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As I walk further into the room, my eyes are drawn to the sketches covering almost every empty space along the walls. Charcoals of faces, mostly beautiful girls or elderly people, each of the images striving to capture their true essence. The skilful lines and subtle shading reveal a level of talent that surprises me.
I raise my eyebrows knowing that these were all drawn by one person… Kaan. “These are… extraordinary.”
Kaan nods, his eyes flickering with a hint of pride. “Thanks.” He runs his hand through his tousled locks. “It’s just something I do to unwind.”
“Are you working on one now?” I point at an easel in the corner. “May I?”
He tenses slightly but nods. I walk closer to the sketch and lean in to examine the intricate details and emotions that seem to radiate from the man’s face. Tired of living, pain etched in every crease line, his eyes filled with sadness. “Who is this?”
“My father.”
“You never talk about him.”
I sense a shift in the air, a sudden change in Kaan’s demeanour. He takes a deep breath before changing the subject abruptly. “You know, this building was originally a hops processing warehouse.”
“Seriously?” A snort escapes my lips. “Only you could find yourself living in a beer factory.”
“I swear you can still smell the hops emanating from the bricks.” Kaan chuckles at my insinuation. “It’s very comforting.”
“You know, I was expecting something a little more… rockstar-ish.”
Kaan raises an eyebrow. “What, like a hot tub filled with champagne and groupies hanging from the ceiling?”
“I call it like I see it.” I settle myself onto a kitchen stool and he glides a dirty martini across the smooth granite counter towards me. The strong scent of gin wafts up, but I resist the temptation to indulge and instead focus on the matter at hand—food. “Have you ordered?”
“Are you always this demanding?”
“Yes, more so when I’m racing across town in peak-hour traffic for a meeting with a client that’s been off-grid all day.”
He points at the familiar red delivery bags from Zheng’s on the counter behind him. “Been busy.”
“Where were you?”
“Worried I was out shagging a groupie?”
“Not in the slightest.” I fight to reconcile if I cared if he were shagging another woman or not. All I can think of is how he made me declare that I’m his. Does he want to screw a groupie, or is he mine as well?
The aroma wafts under my nose as he starts to unpack the containers of food. “I had a meeting with the label.”
“And how did that go?”
“Same old shit. They want me to tone down my image.”
“But how will anyone recognise you if you’re not kitted in your signature ‘rockstar on a bender’ outfit?”
Kaan throws his hands up in exasperation. “And peddle their bullshit music.”
“And what did you tell them?”
“I told them to go fuck themselves.” I feel Kaan’s eyes graze over me, feral and yet somehow there’s a glint of helplessness. The butterflies in my stomach stir to life. “You look beautiful by the way.”
“Thanks.” As much as I try to control myself, heat rushes to my face at his compliment. “You look nice too.”
Kaan’s mischievous eyebrows dance playfully as he catches the heat rise to my face. With a casual flick of his hand, he tugs his sweater over his head, unveiling a sight that makes my heart skip a beat. Clad in a snug black t-shirt that molds perfectly to his sculpted physique, accentuating every well-defined contour. The fabric rides up ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of the tantalising treasure hidden beneath. My eyes follow the path downward, unable to resist the magnetic pull. They settle on his hips, where his pants hang low in the right and oh-so-wrong way.
“You’re not digging mysalvar?”
Kaan looks so hot in those crazy pants, he could set off a fire alarm!
