“We shall see,” he stated, then finally turned back around. “Come along. You are already running late.”
Ophelia said nothing more as he led her down a short hall that came to a narrow staircase. She watched his back as she walked behind him, drawn to the way his broad shoulders the lines of his no-doubt muscular back were accentuated by the fine fabric of his black jacket. He walked with the grace of an aristocrat, but there was something a little to his gait. It was purposeful, almost predatory; as if he was ready to raise fisticuffs at any moment.
So this is the infamous mastermind of the Devil’s Masquerade,she mused silently, looking for any tell of who he might be. She’d pictured him differently; a man perhaps so ugly or rotund that he needed the help of a mask or illustrious reputation to help him attract paramours. This man was neither, and though shehad no proof, she was sure his face matched the finery that was his physique.
“We move from place to place to keep a step ahead of those that wish to shut us down,” the man stated, drawing her out of her musings as he led her down the hall. “So your work will need to be easy to transport. That being said, I want large portraits. No palm-sized scapes or something an envious member could tuck under their jacket.
“We move locations often, so you will need to be willing to travel. Sometimes it is in London itself. Other times, it is beyond the city limits. You will be given notice when that happens, but tonight officially marks the first night here. You will conduct your test portrait this evening and if you pass, you will have four nights to complete a four-portrait series.”
Four?!
“I was told you only wanted one,” Ophelia replied, her panic rising. The time frame was incredibly small. Not just for the portraits she would be responsible for if hired, but for the test portrait. Which in itself was something she’d never been asked to do before. Usually she went to the home that hired her, was given a lecture’s worth of instructions, and was left to do create her art at her leisure.
“Then you were told wrong,” he countered. “Four portraits. One thousand pounds each.”
Ophelia stopped walking; shocked.Four thousand pounds?Her mind raced with the possibilities of what all that money could do for her father’s debts. Determination swept over her earlier panic, and she quickly moved to catch up to him.
“And how big will this ‘test’ portrait be?” She asked.
“I have the desired canvas set up already,” he replied. “You will see in a moment.”
“What exactly am I painting?” Ophelia asked as they stopped at a door; worried that such a timeline would be impossible.
The man turned to her, an amused smirk drawing across his chiseled lips.
“You know for a mute, you talk quite a bit,” the Devil remarked.
“And for a client, you are quite stubborn when it comes to giving details,” she bit back in her deep voice before she could help it.
She pressed her lips together, fearing her back talk had just cost her the much needed work. To her surprise though, the man’s smirk only widened as his blue eyes glittered with excitement, and without a word, he opened the door with a flourish.
Ophelia’s mouth dropped open. Not at the finery of the room, which was elegantly decorated in accents of red and gold, or at the size of the massive four poster bed in the center of it. Not even at the canvas that she was to use, which was nearly as longas her torso and thrice as wide. No, she was gaping at the four beautiful, half-naked masked women that rushed forward to surround the Devil. Their hair was all unbound in varying colors. Their masks, though all black, were different too.
The blonde had a black half-faced mask that revealed only her left cheek and lips. The copper one had a cat-eye mask that only covered around her eye and the top of her pert nose; showing off her high cheek bones and pouty, full lips. The brunette wore not a mask, but a black veil that covered everything but her brown eyes; which had been rimmed with kohl. The raven-haired woman’s mask was naught but a wide strap of black lace, fastened over her eyes so that they were the only part of her face that could not be seen. They were all slightly curvy; all incredibly gorgeous.
She watched with growing discomfort as they all ran their hands possessively over his chest, his back, and arms; as if they were starved for his touch.
“Where have you been?” the brunette beauty pouted as she pressed her bare chest to his back and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
“We have missed you,” the copper-haired Venus added, smoothing her hands down the Devil’s chest.
Ophelia watched, half-mesmerized, half-disgusted, as the Devil chuckled at them and gently removed their hands from his body.
“Now, my darlings, remember what tonight is for,” he said, chastising them as if they were children and not full grown women. “Pose now, play later.”
All four of them pouted and turned to Ophelia, glaring at her as if she were to blame for this new rule.
“This is the painter?” The blonde-haired woman asked, walking a slow circle around Ophelia.
“Looks a bit out of place, does he not?” The raven-haired woman asked, plucking an invisible thread from Ophelia’s jacket.
“Definitely has a frightened look about him,” the copper-haired woman noted, eyeing Ophelia up and down. “Tell me, boy, have you evenseena naked woman before?”
Ophelia’s mind scrambled for an answer, but before she could think of a reply, the masked Devil snapped his fingers, and like obedient pups, they all came back to him.
“Respect our artist, ladies,” he chastised. “It does not matter if he has seen a naked woman or not. What matters is if he can capture them in his art. Now to the bed and into the poses we discussed.”
He then turned to Ophelia, once more giving her that look that made her feel naked in her costume.
