The Arrogant Artist : A Billionaire Boss Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 2), стр. 63
“Rosie seems to like them.” He frowns a little but doesn’t say anything, then takes an uneasy sip of his water. “Why are you here?” My question is filled with accusation.
Daniel places the glass on the coffee table. “I have an offer for you.”
Well, that’s not what I thought he was going to say.
“No amount of money can make me go back there, Daniel,” I tell him.
“That’s not what I’m here about,” he tells me. “Before everything happened, Louis asked if I’d contact the New York gallery to see if they would be interested in sharing the space they have for him with another artist.” Okay, not sure what that has to do with me, so we just stare at each other. “The gallery said yes.”
“That’s all good, but this has nothing to do with me. I don’t work for Louis anymore.”
“I know, but the artist they want is you.”
My heart stops in my chest.
What the hell did he say?
Me?
How? Why?
Am I actually dreaming?
Because this seems like a dream. Something like this wouldn’t happen in real life, would it?
“Louis sent photos of the paintings you did while in Ibiza. He asked if he could share the showing with you.” That was weeks ago. Why would he do this for me? I don’t understand. “Louis thinks you’re talented. No, extremely talented.”
I shake my head. No. I don’t want to hear this.
“I’m no artist, Daniel.”
“I want to represent you.”
My heart is beating loudly in my chest.
What the hell is going on? Am I being punked?
“You’re only saying this because of what happened. Is this some sort of hush money?” I stand up abruptly and begin to pace the living room. “You’re both trying to absolve yourselves.”
My chest feels tight. My head hurts. I don’t feel great. Goddammit! I stumble, feeling dizzy.
Daniel rushes over and holds me steady, but I pull away from him feeling so vulnerable.
“Emily, you have no idea how sorry I am about what happened to you.” I can’t look at him, but the sincerity in his voice is killing me. “Louis blames himself. He’s…” I hear him sigh heavily. “He’s not doing so well.”
I don’t react, I can’t. Knowing Louis is hurting, there’s a tiny part of me that feels bad, but I stuff it away deep down inside of me.
“He wants to help.”
“That’s why he’s offering this?” My eyes well with tears, and I try to blink them away, but one rolls down my cheek.
“God, Emily, no. He knows you’re talented. He’s had this planned for ages. He was going to tell you after you got back from Paris.” I wrap my arms around myself, a flutter of hope beginning to take flight inside of me. “I think you’re talented, too.” I look up at Daniel. “I’d love to see what you’ve been working on.”
Really?
“You don’t have to say yes to New York but think about it. We can make sure that you and Louis are never near each other if that’s what you want. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. But please, please, just think about it?”
This is all sounding way too good to be true. I close my eyes and try to calm myself. I take a couple of steps and make my way toward my makeshift studio. It takes me until I’m halfway across the room before Daniel follows me. I push open the door to my inner sanctum exposing myself to him.
He passes me giving me a reassuring smile, then he stops. He stands there taking in every inner thought I have had these past two weeks. He steps forward and touches the work, the bright red paint catching his attention, the long strokes across the canvas. I guess this is where Louis and I differ in our melancholy. His art was dark, and you could tell he wasn’t in the right headspace compared to his normal colorful artwork. But mine, it’s the opposite containing bright vibrant colors swirling across the canvas, but it’s the images that show what’s really going on, the pushing and pulling of hands, the snarl of an ugly face, the tears falling from a fragile girl huddled in a corner.
“Emily, these are…” Daniel stands in awe, his head moving from side to side taking it all in. He pulls out his cell. “May I?” he asks.
I nod my head, and he starts taking pictures, documenting every single canvas.
“These are spectacular.” His fingers run over one canvas, the only one that I allowed myself to paint that wasn’t dark or disturbed. It’s an image of a couple embracing, making love with every twist and turn of the couple in their lovemaking on show. He stares at this one the longest, and I wonder what he’s thinking.
“He’d love this.” Daniel taps the image.
The words stumble out of my mouth before my brain has time to compute what they are saying, “Take it.”
Daniel turns and looks at me, surprised. “You’re giving me this?” he asks for clarity. I move forward and pick it up, handing the artwork to him.
“Give it to him. If it helps him move on.” I don’t want Louis to fall back into the hole that he has only just climbed out. If this painting can help him move on, start afresh, then he needs it more than I do.
“He’ll love it,” Daniel tells me taking the canvas from my hands.
I shrug.
“You’ll think about my request?”
“I don’t know.”
“The event is in a month’s time.” My chest tightens, that’s not long. I don’t know if I can produce enough before then. “You know where I live, I’m not far. If you want to do this, I can help you. Anything you need, I can help.”
I give him a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”
This makes Daniel smile, popping that dimple of his. He leans in and kisses my cheek.