AllFreeNovel
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After weeks of radio silence, I decided enough is enough. He helped me and that’s it. I might be looking over my shoulders for years to come, but this is the price I have to pay for keeping my grandfather’s apartment. One of my favorite galleries contacted me, and as I look around the room filled with my art and Seoul’s art lovers already outbidding each other for my work, I can’t believe my dream has become a reality. My ex hasn’t reached out, and with being debt free, I’ve been more inspired than I’ve ever been.
Trevor, the gallery owner, walks up to me and smiles. “We have sold almost every single piece, the only one remaining is the one right there,” he says, pointing to the painting I’m not planning on selling. It’s of our entwined hands when Summer let me fuck him, the moment he gave me back the strength I lost. “Are you sure you don’t want to sell? There is one bidder who put in a tenfold offer.”
“What?” I gasp, pushing the memories away where they belong, in the past.
“It was an anonymous bidder on the phone, who was very persistent, think about it,” Trevor says, before saying hello to a couple of art critics I recognize. Going over the numbers in my head I keep staring at the painting of our entwined hands. Should I sell it? Should I let go of him?
“Are you sure you’re really not going to sell?” he insists.
“How much did the person offer again?” I ask, not tearing my eyes away from the painting.
“A lot,” he beams. “You could rent a studio with that money and paint more,” he chuckles.
I push my shoulder against his, “You would like that wouldn’t you?”
He winks, “My commission would.”
I take a deep breath and nod, “Okay, maybe it’s time to let go of this one.”
He grabs his phone and says, “I’ll let the buyer know,” before walking away with a big smile on his face.
“Fuck it,” I whisper and get myself a glass of champagne and look around the gallery, filled with couples. I miss him. There, I said it, I think, running a hand through my hair. I fell for Summer the moment he came to my rescue in the shower, and the ways in which he would kiss the top of my head when he thought I was sleeping. “Let’s get this night over with,” I say under my breath and straighten my shoulders, gearing myself up for another round of greeting people.
“Are you sure you want to stay back here now everyone has left?” Trevor asks. Being half Korean and American, and the son of a famous gallery owner in New York, helps him bring in a lot of clients, and I’m forever grateful for what he did for me. In the weeks we’ve worked together, he’s become a dear friend. I love how he tries to give new artists a podium to exhibit their work, mine included.
“I’ll be okay,” I promise him, as I pull his sweater over my head, the one I stole when I kissed Summer goodbye and left only my sketchbook.
“I can go over the inventory, you should go out and celebrate.” Trevor beams, looking around the room. Every piece got sold. With the money, I can paint more, I can create the rooftop space for me to work and make my grandpop’s apartment a place I always dreamed about.
“Go have fun,” I tell him, and smile when one of his friends enters the gallery. We both bow and he asks again if I’m sure. I give him a hug he returns and watch as they head outside, closing the front door behind them. My phone beeps with an incoming text. I scan the message.
Congratulations with your exhibition.
I frown, not recognizing the number. Probably one of the new owners of my work. I open the door to the backroom and stare at the boxes, and a couple of other paintings for my next exhibit.
I hear the main door open. Fuck, didn’t I close it? “I’m sorry,” I begin. “The gallery is closed,” I say, pushing my phone in my purse. I stop in my tracks when I see who’s standing in the middle of the room, wearing all black, one hand in his pocket like he owns the place.
“What are you doing here, Summer?” I ask, feeling my cheeks flush. The man looks hot and dangerous at the same time, as strands of black hair fall in front of his left eye.
He reaches out and flips the lock on the door. “You shouldn’t leave the door open when you’re alone. I mean, this is Gangnam, but you don’t know what kind of people come knocking.” He raises one brow, and his beauty knocks the wind right out of my chest. He unties his black tie a little and locks eyes with me. They are cold and hard, but I also spot something else in them—longing. Or am I projecting my own feelings on the man? I have missed him these last few months. He didn’t reach out, like I did. It took every ounce of my self-control not to go by his place and what, demand a sit-down to talk about what happened between us? I cringe. I can’t be his, he’ll never believe I want to stay of my own free will.
“Why have you come?” I ask instead, fighting against my emotions of running up to him and burying my head against his chest as he kisses my forehead, holding me close while I feel safe.
“I wanted to see what you did with my own eyes. I like them,” he says, scanning the pieces hanging on the walls, his dark eyes moving over the paintings and stopping at the one with our entwined hands.
“Can you leave? You made it perfectly clear I was nothing but a deal to you,” I bite out.
“You were,” he says, swearing under his breath as he follows me to the backroom. “But I want to keep you,” he tells me, like I’m a thing to be owned like the paintings on the wall.
Turning around, I yell, “Stop it,” in his face. “I’ve been doing fine on my own these last couple of months. I don’t need you to swoop in and save the day again.”
“I will, because you are bound to screw up again, and I decided you’re mine,” he threatens.
“I’m not yours, asshole. I was yours because you won me fair and square, I’m not something you can scare into submission.”
He runs both hands through his hair and frowns at me. He knows I’m right, and he hates it.
“The month is over, I paid my debt to you. Now let me go,” I plead.
