The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

  There was no harm in trying, right?

  Are you nuts?

  He practically threw me out this afternoon. I’d done nothing to hurt him at high-school—or at least I thought I hadn’t—yet he acted as if I’d committed a mortal sin.

  Why would I have a chance of employment after he’d so eloquently proved he hadn’t forgotten our past? That he still held a grudge against something. That I was still...unwanted.

  You need money.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek. That was true. But I couldn’t see him giving me any.

  Even if he flat-out refuses to hire you again, he might know of someone who will.

  I stopped chewing, hating that my brain made logical sense.

  At this point, I was willing to hold a placard on a street corner for a job. I’d even wash cocky businessmen’s cars in a bikini if it meant the stress of a dwindling bank account went away.

  See? You’re prepared to get mostly naked. Better with the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

  I shook my head, doing my best to stop thinking.

  Gil had hurt me today.

  He’d hurt me lots of days.

  If I had any friends left, they’d all tell me to stay the hell away from him.

  But...once upon a time, there had been an us.

  Oh, my God, O. There is no us!

  I slugged back another mouthful of wine.

  I know that.

  I knew I was setting myself up for more pain than I could handle by going back. But...I’d always been drawn to people who were less fortunate than me. Always wanted to share my loneliness with other lonely souls because together, we didn’t have to be lonely.

  Healing people’s wounds—physical or emotional—was something that gave me purpose. It reminded me that I might not have someone to do the same for me but it didn’t mean I couldn’t be there for someone else.

  Gil was injured.

  He might be lonely.

  Gulping back the last of my wine, I stood.

  I’d seen him seven hours ago.

  It was late.

  I should stay home.

  I should curl up in front of the TV and enjoy it while I could still afford it.

  I shouldn’t throw on my only jacket.

  I definitely shouldn’t summon an Uber and meet it at the curb.

  It was as if I couldn’t stop myself.

  My heart hijacked my self-control, and somehow, I went from standing in my apartment to loitering outside warehouse number twenty-five.

  You truly are a sucker for punishment.

  I scowled.

  Sucker or not, no one could say I hadn’t fought for a job. That I hadn’t been brave in the face of adversity.

  The Uber that I couldn’t afford drove off, leaving me with my terrible decisions in the dark. I looked left and right, prickles of uneasy forming.

  The industrial area was the exact place all parents warned their kids to avoid.

  My parents wouldn’t care if they knew where I was. They were thousands of miles away.

  God, what am I doing?

  He didn’t want me here.

  To be honest, I didn’t really want to be here.

  But...I missed him.

  He was hurt.

  Just go. Before it’s too late.

  Hugging myself against the crisp evening, I looked down the long row of warehouses to the road in the distance. If I left, I would always wonder. If I left, I would never know why.

  Why did he leave me?

  Why is he wounded?

  With my heart in my throat, I marched forward and knocked on the smaller entrance.

  Low voices seeped from inside.

  I didn’t know if Gil lived onsite or if I was about to get in serious trouble with a stranger, but I knocked again, and this time, I tried the door handle.

  If it was locked, I’d go home.

  If it was unlocked...well...fortune favours the bold.

  The handle moved, unlatching the door and cracking it open in invitation.

  The voices sounded louder. Two males. One rational and doing their best to calm down the less rational one.

  “You’re not hearing me, Miller. I’m not interested.”

  “It’s easy coin. I don’t get why you wouldn’t.”

  My ears easily picked out Gil’s gruff growl. “Because I don’t have the time to find a suitable model, and I’m done with interviews.”

  “Done with asking sexy girls to strip for you?” The other guy chuckled. “What a pain in the ass.”

  Gil didn’t laugh; his tone stayed dark and impatient. “Seen one, seen ’em all.”

  “If you think that, then you haven’t seen the right one.”

  A clatter of something hitting metal bounced around the cavernous warehouse. A strong whiff of turpentine followed.

  “All I’m saying is, this deal with Paradise Advertising is mega. You do it, and you’ll land a hundred more gigs. They’re an advertising king and have contracts with so many world-known brands. You’d be set for life, Clark. You follow me?”

  Silence reigned as I snuck closer, tiptoeing in my ballet flats. At least I wasn’t in high heels, clicking and announcing my uninvited arrival.

  Gil sighed loudly. “You know I hate commercial work.”

  “Who cares when it pays?”

  Something else smashed. “Look, I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t need the money because I do. I always do. I’ll do any number of shitty gigs if it pays decent.” His hard chuckle sounded strained. “But the deadline is in two days. I don’t have a canvas, let alone inspiration. I can’t exactly paint myself.” His voice dropped an octave. “Besides, there’s something I need to do. I—”

  “Whatever it is can wait. Do the commission. Get a damn canvas. It’s easy. Just pick a pretty girl from the street and make her sign whatever you need her to sign and get to work. I’ve seen you create bigger pieces in shorter timeframes. Two days is plenty.”

  A drawer slammed. “Forget it. I’ll figure something else out.” The thump of boots gave me precisely two seconds warning before Gil stormed from the back office and raked his hands through messy, dark hair.

  He looked even more exhausted than this afternoon; his features tense and shadows contouring him with sadness.

  For a moment, he didn’t see me. He believed he was alone as he rubbed his face and dug fingers into his eyes as if begging for rest.

  Gil had always been handsome, but now?

  God, he might’ve been a painting himself. A masterpiece of masculinity with his sweeping eyebrows, harsh jawline, and unreadable, unforgiving green eyes.

  I ached to wrap him in a hug and offer whatever he needed.

  He froze, his head shot up, his gaze whipping around the space, sensing that he wasn’t as alone as he thought. “Olin...” Just like before, the first awareness of me echoed with long-ago desire. His forehead remained smooth. His posture gentle.

  But then his boots clunked against the paint-splattered concrete, his mouth twisting into denial. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Bad idea coming back.

  Very, very bad.

  I had no way of explaining my breaking and entering behaviour. No way to disguise the longing that I was sure glowed upon my face. I said the only thing I could. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in uninvited.”

  “What the hell did you mean to do then? Do a bit of cleaning? Maybe cook some goddamn pancakes while you were at it?”

  I winced.

  Pancakes.

  He remembers.

  “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

  He raked a vicious hand through his hair, yanking at the strands as if he could drive me from his mind. “Did you not get the message this afternoon?” He stalked toward me, heavy boots and predator swiftness. “You can’t fucking be here.” His hand raised as if to grab me and shove me from his warehouse.

  “Gil, what the—” Whoever the other male was careened from the office, appearing beh
ind Gil.

  Dirty blond hair, two matching dimples, and vibrant blue eyes. Recognition once again whacked me around the back of the head.

  Oh, no.

  I’d come here hoping for a job. For answers. For Gil to be honest about us.

  Unfortunately, I’d found not one, but two familiar boys that I’d spent my high-school years entangled with.

  It took Justin Miller longer to recognise me than it’d taken Gil.

  Longer to recall the kisses we’d shared. The touches we’d experimented. The breakup I’d initiated.

  Gil had been the love of my life.

  Justin had been my rebound.

  And a friend.

  Definitely a good friend.

  Gil stepped aside, a grimace painting him in blacks and greys. His gaze never left mine. A piercing connection of awareness.

  He knew I knew Justin.

  He knew I’d dated Justin.

  He knew Justin didn’t recognise me and was just waiting for the moment he did.

  Justin’s eyes widened as he looked me up and down. He licked his lips, shaking his head as if seeing the past. “O? Is...is that really you?”

  Gil crossed his arms, his face switching from carefully guarded to unreadable. Doing my best to ignore his overwhelming presence and the way my heart quickened, I nodded at Justin. “Hello.”

  “Oh, my God!” Justin jogged across the huge warehouse and scooped me into a hug. “I can’t believe this!” His arms crushed me tight. I dangled like an unwilling hostage in his embrace.

  Why couldn’t Gil have reacted this way?

  I would’ve welcomed it.

  Cried for it.

  Kissed him until I’d died of joy.

  Instead, Justin’s body enveloped my own. He was warm and unwanted. I squirmed a little to be free.

  Patting his back, I pulled away with a smile that I hoped was kind but feared it was more of a wince. “Justin. Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Fancy seeing me?” His eyebrows shot into his hair. He was just as confident as he had been at school. The years had decorated him with a sturdier physique and shrewder gaze, but boyhood charm still lingered, complete with easy flirting. “Fancy seeing you.” He glanced at Gil behind him before looking me up and down again with a grin. “What are you doing here?” His grin fell. “Wait, do you...do you still hang out with Clark?”

  Gil stalked forward. Slow and meticulous with the ever-watchful, always condemning gleam in his green eyes. “No. She came here by accident. Haven’t seen her in years.”

  “Oh.” Justin wiped his mouth. “So...you’re here at nine p.m. on a school night because...?”

  I looked at Gil, waiting for him to reply.

  He didn’t.

  He stood as unmovable as stone, his eyes a storm of complexity.

  “I came for the interview today. When Gil recognised me, there was no interview.” I shrugged, not looking at my old boyfriend but at my current heartbreak. “But I came back.”

  Gil’s throat worked. Something flickered over his face that I wanted to chase and capture. Whatever it was, it tugged at me with truth.

  He crossed his arms, flinching a little thanks to his sore elbow. “You came back against my strict instructions to stay away.”

  “I can’t take no for an answer.” I let pitiful pleading enter my voice. “I really need a job, Gil. Like really, really. I’m happy to do whatever you need, or, if you know of someone who’s hiring, then I’d be very grateful for their details.”

  I swallowed, shivering a little as Gil continued to stare right into me. I added, “I also came to check on you. I...I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I hadn’t.”

  He reared back. “I’m not your concern.”

  I swallowed yet more unresolved pain. “You were once.”

  His jaw ticked with two opposing forces. Part of him recalled our togetherness, remembered our kindness toward one another. The other rebelled against it, slandering such things with a dirty curse. “Fuck, you’re still hung up on things that meant nothing.”

  I couldn’t stop my jerk. “You can be mad at me for entering uninvited, but you can’t be mean for no reason.”

  “Reason?” He scoffed. “You gave me plenty of reasons by ignoring my explicit commands not to return.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have left without a single goodbye—”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have found me!”

  “I didn’t find you. I answered your damn advertisement!”

  “We’re not bloody children anymore, Olin! What happened in the past is obsolete.”

  “To you maybe!” My skin flushed. I wasn’t good at confrontation. I’d never been one to pick fights. I was more of a peacemaker. A pacifier. It was why I’d never had a frank conversation with my parents that I’d missed them when I was young. That I’d needed them even though I was capable of making my own stupid packed lunches.

  “Whoa, quit the shouting, okay?” Justin placed himself between us, his forehead creased with concern. Facing me, he asked softly, “Check on him? Why?”

  I laughed under my breath, frustrated beyond belief. “Why? Did you not see his injuries?”

  The bruise on his jaw.

  The cut on his lip.

  Gil stiffened as if I’d given away all his secrets. Shoving hands into his hoodie pocket, he stormed toward a trestle table chock-full of glass jars containing brushes and rags. “She’s seeing things. I actually fear for her mental stability. Get rid of her, will you, Miller?”

  My heart physically hiccupped as if he’d reached into my chest and squeezed.

  It didn’t matter that his back rippled with stress. It didn’t matter that his body shook or his eyes gleamed with things he refused to say.

  He was being undeniably nasty.

  And I deserved better.

  You should go.

  My chin swooped up.

  In a minute.

  Brushing past Justin, I went to Gil as he grabbed a bottle of paint and shook it violently. His messy hair tangled around his forehead and ears. His harsh eyebrows tugged down over harsher eyes as if he could eradicate me from his life as he’d done in the past.

  “I know I did something to make you hate me when we were kids, but...we’re adults now.” I ducked in front of him, wedging myself against the table.

  His height and bulk pressed against me heavily, even though we didn’t touch. He shuddered. His hand rose as if to tuck hair behind my ear before falling into a fist by his thigh. “Is that what you think?” His voice roughened with bitterness. “That you did something to make me leave you?”

  My knees turned to water. “Wasn’t it? I mean...it had to have been my fault. Why else did you—”

  “Enough.” His tone strangled. He slammed the bottle of paint onto the table behind me. He stalked away as if he was two seconds from either punching me or punching himself.

  I spoke to his retreating back. “I didn’t come to discuss the past, Gil.”

  Liar.

  “You’re looking for a model, and I’m looking for a job. I fit most of the attributes of your ad. How about we both agree to move on and focus on that?”

  He spun to face me. His head cocked, causing more rogue hair to cascade over his forehead. A few dark locks tangled with black eyelashes, giving me the incredible urge to brush them away. “I don’t need a model anymore.”

  “You do. I overheard you guys talking.”

  “You eavesdropped as well as broke in?”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that you need to start working on a project very soon.”

  He looked at the paint-speckled concrete as if this conversation had drained him of all reserves. “I don’t want the job. Don’t need it. So I don’t need you.”

  “You literally just said you needed the money.”

  “You. Out.” His hand rose. “Immediately.”

  “Okay, I think tempers have gotten a little hot over here.” Justin appeared between us, breaking whatever tense bubble that’d
formed. “Let me get this straight. Olin offered to be a model, and you turned her down?” He shook his head. “Gilbert, man, what the fuck?”

  Gil bared his teeth. “I told you. I’m not doing the commission.”

  “What does she mean you were injured, by the way?” Justin’s tone lowered with worry. “Is that why you’re favouring your left arm?”

  “I paint with my right. My left doesn’t matter.”

  Justin huffed. “You’re a prick.”

  Gil looked at the ceiling, shielding himself with rage. “Something I finally agree with. Now, can we wrap this up? I have something I need to do.”

  I cleared my throat, ready to argue, but Justin fought my battle for me. He waved a hand in my direction. “Proportionally, she’d be a very good asset. A perfect canvas.”

  “Not gonna happen.” Gil brushed past both of us, his boots heavy.

  “Just take a look at her. Like I said, the money from Paradise Advertising is totally worthwhile.” Justin trotted after his friend. “It’s not gonna kill you to interview her, is it?”

  “It might,” Gil grumbled.

  I sucked in a breath, hating how my stomach fluttered with idiotic butterflies. I shuffled forward, letting my jacket fall off my shoulders, revealing my Lycra leggings and T-shirt.

  Gil slammed to a halt, his gaze locking onto me.

  Sexual tension sprang from nowhere, hissing in the chilly air.

  I shivered as his gaze traced my figure almost unwillingly, as if his temper was protection. Protection from everything I made him feel.

  “Just interview me, Gil,” I whispered, cursing the slight feather in my tone. The softness that shouldn’t be there.

  He stiffened as he tore his eyes from my body. His left arm hung stiff and sore—totally obvious to me that he still suffered pain but not obvious to Justin who grabbed it and shook it as if he could shake common sense into a guy who’d never been good with the word.

  If Gil had had common sense when he was a teenager, he would’ve known that I loved him. He would’ve known that I couldn’t just switch it off like he had. That he’d destroyed me when he took that love away.

  The urge to shrug back into my jacket made my hands curl around the cuffs.

  “Look at her.” Justin pointed at me. “Perfect proportion between shoulders and hips. Not too busty. Long legs. I betcha she’s flexible. And the best part...” He narrowed his eyes at Gil. “She’s available, right now. She’s here, ready to work. So...get painting.”