paintbrushes, which were many. I enjoyed using a multitude of brushes when painting. A couple slipped out of my hand from the loose grip and they rolled to Nolan's feet. I rushed to pick them up, but Nolan stooped at the same time as I and we both bumped into each other. "Sorry,'' I muttered as I reached for a brush, and Nolan's hand grazed against mine as he went for the brush first. Sparks tingled on the back of my hand. I snatched it away and picked up the other brush. We got up at the same time and our eyes met as we straightened. It was hard to see him in the rapidly darkening room, but I couldn't miss the flash in his eyes. It was a desire that matched mine. A feeling that reminded me of the last time we were this close.
I opened my free hand. "Thanks," I said, without taking my eyes away from his imprisoning gaze. That same energy that radiated between us at the Hamptons was back again. Time seemed to slow down as I became aware of other things about him. His scent was intoxicating. His mouth looked so enticing. The way he breathed in and out. The way his eyelashes fluttered each time he blinked. He had dark, thick eyelashes that made him look evenmore beautiful, especially in the low light of the setting sun.
"Why did he call you Aire?"
My heart hammered against my chest as I tried to understand who he was referring to. Then I remembered. Grandfather had used my name when he was brushing me away. I had hoped he did not notice, but it seems like he did. He didn't sound accusatory, so that was good.
"Is that your nickname?" His words were like a caress. How could such an innocent question hold so much weight?
I nodded. "Yes. I prefer Aire actually. Or just Ay" My lips were dry. My tongue darted out to moisten them. Nolan groaned. He pulled me into his arms and before I could react, he had his lips on mine, pressing against them as his arms slid down to my waist. My paint brushes cluttered to the floor, but I didn't care. I yearned to have his mouth against mine again. It had only been weeks since 'the kiss', but it felt like eternity. I wanted him like I wanted no other man.
My hands went to his jacket, and I held on as his tongue clashed with mine. His kiss was deep and hungry. He devoured me endlessly. His arms were all over me all at once, as though he wanted to caress me all over. He crushed me against him and I went willingly, my arms sliding inside his suit jacket and encircling his waist. I kissed himback with the same passionate fervor he had for me.
"Fuck," he said against my lips, grazing them once more before kissing me again. He pulled back, and his expression went from dazed passion to a frown to horror, and he thrust me away from him. I stumbled, wondering what I had done wrong.
"People were right about you."
"What are you talking about?"
