He caught my eye.
Something powerful and ancient throbbed between us.
Something we couldn’t control.
I was wrong.
He did care.
He cared a great deal.
His forehead furrowed as he drank me in. His shoulders fell as he sighed. “It’s over. Go take a shower. I’ll get cash for you.” Turning away, he marched into his office without a backward glance.
* * * * *
“Holy mother of mercy,” I whispered under my breath.
The mirror reflected me.
But it wasn’t me.
I’d vanished and left behind some storybook empress.
This magical creature drenched in reds and blues, purples and shadow could never be me.
Wow.
Just...wow.
Gil’s bathroom hid me from the cold warehouse. I’d intended to rush into the shower and rid myself of the strange sensation of being wrapped in something foreign.
But that was before the full-length mirror trapped my gaze and I was hypnotised.
I’d seen his talent on YouTube. I’d studied the complicated designs he’d done and always known he was a wizard with paint.
But now?
Now, I had a whole new appreciation for why people called him the Master of Trickery.
Inching forward, I didn’t focus on my nudity. How could I when I wore something so much more than mere clothes?
I wore Gilbert’s mark. His time and energy and skill.
My torso no longer held breasts or ribs or muscle. It was an underwater cavern with spiels of light illuminating black pockets where eels and crustaceans hid in the gloom. But in the bright sunlight shining from my chin, down my clavicle, and dappling my chest, krill and multi-coloured gemstone fish frolicked, almost as if my ribcage had become an aquarium for such incredible sea life.
Twisting a little, my eyes widened in amazement as I studied a glowing crystal ball depicting a scene of a shipwreck with glittery rhinestones on my hip. Flowing over my shoulder was a perfect waterfall. It puddled in my collarbone before spilling free with blue glitter and silver thread, as lifelike and as wet as any liquid down my arm.
It was magic—pure and simple.
The commission must’ve been for an aquarium or travel advertisement or something that inspired nature and adventure.
It inspired me.
I felt like I could swim underwater and summon all manner of wildlife.
I felt royal.
The photos he’d taken would no doubt be sent to whoever requested this piece, and somewhere out there, in some busy shopping complex or some glossy magazine, people would stare at my naked body and not see a woman but an entire underwater kingdom with me as its ruler.
I’d thought he didn’t see me as a person.
I was wrong.
He’d seen past that simple illusion and shown me that even my own perception was too narrow.
Wearing his paint made me stand taller, act prouder, move smoother. I posed as if I wore an expensive gown, custom made and agonisingly tailored to perfection.
I wasn’t human.
No way.
I was more.
So, so much more.
And for the first time in a very, very long time...I was happy.
Chapter Seven
______________________________
Olin
-The Present-
“HERE’S YOUR CASH.”
I dragged fingers through my damp hair, slightly tangled from towel drying and not having a brush. “Thanks.” I moved toward him, hoisting my bag up my shoulder. My clothes were back in place, and my skin returned to bland—vacant of rhinestones and illusions.
I gingerly reached for the envelope enclosing money that would buy me a few more days of roof and walls. “Appreciate it.”
He grunted something and turned away. Just like me, he was clean from any paint, apart from a single streak of navy on his jawline.
My stomach did a little flip.
Stop it, O.
Just stop it.
He looked up as I shoved the envelope a little too firmly into my bag.
“Don’t you want to count it?”
I shook my head, unable to hold his gaze. “It’s fine.”
“You don’t even know the going rate.”
“No, but I trust you.”
“You really shouldn’t.”
I smiled softly, keeping my eyes on the concrete floor and begging my cheeks not to flame.
I shouldn’t trust him?
He shouldn’t trust me.
I’d done something in that bathroom. In the twenty minutes it’d taken me to shower, I’d dabbled in a fantasy that had seemed too real. I’d pretended Gil kissed me that night in my house. I envisioned years of togetherness instead of distance.
And now, I was ashamed because I’d been tempted to deal with the coursing desire he’d left me with by delivering an orgasm by my own hand in his shower.
I hadn’t.
Of course, I hadn’t.
But the urge had been almost undeniable.
Standing in front of that mirror, total awe had shoved aside my wariness and twisted my feelings into something I daren’t contemplate.
I didn’t have a name for the surging complexity of emotions.
Pain.
Hope.
Forgiveness.
I doubted I ever would. But I could admit that I admired him. Greatly. And any wariness and hurt were now shadowed by utmost appreciation.
And a fair amount of regret.
Regret for the past. Regret for not trying to find him when he disappeared.
“You’re incredibly talented, Gil,” I murmured, finally mustering the courage to look at him.
He seemed to have aged since I’d left him to shower. Exhausted smudges under his eyes. His five o’ clock shadow making him angular and unforgiving. “Just lines and fading.”
“It’s a lot more than that, and you know it.”
He looked away, moving to lean against his mixing table as if he needed the support. His body language blocked off conversation as bluntly as possible. “At least the commission is done.”
“So you don’t need me to come back?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I don’t.”
I forced a smile again. “I understand.”
He narrowed his eyes, glaring directly into me. “You need to leave now, Olin.”
I glanced at the exit, then back to him.
I could leave.
I should leave.
And yet...
“Is it painful? To see all that time and effort disappear?”
How did he do it? How did he stand creating design after design, never to see or touch it again once the canvas had showered?
“Excuse me?” His face covered in dark clouds, warning I wasn’t welcome with my hardships and heartaches.
“That masterpiece you did. I struggled to wash it off.” I laughed gently, even though I didn’t find it funny. More like sad. And a little heart-wrenching. “You invested so much time and energy into something unbelievably magical. Only for it to vanish.”
I didn’t mean for the past to enter this chat, but somehow it did, licking around us like mist, making him stiffen and frost to feather over his features.
Gil was beyond talented, and that sort of craftsmanship ought to be recognised—even if the boy ran away and left behind a man with the bad manners of a hardened aristocrat.
I meant what I said. It’d seemed barbaric to wash so many minutes of his life away, eradicating something so beautiful.