It was the one I’d painted after talking with Lana. It was beautiful. Truly one of my favourites I’d ever done. Probably because of the truth that was painted into it that no one, unless I told them, would know was right there. Screaming at them.
There was a crowd around it, all dressed in masks and gowns and suits, and so I slipped behind them and strained my ears.
“—don’t you think?”
“Very. I also think the contrast, the florals and the boldness of the palette are genius.”
My face pulled for no one but me.I’m a genius.
The woman closest to me nodded. “Oh, completely.”
A lady in red spoke. “It’s something so soft and so chaotic and that balance? Pure perfection.”
“I agree.”
I’d know that voice in even the loudest of rooms.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as those words were whispered into my ear. My spine stiffened, and I kept my head forward. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t think I could. Not with the way my heart was beating a thousand beats a second. So I planted my feet.
“You’re here.” I sighed, rather breathlessly.
I felt Marcus move closer, his chest grazing my back. “Of course I’m here. I was never going to miss this.”
"How did you find me?" I asked, pushing back my shoulders and swallowing away every thought I had of turning around.
He let a laugh slip through his nose, and, like he dipped his head, I felt his warm breath on my neck as he whisepred. "I'd recognise those eyes anywhere, angel."
God, my heart was about to explode if he kept talking to me like that.
“I think this one is my favourite.”
My eyes drifted up to the painting, and knowing that he was looking at it too made the pressure building in my chest lessen. And even though every voice in my head was screaming at me to ignore him, to give him a taste of his own medicine, I just couldn’t.
“What do you like about it?”
“Everything.” He said quickly, right as our dangling hands brushed past one another. “But it’s yours. Of course I’m going to love everything about it.”
Our fingers danced. “That’s being biased.”
“That’s being honest.” He moved closer, his hand running up my arm. I can't tell you how long we stayed like that before he whispered, “I’ve missed you.”
My eyes squeezed shut. He knoew I missed him too; if the way I was subtly leaning into him said anything, it was that.
I let my lungs inflate. “It’s been two weeks. Calm down.”
He huffed a laugh, and I knew his eyes had rolled. I just knew. “You’re extremely hard not to miss, did you know that?”
My shoulders squared in a way that I hoped would convince him that I wasn’t seconds away from crumbling. “Course. I’m a hoot.”
Of course, even the strongest armour in the world wouldn't stand a chance against Marcus, especially not when his fingertips grazed the back of my arm like they were doing now. Each brush was slow, and cunning in a way that I knew he knew I loved.
Even through the thin layer of my sleeve, my skin was covered in goosebumps, each delicate, deadly brush sending shivers to the base of my neck. Soon enough, his hand landed in mine, and before I could stop him, I let him turn me around.
Which was a huge, cataclysmic, earth-shattering mistake.
Because standing in front of me was Marcus Romano, wearing the most perfect black tux, with a matching black masquerade mask. All I could see were those deep brown eyes I fell alittle bit more in love with every time I looked into them, and they were looking down at me like I was one of these paintings.
Those nearly onyx eyes trailed over me, soaking up every inch of my dress, stopping once he found my eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, like it was the only thing he wanted to do.
