A Brush With Obsession

by Theresa Papa

  As I slip past him and find myself at the entryway, the fragrance of fresh flowers wafts gloriously through the room. I step toward the artistic arrangement on an intricately carved round table in the center. My hand instinctively rises to caress the petals and admire their beauty. After discarding my shoes in the foyer, I feel the smooth dark hardwood floors under my feet. They’re spread through the entire space across the large open living room.

  “Excuse me while I change. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll only be a minute.”

  Past the table and down two steps, I find myself gazing in wonder to take it all in. Across from where I stand, three oversized double-door entranceways lead to a wraparound balcony. I patter over, anxious to see the view. My fingers feel the coolness of the chunky pewter hardware that reads like jewelry on the doors they’re the same rich mahogany as Nico’s office doors. The darkness of the wood contrasts against the pale mushroom color of the walls. As I peer through the paned beveled glass, I wish it was daytime so I could enjoy the view. I sit gingerly on one of the two plush sofas that face each other in the center of the room. A sleek glass coffee table rests between them and two comfortable chairs round out the seating area. My toes sink into the enormous wool and silk rug that grounds the furniture arrangement. Everything in the room is decorated in various shades of blue, taupe, mushroom, and black.

  “Can you stay and have dinner with me? I can grill some steaks with baked potatoes and a salad. I would love you to join me; I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

  The mention of food makes my stomach grumble. Why have us both eat dinner even later by making him drive me home first? I turn around when Nico speaks and spot the enormous fireplace. Framed in the same mahogany, it is large enough for a person to walk into. My head tilts upward to take in a massive abstract painting, a perfect reflection of the soft colors in the room, above the mantel.

  I humbly smile, and say, “That sounds scrumptious. I would love to.”

  “Perfect!”

  He smiles with a wave for me to follow as he walks through the living room to switch on the lights. It’s then that I note the dining room and state-of-the-art kitchen beyond it. With my hand, I stroke the wood moldings that create columns on either side of the grand passageway. Up above, the light from the kitchen filters through four mahogany paned transom windows that artistically reveal the importance of the room. The wood transoms balance the room in their juxtaposition to the fireplace and the balcony doors.

  “I’ve always had an appreciation for interior design and even studied it at length. If I didn’t like law so much, I would have chosen it as my career,” I say loud enough for Nico to hear from the kitchen.

  Instinctively, I turn around, and just as I thought, an identical passageway leads into Nico’s study. Placing my hand on my heart, I sigh when I see an exquisite baby grand piano. Oh Lord, the man is gorgeous, and he plays the piano? There is nothing sexier; if he plays for me, there will be no release from my incessant crush on him. This celestial home gives me a blissful, relaxing feeling. I could live here very happily.

  “Would you like a glass of wine?” he calls out from the kitchen.

  He must assume I’m strange just standing here like a crazy person in awe. So I answer right away and walk toward the kitchen.

  “Yes, that would be nice.” I sip the glass of wine that he hands me. Then I ask, “Is there something I can help with?” He already has the steaks grilling on the built-in barbecue in the center of his huge cooking appliance. To call it just a stove would be a gross understatement.

  “Sure. Here, you can cut some vegetables for the salad.” He motions for me to sit at the majestic island with thick beefy turned wood pedestals covered in unique onyx countertops with clever backlighting to show the detail.

  “Wow, these onyx countertops are so stunning. They’re a natural work of art.”

  His face lights up when he realizes I perceive his attention to detail and comment on the beauty.

  “Thank you. They’re the one thing I had to have. The black onyx is quarried in Turkey with limited production. Because of its rich, dark tones, this onyx is crosscut to show a flowery appearance. Blocks are shipped from Turkey to Italy to be cut and processed using century-old techniques.” Nico sets the cutting board and a knife in front of me as his eyes sparkle with the pure joy on his face. I had no idea how content he was in his personal life. He washes some vegetables in the concave stainless farmhouse sink with the high arc industrial faucet. He hands me a tomato, cucumber, and some green onions after he pats them dry.

  “Here you go. All washed and ready for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  We work together diligently to create a delicious dinner. He pulls out my chair for me with a smile, showing off those luscious dimples just for me.

  “I hope the steak meets with your approval. I have a friend who’s a butcher who gets them for me,” he says.

  “It’s very tender and juicy. I’m enjoying every bite.”

  I have to get used to looking at him as we converse. His arresting azure blue eyes captivate me. I rely on a glance away to cut my steak when it’s too much. I contemplate that he can see my attraction to him.

  After dinner, we both clear the table and load the dishwasher together. We take our wine and sit side by side on the sofa after he lights the fireplace. I’m relieved I don’t have eye contact to worry about anymore, but the warmth from his body disarms me, so I lean in the opposite direction onto a luxurious throw and pillow. The softness of the fabric in my fist is a tactile dream. It helps divert my thoughts from straddling his lap to get his heat between my legs, then kiss him savagely as my hands rip open his shirt and palm his tight pecs.

  We both stare, mesmerized by the flames in the fireplace. Nico begins the conversation.

  “How do you like interning at my father’s law firm? Have you been there for long?”

  “Actually, I love it there. I have learned so much, and I’ve made a lot of friends. I can’t wait till the end of this year so I can get the bar exam over with.”

  “You can always come to me if you need any help studying. I passed it a few years ago, but you never forget.”

  I look over at him and chuckle.

  “Gossip travels around the office about you. But I never put any weight into gossip. Why did you leave the profession?”

  Nico gets up and paces the room while he answers my question. He sighs heavily and begins to tell me how horribly stressed and unhappy he was in his law practice. Then he reveals a few details about a certain murder trial of a family member that made him finally take the leap and quit.

  “The decision was not one I took lightly. As you know, the studies required and the expense to become a lawyer is extensive. But what worried me the most was if my father would to be able to forgive me for leaving the firm. His father built it, and we were supposed to carry on the tradition. At first, he was so dead set against it that he threatened to take away my inheritance. His threat never fazed me because I already had my own wealth from investing my salary over the couple of years that I took on some really high-profile cases. Recently, he’s witnessed how happy I am and the success I’ve been fortunate enough to obtain. But the fact that my brother is still there to help him made it easier for me to leave my obligation behind.”

  Finished with his revelation, he once again takes a seat next to me on the sofa. And I ask him another question. “So you don’t have any regrets now and can live happily ever after?”

  “It was the best move I’ve ever made. I opened the salon, and that was something I’d always dreamed of. I get to flex all my artistic muscles here by executing the décor along with creative ways to make women more alluring. In turn, that makes them feel better about themselves. And yes, for now that’s my happily ever after.”

  I smile at his explanation of happily ever after and swallow hard when he looks into my eyes with a quick inkling of attraction. Wrapped up in my insecur
ities, I look away.

  Chapter 13

  Nico Pope

  The evening with Samantha progresses very nicely. I can tell she has a passion for interior design, as do I. She has no hesitation in her appraisal of the attention to detail that I strive very hard to convey in my home. Her design knowledge shows through in how she communicates what she likes. It pleases me to know we have so much in common even with the slight difference in our ages.

  We work together seamlessly to put the meal on the table and eat together very politely. There are times when I can tell I make her nervous, especially when we make eye contact. Her hands shake slightly when she cuts her steak; they’re small with petite fingers and pink nail polish.

  “So what made you want to go into law versus interior design?” I ask.

  “When I serve as a children’s lawyer in abuse or neglect cases, it will give me the chance to be the voice of the innocent. I love children and want to help them.” Her eyes look upward, and her hands grasp the cashmere throw on the sofa.

  “Well, to witness how enthusiastic you are just now, I would say you chose wisely.”

  “I’m kind of excited about a program I will participate in this year called the Child and Family Law Clinic. I’ll have the opportunity to acquire the skills needed to represent children in cases that involve pediatric law. An advocate in court, with the Department of Children and Family Services and other public and private agencies, I’ll often work in tandem with the clinic’s social worker or social work students.”

  “I can tell you’ll make a difference in the world, Samantha. I admire your drive.”

  “I hope the firm will offer me a full-time position after my exam. That would be a dream come true,” she announces.

  This revelation slaps me in the face with the fact that maybe she is here with me to ensure her chances of a permanent position at Pope, Manning, and Price. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman was friendly just to further her opportunities. I’ll take it much slower than I originally planned so I can test her further. She seems so genuine and lovely; I can’t imagine she’s like the others I’ve encountered in the past.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I excuse myself and leave the room to answer the call from Jaxson.

  “Hey bro, what did you find out from Giselle tonight?”

  “Nothing substantial, Jax, except I got the same name as the one Anna gave of the previous manager who worked at the club before she took over. Giselle also said that the manager indicated that Lizzie would be leaving the club with him, so I have my guy looking into his background. I’ll let you know when I hear anything. I want to know your information on that club. Maybe we need to pay an anonymous visit and get some answers. Listen, I have company, so can we catch up tomorrow at breakfast?”

  “No problem, bro! Who’s the braciole?” Jaxson asks with a snicker. He refers to the slang in Italian that insinuates a girlfriend or a mistress just to be funny.

  “Never mind, bro! I will see you in the morning.”

  Before he could ask more questions, I end the call. When I walk back in, Samantha is standing by the windows near the piano. She removed her blouse while we were cooking so she wouldn’t get a stain on it. Seeing her standing in just her tank top with the moonlight reflecting off her silky hair and her bare shoulders, I silently lose my mind. I hesitate just for a moment to enjoy her beauty and to gain control of myself enough to return to her company. She must feel my presence because without turning around, she speaks softly to ask me to play for her. I walk over, sit at the piano, and offer her a seat on the bench next to me.

  “Any preference on what you want to hear?”

  Her eyes are half-mast as she gives me a closed mouth smile and shakes her head slowly. She looks down at the keys and carefully avoids my gaze. I want nothing more than to lift her chin with my finger and crush my lips against her sweet luscious pink mouth. Instead, I play. I decide to show her my passion through my music for now. A medley of seductive love songs flies from my fingers. Samantha sits up, and she begins to sing. To my surprise, she sounds like an angel. As her exquisite voice washes over me, a transformation takes place. The muscles in my neck and shoulders relax. All of my doubts about her using me to further her law career disappear. Someone with such a captivating innocence and ethereal voice could never be so calculating. She enchanted me before, but now she can bring me to my knees.

  As I finish the last song, I turn to her and lift her chin so she meets my gaze. Her eyelids are slightly closed, and her expression still in euphoria. Slowly, I touch my mouth to hers, rubbing my lips back and forth against her sweet lips. I keep the kiss chaste but intimate enough. Then I touch my forehead against hers, feeling the softness of her skin and the closeness I desire.

  “You have somehow bewitched me,” I whisper.

  This electric moment with Samantha is a first for me. Her sweet little breaths are warm against my lips. A myriad of emotions bombard my mind. No woman has ever made me feel this way. I want more. I want her to be mine.

  To my surprise and chagrin, her eyebrows rise up as she pulls away. Sam bolts off the bench with a nervous giggle and a crimson blush upon her cheeks. She almost trips on the slippery wood floor in her haste to get away from me. Then she turns to me with a big, embarrassed smile.

  “Are you calling me a witch? Ha, that’s funny! What am I saying?” She rubs her forehead with her hand and shakes her head. “The wine must be getting to me.”

  I rise from the bench, jolted from my reverie. I feel empty as her obvious retreat means she is uncomfortable. And she definitely didn’t feel the same things that I am. What an odd response.

  “Of course, I didn’t mean…” I start to say, when she interrupts.

  “I’m sorry, I know what you meant. Things were just moving a little too fast for me. Right now, I’m a little affected by the wine, obviously enough to feel comfortable singing for you.” She looks up with a roll of her eyes as if ashamed of herself. “But not ready to take things… um, any further romantically. When that happens, I sometimes stupidly joke around to avoid… things. It’s sort of a knee-jerk reaction.” Sam shrugs, humiliated, and turns her back to me.

  I walk over to her, turn her around to face me, and take both her hands in mine. I bring them up and place a kiss on her soft delicate palm, lingering for just a moment. Guilt fills my thoughts when her eyes dart to mine before they quickly look away. The thought crosses my mind that maybe she’s inexperienced. She’s twenty-four years old, a few years younger than me, but usually women have had a boyfriend by that age. Samantha is stunning; she must have had many men pursue her in the past. I rapidly try to defuse the awkwardness of the encounter.

  “I want you to know that I never meant to make you the slightest bit uncomfortable. I get it; we can take it slow. From now on, I take my cues from you. Okay?”

  She nods her head in affirmation and lets go of my hands. The gesture indicates she is finished with the discussion.

  With her eyes glued to the floor, she asks, “Could I have a ride home now?”

  Chapter 14

  Samantha Marconi

  To break the silence during the drive back to my place, I start the conversation. After all, I still work for him and will see him all the time, so I don’t want things to be awkward between us.

  “Your car is impressive! Did you just get it recently?”

  Thankfully, he looks over at me with a smile as if my bumbling idiocy never fazed him at all.

  “Yes. Just yesterday when you came in for your interview, I had my old college friend Ken pick me up after you and I finished. He owns the dealership, and we haven’t seen each other for a while so we picked up my car at his business. That was the guy with me last night at the bar.”

  So that explains the friend getting out of the car that night to greet Nico, but I still have to worry about Giselle.

  Once we arrive at my building, I point at the side door I usually enter. He turns off the
car, and we both admire Lake Michigan through the wire fence in front of us. The moon is bright as it reflects off the water droplets of the tide splashing against the rocks.

  “How do you like living here, one block away from the university main campus?” he asks.

  “My mom found my little garden-level condo when it was in foreclosure, and we snapped it up. It’s a perfect location for a student who uses the library regularly. I only walk along the lake for a block, and the glass atrium of the university library is right there on the lakeshore. My condo was originally a one bedroom with an office, but we had it reconfigured to a three bedroom because I wanted to be roommates with my two best friends. I met them both in my first year, so Mom and Dad made that possible. We all lived here happily together for our remaining undergrad years, and then after graduation, our lives all went into different directions. I live here alone now, and the office is once again just that.”

  He presses his lips together in a closed mouth grin.

  “Jen lives directly above me. After we met my senior year, she and I became the closest of friends. She’s now a part of my family, like an adopted daughter to my parents and a sister to me. We have so much fun when we sit on the beach by the lake. We’re always in each other’s condos hanging out.”

  I take a deep breath of courage and turn to face him. He’s slightly turned in his seat toward me with his thumb and forefinger stroking his emerging stubble on his chiseled chin. His smile is still there for me in spite of my silliness. Hopefully, this means he understands my strange behavior and won’t hold it against me.

  “Thank you so much for everything tonight. Dinner was delicious, and the conversation was delightful. Most of all, I enjoyed you playing for me. I was transported into another world.” I shrug and close my eyes to show my pleasure.