by C. Luca
My mouth falls open. His work sells for thousands. To have that kind of money…
“It’s only fair,” Nathan continues. “You’d be the focus of the collection.”
I’m still struggling over the fact that he’d painted me. “More paintings…like this one?” I ask softly. A broken soul shines through those painted eyes so similar to my own. To have an entire collection dedicated to my inner turmoil and demons?
“Yes,” Nathan confirms. “All my work is dark. My intent isn’t to exploit your past or your emotions,” he says in a strong, sincere voice. “I just…feel a connection with you on some level, and I’d like to paint the visions in my head.” He grimaces. I’m doing a shit job of explaining myself.”
“I can’t say that I understand what you’re trying tell me,” I say truthfully. “But what I am taking away from it is that you’re inspired to do this collection. Of me.”
“Yes.”
I purse my lips and think for a moment before I give him a hesitant look. “You do realize that my face could be recognized as a…prostitute, right? That could be bad for your reputation,” I feel the need to point out.
His brows snap together. “I haven’t really thought that far ahead, but even now as you bring it up, I don’t care.” His eyes hold mine with visible determination. “I’d like to paint you, Elena.”
Instead of responding, I hold back and process it all. This was the very last thing I was expecting when he’d said he wanted to show me something.
“I don’t need an answer immediately. You can take your time and think it over,” Nathan offers as his voice cuts into my thoughts.
There isn’t really anything to think over. He’d had me at fifty percent of the earnings. As much as I dislike the idea of strangers seeing everything that makes me vulnerable, the money will help me build a life—one that I can claim as my own and be proud of.
“I don’t need to think it over. You have my permission,” I say softly.
Nathan looks at me intently, as if sensing my reluctance. “You’re certain?”
I nod. “I can sign whatever you need.”
He breaks into a smile as relief shines in his eyes, and the sight steals my breath. “Thank you, Elena.”
“You’re welcome.”
“As long as I’ve got you up here, can I take a couple photos of you? I can use those to help with your facial structure instead of asking you to pose for me.”
“Sure.”
He promptly moves to a counter where drawers are located, and he digs out a camera and an SD card.
“What do you me to do?” I ask, feeling awkward.
“Just stand there, face relaxed. I’ll take photos from every angle.”
I hold still as he moves around me, camera clicking away.
* * *
The next few days pass uneventfully. I barely see Nathan since he’s in his studio during all his spare time. It’s weird knowing he’s painting me. I’m still disturbed by it all, so I haven’t tried to take a peek at his newest creation. Maybe it’s best if I don’t see them.
Instead of dwelling upon the actual paintings, I try to focus on the money. I’m saving most of my paychecks instead of spending them. I’m collecting a hefty safety net in case this job goes south. I refuse to go back to my old life. I have no idea what my future holds, and for the first time in a long time, I’m looking forward to it.
The house is pleasantly quiet as I tidy up the kitchen. I’m turning to leave when something brown and slender slithers near my feet. The sight of the snake is so unexpected that a startled scream leaves me as I instinctively try to jump out of the way. Unfortunately, I trip over my own feet and begin to fall to the floor. My left hand extends outwards to break my fall, and a burst of pain shoots through my wrist as I hit the floor.
The snake gracefully slithers away, thankfully in the opposite direction that I’d fallen. Somewhere nearby, Blue barks, and I can hear his nails on the hallway floor as he races for the kitchen to see what all the ruckus is about.
I quickly scramble to my feet, holding my injured wrist to my chest as Cameron bursts into the room with Blue on his heels. Cameron looks around with alert eyes, visibly searching for the cause of my scream. “There’s a snake. I think it’s on the other side of the island,” I explain as my thundering heart begins to calm.
Cameron strides around the island, and his expression relaxes as he bends down and disappears behind it. “It’s just a rat snake.”
“Oh my God, don’t pick it up!” I exclaim.
He straightens, the wiggling three-foot snake firmly grasped in both fists. Blue jumps up and down at his feet, as if begging to get to the unhappy snake. “They’re harmless,” Cameron assures. “Let me go run him outside quick.”
I give him a wide berth as he exits the kitchen with Blue on his heels.
Nathan hurries into the kitchen a few seconds later, his brows furrowed. “I thought I heard a scream.” He’s wearing a white, tee shirt that’s splattered with paint, his jeans are torn at the knee, and paint specks his mussed hair.
I’m beginning to feel a little self-conscious over my dramatic reaction to the sight of the snake. “There was a snake.”
His eyes lock on my wrist with alarm. “Did it bite you?”
I shake my head. “Cameron took it outside.”
Nathan immediately comes closer. “Something wrong with your wrist?”
His question has me glancing at it as I ease it away from my chest. The pain has intensified, and it’s swelling while bruising is beginning to appear. “I fell on it,” I say unhappily.
Nathan’s expression turns concerned. “That doesn’t look good.”
“I’m sure it’s just a sprain,” I assure.
“What’s just a sprain?” We look up as Cameron re-enters the kitchen, Blue nowhere in sight.
“Her wrist. She fell on it,” Nathan tells him.
Cameron walks over and peers at it with critical eyes. “Can you wiggle your fingers?”
I try and wince. “They feel stiff.”
“It might be broken,” Cameron states.
“I’ll take her to the hospital,” Nathan says easily.
My heart speeds up. “No, no hospital,” I quickly interject.
Nathan looks at me patiently. “If it’s broken, it needs to be set and put in a cast.”
I’m now shaking my head adamantly. “There’ll be questions,” I say deliberately, hinting at my illegal status here in the States.
Cameron, sensing that he’s no longer a necessary part of the conversation, tactfully slips away and disappears from the kitchen.
Nathan looks at me with serious eyes. “Elena, you still need to get it checked. I’ll handle everything, including the bill. We’ll keep it all out of the system,” he assures.
I look at him doubtfully. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He gives my swelling wrist a deliberate look. “I’m sure it won’t.”
My eyes drop, and I finally admit that it might be more than just a sprain. “Are you sure?” I ask unhappily, my brow creasing.
“Yes, and I’ll take care of it. I promise.” He moves away to pull out a dishcloth from one of the drawers. After filling it with ice, he brings it over to me. “Put this on it to help with the swelling. I need to go change, and then we’ll go to the hospital.”
I barely have a chance to nod before he’s striding out of the kitchen. My woeful gaze studies my discolored wrist before I place the bulky dishcloth on it, wincing. I have a terrible feeling that it’s broken, and that’s going to hinder my ability to do my job.
A few minutes later, Nathan is back and wearing fresh jeans and a tee, though he still has paint splatters in his hair. He escorts me down to the garage level and leads me to one of the vehicles that I haven’t been in yet. This one is gray and still sleek but not as flashy as the other sports cars.
Soon, we’re leaving the gated community behind, and I’m looking at him glumly. “Please deduct the medical bi
ll from my paychecks until it’s paid off.”
Nathan glances at me as if I’ve offended him. “Nonsense.”
“Nathan, it’s not your fault I fell.”
He gives me a look before returning his attention to the road. “It’s my kitchen, and there was a snake in it. You wouldn’t have fallen if you weren’t working for me.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Let’s agree to disagree at this point,” he cuts in.
I release a sigh. “Agreed.” My eyes drop to my wrist. “You think it’s broken, don’t you?”
“I think there’s a good chance.”
My heart sinks further as my anxiety begins to build.
It’s not long before Nathan’s suspicion is confirmed. An X-ray had shown it was broken, but thankfully it was a clean break, and after a couple of hours of lingering in the ER, I was released with a cast and sling.
Nathan opens the passenger door of the car, and I gingerly ease into the passenger seat. It’s a bit of an obstacle trying adjust the seatbelt so that I’m comfortable. My wrist aches terribly even with the pain reliever I’d been given.
I’m silent as Nathan begins to drive us back to the estate, and I watch as he merges with traffic.
He glances at me, noting my expression. “Hey, it’s only for six weeks.”
I feel the absurd need to cry, and I ignore the telltale sting. “I can’t do my job,” I say hollowly.
We come to a stop for a red light, and he looks at me with surprise. “Wait, that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Nathan, that’s the entire reason I’m here. I’m being paid to work.”
He looks directly into my eyes. “You got hurt on the job,” he corrects. “So just like any other employer, you’ll get compensation and time off until you can do the job properly—when you’re fully healed.”
I look at him as if he’s lost his mind. “I can’t just do nothing for six weeks!” I sputter.
The light has turned green, and his focus returns to the traffic as we ease forward. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t feel right, that’s why.”
“It’s not like you have a choice,” he replies.
I’m amazed he’s being so tolerant of the situation. “You really want me to stay on?”
“Absolutely. If it bothers you that much, do what you can when you’re feeling up to it, but keep that wrist in the sling.” He suddenly grins and looks at me. “Actually, you can still be useful when you’re not on the job.”
I look at him blankly. “How?”
“You can pose for me in the studio,” he says as he faces forward once more. “The photos really don’t do you justice, you know,” he adds.
My face heats from the compliment. “If I’m staying on, let me pay for the medical bill,” I say, determined not to take handouts from him.
Nathan sighs. “It’s that important to you?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
FIFTEEN
Elena
The following morning, Cameron helps me make breakfast. In the beginning, I’d tried to shoo him out of the kitchen, but he was having none of it. Once I’d realized he wasn’t budging, I’d grudgingly allowed him to have his way.
I carefully flip the pancakes on the griddle, thankful that it was my left wrist and not my right that was injured.
Cameron is at the island, slicing fruit and placing them into a large bowl. “You’re not going to try to work today, are you?”
I pile the pancakes onto a plate. “I’ll do as much as I can,” I say honestly.
“You should take it easy.”
Blue is patiently waiting for one of us to drop something, so I move closer to the island and grab a grape from the bowl, tossing it to him.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell Cameron. I don’t want to be paid for sitting around. “Where’s Griffin? I haven’t seen him yet this morning.”
“He likely went for a morning jog before the days begins. Blue’s usually with him, but he seems content to keep an eye on you,” Cameron muses.
Blue must sense that I’m hurt, and he’s constantly trying to sniff my cast. “I never thought to ask, where does Blue sleep at night?”
“He bunks with Griffin.” He sets the knife down and reaches for the big spoon near the bowl, stirring the fruit. “Pancakes done?”
“Yes.”
“Perfect timing. Sit down and I’ll dish you up,” he says.
“Cameron, I am not an invalid,” I protest.
His hazel eyes snag mine. “Do you ever let that guard down?”
“Pardon?”
“You never fully relax, and when someone is around, you’re always busying yourself with something. You rarely just sit and enjoy someone’s company.”
“I’m not being paid to socialize.” Not to mention I’m not accustomed to anyone wanting to enjoy my company. The few times Knight and Oliver had; it’d felt strange.
“To some extent, you are,” Cameron counters.
I open one of the top cupboards and reach for a plate, carefully pulling one out at time and setting it on the counter. “You mean with Oliver.”
Cameron appears at my side as he takes the last plate from my hand and redirects me to the nearest stool. “Sit. No one’s going to think less of you for sitting while you eat.” He promptly sets a plate with a two pancakes in front of me, and then goes about retrieving the syrup and butter. And lastly, a glass of orange juice.
I sit there quietly and watch as he dishes himself up before sitting down beside me to eat. We both enjoy our meal in silence until Cameron eventually breaks it. “I know Griffin and I weren’t all that welcoming when you first arrived here, and I apologize for that. Nathan and the alters can be difficult to understand and get along with, and we half expected you to quit after the first few days, especially once Nathan appeared,” he admits.
My lip quirks as I use my fork to cut into the half-eaten pancake on my plate. “I’m stubborn.”
“Yes, we’ve noticed. My point is, you’ve made yourself a place here, and it’s apparent that this is where you belong.”
My heart constricts, the fork halfway to my mouth as I stare at him. He thinks that I belong here?
Cameron holds my gaze. “You can still be professional and make friends.”
Friends. Is that what we’re becoming? I’ve never had a real friend, and his statement has thrown me.
“You don’t always need to keep a professional distance. Relax once in a while,” Cameron suggests.
It’s hard to relax when I feel like I have so much to prove—to myself and those that have given me this life changing chance.
Before anything more can be said, Nathan saunters into the kitchen, his eyes immediately focusing on me. “How’s the wrist?”
“It’s fine,” I assure.
He nods and dishes himself up before coming around the island to take the seat on the other side of me. Cameron’s finished with his meal, and after he places his plate and utensils in the dishwasher, he excuses himself.
I take a bite of pancake and watch as Nathan digs in.
He pauses and looks at me expectantly. “You’re taking it easy today, right?”
“I’ll be careful.”
His eyes narrow. “There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow, Elena.”
I give him a firm look. “I am not going to spend the day doing nothing.”
“You’re that determined to make yourself useful?”
“I’m your employee.”
He nods, and a look crosses his face. “You are, which is why I expect you in my studio at ten.” He goes back to eating.
“You mean to pose?” I hadn’t considered that he might actually be serious about that.
“Yes.”
* * *
Not much makes me nervous, but as I stand in Nathan’s studio, watching him drag a stool across the room, nerves flutter in my belly. I don’t know why, but the idea of sitting there while Nathan studi
es my features unnerves me.
Wanting to distract myself, I glance around and spy the uncovered masquerade painting. There’s another painting on an easel, but it’s covered. I’m thankful for that, because I’m not certain I want to see it.
“Come sit,” Nathan suggests.
I take the seat he’s offered and watch as he sets an easel and new canvas six feet in front of me. He seems very focused as he walks across the studio and chooses his paints and brushes.
Soon, he’s standing in front of the canvas, the stroke of the paintbrush softly swooshing across the canvas. “If you become stiff, feel free to move around,” he murmurs, eyes fixated on the canvas.
“Okay.”
I’m content to watch him, and I study his features. He’s easy to look at, and I wonder how many women take notice of him when he’s out and about. A lot, I bet.
When his eyes flicker to me every so often, I avert my gaze. There’s not much else for me to do but to watch him, but I don’t want it to seem as if I’m ogling him.
“How’d you sleep last night?” he asks, breaking the silence as he continues to paint.
“It was kind of awkward, but I’ll get used to the cast.”
He falls silent, and once more I simply watch him. I can’t imagine all the struggles he’s had to overcome and is still dealing with.
His eyes suddenly flicker to mine, and a hint of amusement lurks in them. “I almost feel like I should stop what I’m doing.”
“Why?”
He actually smiles. “So you can look your fill. I can feel your eyes on me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, looking away.
“Nah, it’s fine. I get it. It’s not like there’s anything else for you to do.”
My gaze returns to his. “It’s just different seeing you so engrossed in your work,” I try to explain.
“As opposed to my usual broodiness?” he asks dryly.
My face scrunches. “Maybe I’d better stay quiet.”
He flashes me a half-smile. “You’re fine, Elena. I’m not as touchy as I may seem. Unless I’m waking to the fact that I’ve lost time once more to one of the alters,” he states wryly.