Page 42 of Stroke of Luck

I am pleased that Othello’s taken the time to introduce me to everyone before he lays down the law. I wave at each of them as they are introduced, hoping to avoid any more issues like I had with Molly. Tiffany and Sarah seem to be close to my age, if not a little younger, and they both give off a much more welcoming vibe.

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” I greet warmly.

Othello comes to stand behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders and kissing the top of my head before he speaks. “Skyler is my fiancée, and she is to be treated with the respect and manner in which you treat me. She is the mistress of this house, and anything she says is as if it’s coming out of my mouth.”

Tony grins at me, giving me a nod, pleased with what Othello’s telling him. Tiffany shoves Sarah’s shoulder as if they’d had bets on who I am. Mat just nods in understanding, not all that fussed about the situation. Dearest Molly remains silent, eyes on her shoes, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself.

I decide to speak up. “So my only request is that you all just call me by my name. I’m not the type to need some stuffy title,” I say, elbowing Othello gently so he knows I’m teasing him. “I’m not at all used to having staff helping in the house, so feel free to tell me if I’m doing something wrong. I promise I’m not a scary person.”

Tiffany raises her hand, which makes me chuckle. “Ma’am, I mean, Skyler, did you paint that portrait?”

Bless her sweet soul for not saying where it is in the house and ruining the surprise. “I sure did. But it’s still a work in progress, so don’t judge it too harshly.”

“I would never! It already looks amazing, I can’t wait to see it done. It just fits the wall so nicely,” Tiffany gushes, her cheeks turning red as she realizes she is rambling.

“Thank you, I hope the others like it just as much as you do.” I grin, giving her a wink, hoping it will let her know this is a secret.

Othello wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds me tight to his chest. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve been working on, baby girl. Can I see it yet?”

“Absolutely not!” I blurt in an overly dramatic way. “The first time you see my work I want it to be further along. Right now it’s just an outline and some basic shading done. I want to make sure it really wows you.”

I hope that is enough for him to believe me and drop the matter.

“They always say that artists are their own worst critics, but I won’t press the issue if you’re not ready to show it to me yet,” Othello relents, kissing my temple.

My stomach grumbles again to make sure that everyone is aware that I am still hungry and need to be fed.

“Well, little lady, it sounds like you are in need of some lunch. Let me know where you want to eat and I’ll have one of the girls bring it to you,” Tony offers, instantly moving into action pulling things out of the fridge. “Oh, while I have you here, I suppose I should ask if there is anything you’re allergic to or don’t like to eat. I’ve been lucky with these heathens—they aren’t too picky.”

“Not allergic to anything that I know of, and since I am one of the world’s worst cooks, I’ve learned not to be picky about what someone will feed me. Otherwise I would be living off of blue box mac and cheese, frozen waffles, Pop-Tarts, and the all-wonderful Hot Pocket,” I confess. “Although I think this house could use some more snack food—it’s severely lacking if we want to have a movie night or something. How does a house not have popcorn?”

Tony gives me a huge smile before he turns his attention to Othello. “Don’t fuck this up, alright? I like her.”

I wait for Othello to snap back at the man, but instead he just grins. “I’ll do my best. I’m finding that I’m getting kind of attached to her.”

Rolling my eyes, I pull out of his arm. “Should we eat in your office, or are you sick of being in there?”

“Why don’t we go eat in your studio?”

“Nice try, asshole. You’re not getting to see my painting yet,” I snap, hands on my hips, glaring at him. “You think you could pull one over on me that quick?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Worth a try.”

Seeing that I’m not going to give on that, we head back down to his office and enjoy our lunch that Sarah brings down for us. We don’t really talk as we eat, just enjoying each other’s company until he gets a phone call and is right back to working. I slip out of his office and head back to working on my masterpiece, wanting to make sure that I get some color on it before anyone sees it. This is going to be a large installment, and I know it won't be done in a day, but hopefully they’ll see my vision and let me finish it.

It feels so good to be back with a brush in my hand and the smell of paint in the air. This is what fuels my soul and keeps me sane. Putting art out into the world is such a personal thing; each painting is an extension of myself. I know not everyone will like my style, yet it doesn’t stop me from creating what is rattling around in my brain so loud I can’t ignore it. The feel of the brush against the wall as I work sets me in an almost meditative state, allowing me to just feel and flow with the paint. As time passes and the image in my head becomes more clear, the dimension and depth to the portrait comes to life. It is one of the first pieces I’ve done that I’ve modeled after myself, but I can’t see this working out any other way.

“Skittles, what…”

Enzo’s voice snaps me back into reality, and I turn and nearly fall off the ladder in my hurry. He snatches me off the ladder before I can truly fall off, clutching me to his chest.

“What the hell, woman?! Don’t scare me like that, almost falling off the goddamn ladder,” Enzo barks.

“Then don’t just appear out of nowhere and surprise me like that,” I counter, pushing back so I can see his face as I scowl at him.

“Oh no, you are not going to blame this on me when you where supposed to be painting in your studio, not in the middle of the fucking stairs. Wasn’t the agreement that you would talk to all of us before you did something like this?”

“Ha, there wasn’t an agreement. You told me that’s what was going to happen, and you expected me to just go with it?” I huff, wiggling out of his arms. “Are you telling me that you don’t think this is a massive improvement over a bare ass white wall??”