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She pushed off the wall and went back to the tarp on the floor, gripping the paintbrush between her fingers. I flicked off the monitor and left my office. Raced downstairs to the second floor and told Marcello to take a lap before I entered my mother’s studio.
Alex was on her stomach with her butt in the air, the paintbrush gliding across the canvas. I loved watching her work. She looked so free and in her element. My mother had the same look when she painted, as if nothing mattered while creating another masterpiece.
I stopped in front of her, my hands stuffed into my pockets. She looked up at me with a sexy smile gracing her full lips.
“Stop staring at me.” She pointed at the armchair beside her. “If you’re going to linger, sit and stop hovering over me.”
“Hovering is what I do best.”
“Sit or leave.” She waggled her eyebrows at me. “Make your choice.”
I laughed at her feistiness. No one but Alex could ever tell me what to do and get away with it.
“We both know who is in charge in this relationship.” I dropped into the chair beside her. “But I hear marriages take compromise to work.”
“They do.” She sat up and put her palms on her thighs, those pretty blue eyes aimed at me. “So you better learn how to share the power in this relationship.”
I smirked. “Whatever you want, my queen.”
“You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”
I reached out and touched her cheek. “I’m happy to have you back. But is there something you need to tell me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, I don’t think so. Unlike you, I don’t keep secrets.”
“No more secrets,” I promised.
“Why do you think I’m lying to you?”
I dropped my hand from her face and leaned forward. “Because you said you were okay. But I just watched you talk to my mother’s painting on the security feed.”
She tipped her head back and laughed. “You saw me?”
I nodded. “I heard what you said.”
“I’m not losing it,” she assured me. “I talk to your mom all the time. We’re besties.” She giggled, flicking her curls over her shoulder. “Marcello knows I talk to her. He caught me a few times. Sometimes, he talks to her, too.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Crazy and beautiful. I guess I can’t get one without the other.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t talked to her.”
“It’s different.” I shrugged. “She was my mother. I knew her.”
“Her art speaks to me the way a song would for others. I don’t need to hear her words to understand how she felt.” She scooted closer to my chair and moved between my legs. “The first time I saw one of her paintings, I cried. It was so beautiful… It was like she understood my pain.”
I dabbed at her tears. “She would have loved you.”
Alex rubbed at her eyes and smiled. “When my grandfather adopted me, I was so excited to meet the sons of my favorite artist. But you were so… vile.” She breathed through her nose and swatted at another fallen tear. “Well, we won’t go into the past. But I was so upset and not just because you were mean to me. I thought you and Marcello would be more like your mom. I thought the sons of an artist would be less… What’s the word?” She tapped her index finger on her lips. “Less uptight.”
“I’m not uptight.”
Her laughter filled the air. “Yes, you are, Luca. You’re so serious all the time.”
“I’m trying,” I confessed.
“I know.” She licked her lips as our eyes met. “I’m so proud of you and all the progress you’ve been making. That’s what I was telling your mom.”
I leaned forward and kissed her sexy lips.
