I closed my eyes and pressed the glass of water against my cheek, trying not to lt in front of him.
He stood again and gave a soft smile. "If you’re not feeling well, I can bring you ho."
"No!" I said too quickly, nearly choking on my tongue. "I an...I’m fine. Really. I want to stay."
He looked surprised, but pleased. "Alright then. Just let know if you need anything."
I nodded, though what I needed was for this maddening heat to stop devouring from the inside out.
Lucas moved behind the canvas once more, but I could feel him watching through the gaps in the fra.
And for the first ti, I didn’t mind. In fact, I hoped he looked longer.
-
Lucas remained behind the canvas for the rest of the evening, sketching with focused intensity. The quick, deliberate strokes of his pencil echoed through the room. He was completely absorbed.
At least one of us can stay focused.
I stayed draped on the chaise, nibbling absentmindedly on cheese and crackers. The buzz from the wine was finally beginning to go away, leaving behind a lingering warmth and a mind slightly clearer, but only slightly.
"Do you want to co take a look?" Lucas called, peeking out from behind the easel. "It’s still a rough sketch, but I think I’m ready to start painting now."
I perked up, straightening my back. "Yes! I’d love to!" I said, skipping over to his side.
My breath caught as soon as I saw the canvas. Even unfinished, the lines were unmistakably . My posture, my expression, the curve of my neck, it was all there, captured with unmistakable care.
"It’s amazing!" I said. Then I tilted my head, recognizing a shift. "But it’s different from the image before. Wasn’t this originally the runway scene?"
Lucas nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "Yes, until I realized that painting you in this setting would be even more captivating. It’s a big more personal. Is that alright?"
My cheeks ward, but I nodded. "Yes. It’s alright."
His gaze lingered on for a second longer before he looked back at the sketch. "Thank you," he said softly. "I promise you’ll love it. I’m putting everything I have into it."
There was no doubt in my mind that he was putting everything he had into the painting. The way he looked at the canvas was like he was looking at sothing precious. And knowing that I was the subject of that soft devotion made my heart flutter in a way I hadn’t expected.
---
My head was still in the clouds when I finally arrived ho. But the mont I stepped through the door, I felt the heavy atmosphere press down on .
Inside the living room, my mother was sitting next to my father, her hand gently stroking his thigh. It was sothing she only did when my father was extrely stressed.
"Is there anything we could do? Maybe ask for so more ti?" she asked in a gentle voice.
My father remained quiet, but lifted his hand to rub his eyes with frustration.
Morgan sat quietly on the opposite side with Anthony. Both of them had their eyes fixed on the ground, frozen in place.
What happened here?
Whatever it was prevented anyone from noticing as I arrived.
"How much money are we short?" Morgan asked, giving more insight into the situation.
"More than I’d like to admit," my father replied angrily. His entire face was red, and his hands were slightly trembling.
I walked over awkwardly and stood beside the couch where Anthony and Morgan were sitting. It was only then did my mother look over and notice .
eting her glance, I nodded as I greeted her. "Mother, Father."
My father didn’t even bother looking over at as he simply waved his hand as if he was dismissing . My mother looked at , frowning slightly as she looked over my outfit.
"Did you go to the office like that today?" she asked with a snappy tone. Her question caused Morgan to glance over at .
I nodded, "Yes, Mother." As I replied, I pulled up the white jacket that covered my exposed shoulders, lifting it for her to see.
The anger in her eyes slowly dissipated, but she still opened her mouth to scold . "Next ti, wear sothing more appropriate. That dress isn’t ant to be worn to the office."
"You seriously wore that? Are you blind?" Morgan chid in. Her voice was sharp and ruthless. I could feel her gaze on my neckline, looking at with hatred.
I glanced down at my white dress. Although it wouldn’t be my first choice when it ca to office attire, there were plenty of options that were worse. I simply wanted to be a little different today.
"I didn’t think it would be that bad. I wore a jacket, which follows the current trend, does it not?"
Morgan didn’t reply because she knew I was right. There was a new trend of wearing ankle-length dresses with blazer jackets.
Don’t worry. I wasn’t seducing your prized fiancé.
"So, what’s going on. Are we facing so sort of financial trouble?" I asked, finding it hard to believe we would ever run low on money.
"Yeah, it seems like there were so issues with the people we get our auction items from. They’re demanding that we pay for the goods even though they were damaged," Morgan said, filling in.
I noticed how the frown on my father’s face deepened. I wasn’t really familiar with the whole process of how our auction business ran since my father made sure to never let near it.
But as I looked at my father, Christian’s words suddenly rang in my head.
Human trafficking? Surely there’s no possible way.
I scoffed at myself for even entertaining the thought. If we were involved in human trafficking, I’m sure more serious issues than money problems would arise.
My father finally slamd his fist on the armrest of the couch.
"We need Christian to marry Morgan by the end of the month."
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