The bright moonlight filtered through the large window, landing directly on a white chaise lounge that looked like it belonged in a French palace.
Is this where I’m going to sit?
My fingers ran across the soft fabric of the chaise lounge, feeling its intricate embroidery.
"Do you like it? Ever since you agreed yesterday, I haven’t stopped thinking about how to make it comfortable for you to pose. I hope this is okay."
Lucas walked in with a tray of fresh fruits, chocolates, and other small refreshnts. He placed the tray on the small table beside the chaise lounge, then turned to look at .
"Yes, this is perfect. Thank you so much. Just tell what to do, I’ve never done this sort of thing before," I said, sitting down.
"No problem at all. I’ve also never painted portraits before, so this will be a new experience for both of us," he smiled and held up a hairbrush. "Do you mind if I brush out your curls a little? They’re lovely, I just want to match the painting a little better."
I nodded, "Yes, go ahead."
Lucas reached out and gently lifted a lock of my hair, brushing it as softly as he possibly could.
"Let know if I hurt you or need to stop."
His voice was hoarse and barely audible, causing my cheeks to heat up. This wasn’t the first ti soone brushed my hair, as the maids had done it when I was younger.
The gentleness behind each brush stroke sent a wave of warmth throughout my body. We were both silent the entire ti, and only the sounds of the brushing could be heard.
It took Lucas almost fifteen minutes to get through all of my hair due to its length.
"There," he finally finished and took a step back to look at the final result. "You look breathtaking."
His smiling face glowed softly from the moonlight behind . His usually golden hair appeared silver, making him look even more angelic than he normally appeared to be. He was wearing a black loose V-neck shirt, which allowed to see just the faintest amount of his muscular chest.
Before I knew it, I was blushing wildly. I didn’t want to admit it, but I wanted to feel more of his gentle touch.
"Shall we begin?" he asked.
His eyes never left . He looked like he himself was being srized, and that’s when I saw it. The familiar look I’ve seen before. The only thing different was that it wasn’t a pair of haunting, deep blue eyes that were looking at .
It was a look that I was familiar with, one that was full of different emotions. Interest, warmth, joy, and desire.
I closed my eyes and opened them again, but when I went back to look at him, his expression changed to his usual, gentle smile.
After one last glance, he disappeared behind the large canvas.
"Just sit back and relax. Today, I’ll only be doing basic outlines. Just let know if you get bored or need a break," he said from behind the canvas.
"Okay!"
-
The bright moonlight continued to filter through the tall windowpanes, casting shifting patterns across the studio floor.
Lucas sat behind the canvas now, mostly hidden save for the occasional movent of his charcoal stick. The sound it made—slow, careful strokes—was oddly soothing. Still, my heart refused to settle.
I adjusted myself slightly on the chaise, trying to find a position that felt natural. Relaxed. But I couldn’t. Not really. Not when I still felt the mory of his fingers in my hair. Not when the way he’d looked at was still seared behind my eyes.
That look...
So warm. So open. So full of sothing unspoken.
It made my stomach tighten.
This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Lucas was kind. Sweet. Attentive. He watched with eyes that never demanded anything. And yet...
My thoughts betrayed , circling back again to another man’s eyes—darker, sharper, haunted by secrets. Christian.
Even when he hurt , part of still clung to him. I hated that. I hated that I still wondered what he would think if he saw here, wrapped in moonlight, being painted like a muse.
I wonder what he’s doing right now.
Does he still think of ?
I closed my eyes, trying to rember the look on his face when I saw him in the hallway. The look he had was unreadable, which only made want to know his thoughts even more.
"Leslie?" asked Lucas, bringing back to reality. "How are you holding up?"
"Hmm? Oh, I’m doing good. Thank you," I replied, readjusting myself on the seat.
I could hear Lucas take a few steps away from the canvas. The next mont, he appeared in front of with a small throw blanket.
"Here, it’s getting slightly chilly. I don’t want you to be cold." He placed the blanket over my lap. His hand brushed against slightly, but he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he bent down so that he was at eye level with .
"I’m not boring you, am I?" I asked suddenly, needing to break the silence before it swallowed whole.
He chuckled—a soft, low sound that made my heart stutter.
"Not even a little," he said. "This might be one of the most peaceful nights I’ve had in a long ti."
"Peaceful?" I asked, unsure why the word struck .
He paused for a brief mont, then added, "With you, it always feels peaceful."
I didn’t know what to say to that. I wasn’t sure I deserved such a kind sentint when my own heart felt like a battlefield.
He flashed a gentle smile before standing up and going back to the painting. I glanced down at the blanket on my lap. I could already feel its warmth on my lap.
The silence returned for a while, but every ti Lucas peeked over the canvas to look at , he would flash a bright smile.
"Lucas," I said.
"Hmm?"
"Why haven’t you ever signed your paintings with your real na?"
He was quiet for a long ti before answering.
"Because painting is the only thing I have that’s mine. The one thing untouched by titles, by family obligations, or expectations. Just sothing I can do for the sake of doing it."
I nodded slowly. I understood more than I wanted to admit.
"You think it’s silly?" he asked, as if sensing my silence.
"No," I said quickly. "I think it’s beautiful."
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