Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“What did you want to do with your degree?”
“I always dreamed about teaching art. Working in some school somewhere teaching kids how to appreciate art and create it.”
“So do you paint like this?” I motioned around the room.
She would never have a genuine job like that, but I didn’t want to dwell on the negatives of marrying me. I wanted her to open up so she could start seeing the benefits.
“Like…”
“Impressionism,” I clarified.
“No. I may have the love of art, but sadly Rose has all the talent. What is it they say? Those who can’t do, teach.” Her smile turned a little sad as she sat back in her chair and admired the art surrounding us.
“I don’t believe that for a moment. You got into a prestigious program at NYU. There has to be some talent. Maybe you are too much of a critic when it comes to your own work.”
“Maybe.” She looked down at her hands, a touch of pink on her cheeks.
I was about to say more when Henry placed a hand on my shoulder and whispered, “Sir, there has been an incident at the office regarding your father’s acquaintances. It requires your immediate attention.”
“Thank you, Henry.” I turned back to Amelia, who was studying the painting of the naked woman in the park again. “I want to see your work.”
“I have nothing worth showing, and I don’t keep my failures,” she said without looking up at me.
I looked back at Henry and motioned for him to bring me my briefcase. I pulled out a notebook and my Montblanc fountain pen.
“Take these and draw something for me.” I handed her the pen and paper. “An issue that I need to handle has come up. I will be only a moment.”
She looked back and nodded, taking the pen and paper.
“Watch her,” I said to my personal security that was always around the perimeter.
The chances I was being followed by those thugs were slim, but there was no telling what they would do to get at me, and I wouldn’t put Amelia in danger.
CHAPTER 20
AMELIA
Ididn’t understand what was happening.
I stared after his retreating back as he stepped out to handle some business.
Being with a powerful man, interruptions like that were bound to happen.
That didn’t bother me. I knew to expect it.
What had my brain reeling and butterflies fluttering in my stomach was how Luc had gone from treating me like a woman he had paid for to a woman he was trying to court. He was acting as if he wanted to woo me, to seduce me, as if I had a say in any of this.
Did he maybe feel something for me, too?
Could he be just as confused by our situation and our chemistry as I was? I pushed that thought from my head. It was ridiculous, and hope would only make it hurt worse when he returned to his brutish, womanizing ways. There was no way I could let my guard down around this man. He had far too much power over my body.
I refused to let him have my soul, too.
When I considered how Rose had spoken about the gardener this morning in the studio, about being seen and heard, I now realized it hadn’t even occurred to me to want something like that. Everything about Luc told me that was never going to happen. Then he had listened to me babble about Manet. He had asked thoughtful questions that showed me that not only was he paying attention, he at least pretended he was interested.
He had planned a dream date, and had been present, physically and mentally.
Without even realizing it, I had let my guard down and been comfortable with him. It didn’t hurt that the Met was probably one of my favorite places in the city. It was even the charity for which my family had chosen to act as patron.
My mother, of course, did it to be seen as charitable and cultured, but I didn’t care. I loved it here, how there was always a small crowd speaking in hushed tones, just staring at the art in wonder. It was somewhere where it did not matter where you came from, what you looked like. We were all here for the same reason: to feel something magical, to get lost in a piece of art that could transcend even the most insurmountable differences.
Lunch was amazing. He had ordered my favorite dish from my favorite restaurant. I hadn’t even been aware they catered. The thought and effort he had put into this… I had never heard of a man doing something like this, not outside of a romance novel. Even then, it was for the love of his life, not his arranged-marriage bride.
I had hoped this impromptu outing would help clear my mind about what I was feeling. That he would prove himself to be ignorant, selfish, and a narcissist who should never be tolerated for longer than absolutely necessary. Or better yet, he would be stupid, and therefore easily managed.