Page 9 of Paint Me Love
My phone alarm goes off before my brain can spiral into deeper speculation.Oh shit, I really need to run now or I won’t make it to work!
“Uh, sorry again,” I tell him, silencing the alarm and tucking the phone in my pocket. “It was nice chatting, but I need to go or I’ll be late for work.”
I toss him another quick smile and brush past him, only to halt when his hand gets hold of my arm. It’s a firm, ‘stop rightthere, I’m not done with you’ hold, and honest-to-god, it makes my cock twitch in the most inappropriate way.
“I think you are already late if you are arriving now,” he points out, tone smug. “And you’re also headed the wrong way. The gallery hall is in the other direction.”
I give him a puzzled look, arching one of my eyebrows. He mirrors my action and then does it again when I cock my head to the left as I try to figure out what he’s on about.
“Oh!” Shit, did he not recognize me? I’m not the most impressionable person, true, but surely he’d remember the artists who won his competition.
“Oh, what?”
His lack of reaction confirms that he’s really mistaking me for one of his staff. Considering how disinterested he seemed when we were introduced, how out of it, I don’t hold it against him. I mean, he was probably doing some other five-billion-dollar deal then, so it explains why he didn’t really pay attention.
“I, uh… I’m not staff. I’m one of the artists.” His face scrunches as his brain finally catches up.Sweet, this is my chance.“And it was amazing chatting with you, Mr. Salinger, but I really have to go to my part-time job, so could you, like, let me pass, please?”
He steps to the side and motions me with his hand, fighting off a smile. “Be my guest, Mr. Artist. I apologize for the misunderstanding.”
Oh, so he does have a sense of humor. I don’t know why he’s exuding such unapproachability, but he’s not just ice on the inside.
“Thanks! And good luck with your next five-billion-dollar deal. You got this!”
I leave him with that in the hallway and hurry to find Cassandra, so I can tell her I’m leaving. She’s sad to hear that Iwon’t stay longer, but assures me the money will be wired by the end of the week.
“Good job again, Daniel. It was lovely working with you, and I just love how your mural turned out. You are really talented. If you need a reference in the future, I’ll be happy to provide one.”
She gives my shoulder a squeeze and hands me her business card, then she’s on her way to greet more guests. Cameras flash in every direction as I look around the gallery one last time, and throngs of people meander around me, making me feel like I’m in the middle of a whirlpool. It’s head-spinning, which tells me I’ve reached my limit of socializing for the day. I’m really not good with loud and crowded places, and I did contemplate not coming to the opening, but I am glad that I did and I got to see my mural all finished. People seemed intrigued by it too, if the few I saw standing in front of it were any indication, and that’s the best reward an artist can hope for.
With a bubbly feeling in my chest, I leave the glamorous event behind and join the hundreds of strangers on the street outside. I’m so glad that with the help of my Mystery Guy I went out of my comfort zone and submitted my idea to the competition. And I can’t wait to show him my piece now that it’s done. I open my phone and drop the picture I snapped into our chat, smiling like a kid that’s done a good deed. His work has kept him busy lately and I don’t expect an immediate reply, so I put my phone back in my pocket. By the time I finish work, he might have seen my message.
Smiling, I join the line of people boarding the bus at the stop on the corner. Time will fly and I will be done with my shift in the blink of an eye, I just know it because I can’t wait to see what Mystery Guy says. And most of all, I hope that he likes my mural.
6
Derek
Istandinthehallway for minutes.
Who was this guy?
A smile breaks past all my defenses, materializing into something sinister. I don’t need to see it to know. My heart beats like a beast in chains, ready to rip out of my chest.
No way, could it behim?Myartist? Shit, why didn’t I ask for his name?
It’s a one in three chances that it was him. It’s part of the reason why I haven’t really been here, other than my business trip. I don’t know what to do when I see him. Do I tell him who I am? Do I not? If I want this chatting thing to go anywhere beyond just texting and nudes, I can’t hide forever who I really am. But what if everything changes once he knows? It’s happened before when people found out I was loaded…
I make my way to the hall, trying to get my head back in the game. As much as I’d love to figure it all out now, this can wait until after I’ve talked to Jack Keller. A notification pings on my phone—it’s a message from my cute artist, but I grit teeth and ignore it as I spot my target. Business first, fun after—that’s whatI’m chanting internally while resisting the urge to open my text messages.
I spot Adam talking to an important woman whose name I can’t remember, so I let him be and decide to handle JE Pharma on my own. The whiskey I grab from one of the standing tables tastes expensive in my mouth, fitting the type of event that this is. But the best part isn’t the slight buzz it gives me—it’s the fact that Alistair Devon is here with Jack Keller, the two of them standing in front of one of the first floor murals.
Downing half of my glass, I approach both men. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I hope you are enjoying yourselves,” I say, lifting my drink in a greeting.
Jack and Alistair mirror me, lifting their own glasses. The one with the dirty blond mop of hair and the blue eyes is Devon Holiday’s heir, while Jack has intense brown eyes and a friendly smile. Their suits are as impeccable as mine, custom-tailored to their fit bodies.
“Derek Salinger.” Jack inclines his chin. “I’m impressed so far. Especially by the murals. You do know how to pick your artists well,” he says, eyebrow arching up ever so slightly.
I shrug lightly. “I would have been lost without Cassandra, my gallery manager. If you should praise anyone, it’s her.”
