AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Marcus - " Thomas warned as his mother stepped forward, her expression taut with anger. Her hand automatically landed in reassurance on Rory's stiff shoulder.
"Your mother asked what I was doing here. Fine. " Marcus drew a check out of his coat, turned and handed it to Thomas. "I thought I'd personally deliver your earnings from the work you left with me. "
"But we pulled my work. . . months ago. "
Before Thomas left New York, Marcus had decided to include him in an upcoming gallery showing with bigger names. While Thomas' credentials from art school and awards had been exceptional enough to make his presence in the show acceptable, he was an unknown. Therefore, he'd worked his ass off on the handful of pieces, knowing Marcus was giving him the type of break most artists didn't get offered twice.
His walking out after finishing only half of the promised work brought an end to that. Not to mention it was a credibility blow to Marcus as a gallery owner. Marcus had been in the business long enough to weather such things with a shrug, especially from a nonestablished artist, but Thomas was fairly sure Marcus had never had a lover do it.
While Thomas had missed his chance at the show when his father had the heart attack, it was when Rory's accident brought him home again less than a month later he knew his career as an artist was over. He'd come close, but it wasn't meant to be. He'd known then he wouldn't be going back.
"Since you said you didn't care what was done with them, I decided to feature the pieces in a recent show I held, for deceased artists. " The light trace of sarcasm would go undetected by his family. Not by Thomas. Even as Thomas' jaw tightened, Marcus continued. "I set the prices at what I felt they were worth. I thought you might appreciate the extra income. "
Thomas still hadn't looked at the check, but then Celeste's hand was on his, tilting it. "Oh my God, Thomas. Twenty-five. . . It's twenty-five thousand dollars. "
Pandemonium broke out. Rory pushed his chair forward, nearly running over Les'toes while she continued to exclaim. "Thomas, this is. . . oh my God. Your art. . . " His mother stood there speechless, though he could tell a hundred thoughts were rocketing through her head like mortar fire, her body stiff as if having to withstand the barrage.
But he couldn't help looking down at it himself, touching the ink. Five figures. Five fucking figures for work he had done.
A gallery check. Marcus' logo. Marcus' signature. Thomas' lips tightened, anger filling his mind with heat.
Give him the damn check in front of his family. Like a gift from God.
Pulling the check away from Celeste and Rory, he strode through the store, hearing the shop bells chime as Marcus exited the building ahead of him. His mother called after Thomas, her voice stammering as she tried to Marshall her defenses, but he was already past the defensive line. His own fury could carry him through this. He would handle it.
Chapter Two
Marcus had walked to the end of the parking lot at the edge of the barn and storage area. He now stood looking out at the pasture where the cow raised her head and stared at him. She chewed her cud, as perplexed by him as he seemed mesmerized by her.
"You son of a bitch. "
Marcus glanced at him as Thomas stepped over the curb and crossed the grass to the fence. "An accurate statement, based on what I know of my mother. "
"What is this?" Thomas waved the check. "What the hell are you doing here?" The ache in his chest was suffocating him. He stopped three paces away because - God help him - he didn't trust himself closer. He might go to his knees and beg, and he didn't know for what. He was the one who'd walked away, and nothing had changed about the situation. If anything, it had gotten worse, confirming that he'd made the right decision.
"This is the cow. " When Marcus turned fully to study him, Thomas had to lock his jaw and plant his feet to meet his gaze. "The one you mentioned the day I said you wouldn't be able to sell a picture in my gallery with a cow in it. You told me not only would it sell, I could put it up for auction and people would try to outbid one another for it. "
Marcus, always one to take a challenge, had agreed he'd put the painting up at the next auction. Which had never happened because Thomas left. Thomas forced himself to respond. "Yes, that's her. Kate. Her name is Kate. Les named her. "
"I should hope so. Else you would have been outed long ago. No straight farm boy names his cow, after all. "
The slight edge to Marcus' tone helped Thomas remember the point. He lifted the check. "What is this?"
"I told you. It's your percentage. All of the pieces sold. Even the sculpture, though we both know that's not your best medium. Oils. In your hands, they can become anything. "
As Marcus' attention drifted to his mouth, lingered, Thomas couldn't bear it. He crushed the check in his fist.
"Bullshit. Total bullshit. No way an unknown - hell, one who hadn't even gotten his Master of Fine Arts yet - would get this kind of money. It's you. Your signature, your gallery. There were no buyers. You think you can buy me into being something I can't be, like some boy whore you picked up on the street?" Marcus' green eyes rose, narrowed. "Do you think I'm that desperate, pet?"
No. He didn't think Marcus was desperate at all, whereas Thomas was going to choke on his own misery if he stood here another moment looking at what he wanted so much and couldn't have. Please God, just let him vanish and be one of those million dreams I've had of him before I do something stupid.
"You aren't desperate. But you're used to getting what you want. That's all this is about. You don't want me. You just can't stand that I walked away. I should have expected you sooner. Keep your money, and like I told you then, keep those pieces.
Burn them, toss them in the trash. It doesn't mean anything here. Nothing. You don't mean anything here. "
He slapped the check against Marcus' chest, hard enough to shove him back toward the fence.
He'd overlooked it in his fury, or perhaps he didn't care, craving the fight and the violence, some outlet for everything churning inside of him. While cultured, elegant and beautiful, Marcus was also bloody strong, dangerous as a wolf and knew how to fight in ways far beyond Thomas' skills. He was deadly when crossed, and he was a sexual Dominant.
