This couldn’t be normal, obsessing over a married woman—but it was my new normal. For my entire life, I’d had to imagine, draw, and paint what it meant to feel… to love… and thisnewfeeling, this exhilarating feeling of fixation, I couldn’t just let it get away.No… I wouldn’t let it get away.
Chapter four
Rosenna
Walkingintomyoffice,I thanked Kira by blowing kiss her way as she placed a few contracts on my desk and handed me my morning coffee.
“Yes, of course. Thank you for considering us. I look forward to hearing from you soon,” I said smoothly before hanging up.
I exhaled, rubbing my temples. The morning had been a blur of meetings and client visits, leaving me with a backlog of emails and the suffocating weight of anticipation—because today wasMonday: the day we’d hear back from Mr. Garcia’s associates on their decision. I felt like biting my nails, but I couldn’t. Not when I had just gotten them done and didn’t want a fresh manicure to go to waste.
Sitting at my desk, I went over the contracts one by one for the next three hours. Around two PM, Kira walked into my office, and by the look on her face, I could tell something was up.
“Kira, what’s wrong?”
She sighed, defeat already thick in her voice. “I’m sorry, Rose. I really tried to get them to say yes.”
The papers in my hand suddenly felt heavier.
“They said no…?”
“I’m sorry, Rose,” she repeated.
I shook my head. “Kira... you did everything you could have and went above and beyond. We… we can find something else,” I murmured, not even believing my own words.
“And don’t be mad… but all of his associates, even Vincent himself, were in favor, but… ultimately Beckham had the final decision.”
I clenched my hands into fists. Had the man focused on anything… anything butme, he would see how much potential this place has and how he could gain so much profit and exposure.
I felt utterly defeated in that moment, wanting to reminisce on what could’ve been—however, Kira was still bouncing up and down as if she had something else to say, distracting me from giving into my rumination.
“Spit it out, Kira,” I muttered.
She pulled out a small card.
“When Vincent’s assistant told me Beckham refused, he also told me to give you his personal number.” She placed it on my desk.
I looked at it in confusion before I looked over at her. “And what am I supposed to do? Call him and beg for him to accept the deal?”
Kira placed both of her hands on my desk as she stared me down. “Yes. Because if you don’t,I will. He has the potential to bring in more than a million dollars’ worth of profit simply by standing there. We need to be on his good side. Otherwise, Mr. Garcia may not give any more opportunities.”
“First of all, you’re speculating what may happen, and second, we don’t need handouts, Kira.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you’re avoiding reality. Of course we don’tneedthem, but if you don’t want to spend the next ten years running yourself into the ground trying to pay these loans back, then weneedand wetakeany handout we can get. And a handout from the troubled billionaire artist seems like a rather tempting one.”
Glaring down at the card, I sighed as I opened my planner. “I’ll think about it.”
She huffed but backed off. “Do more than think about it.”
The morning passed in a fog of stress. We really needed this—needed him. And as the hours went by, and the business card sat there in my eyeline, staring at me almost as intensely as Beckham had in our meeting, my hand began to itch. I didn’twantto pick up the phone and call him… but the urge built and built, until finally—I snatched it up and dialed.
He picked up on the first ring.
“Rosenna.”
I inhaled sharply. His voice was lower than I expected, smooth and rich with something unreadable.
My thighs clenched.
