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“Let go.” She steps into my personal space, yet fails to remove her arm from my grip. Instead, the closer she gets, the more I tighten my hold, and I don’t miss the look of surprise that flashes across her face. “You’re pushing your luck today. Last warning.”
“Answer me.”
“It means you’re out of your league, little girl.”
“That’s where you are wrong, Miss Scott,” a male voice says and both our faces turn, finding Tero standing not far from us with both hands in his pockets. He’s dressed for a day at the office, yet no blazer, and the tie is long gone, it seems. “Now, why don’t you share with her the illegal move you tried to accomplish three days ago after seeing that pathetic man who worked as a copyright lawyer.”
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“Oh, but it does, mulher. Você está fodido.”
Once again, Elise tries to snatch her arm back, and I relent after her second failed attempt, stepping off to the side. Tero also takes his place beside me, leaving her ample room to walk back the way she came, and after another glare, she does. There’s no explanation from her over his accusation, and dread fills my stomach.
“Why would she go see a lawyer? What is—”
“We need to talk, Gabriella. Let’s take a walk.”
“Only after you tell me what you told her in another language?” I’m already heading down the pathway with him close behind, almost like a guard dog protecting my steps. “And where is Theodore? I haven’t heard from—”
“One at a time, Miss Moore.”
“Cut the formalities, Tero.” Rolling my eyes, I head toward the park nearby. This deviation is going to put me behind schedule, my much-needed trip to the supply store will be a tight one, but he has to be here for a reason. “Spill.”
“All I said is that she’s fucked in Portuguese.”
“And I learned something new.” Laughter, loud and high-pitched, bursts forth and I’m unapologetic in it. Thank God he doesn’t get offended, and instead chuckles beside me, shoulders shaking. We stand like that for a few minutes on the sidewalk, both finding hilarity in the stupidest thing, but then another thought pops into my head. “Is that your native tongue?”
“You could say that since I was born in Brazil.” He’s smiling, the look on his face one of reminiscing while pointing toward the park’s entrance. I’m following his lead, and we walk until reaching an open area with benches along the path. No one is there and before I can ask, he bumps his shoulder into mine. “Besides, you’ll probably have worse to say when—”
“One, are you stalling? And two, most definitely.”
“You could say so, but—”
“I’ll take it from here, Tero.”
His voice never fails to send shivers down my spine and harden my nipples. It’s soothing, yet feels like molten lava flowing across my senses, a dominating presence that’s undeniably man. Sensual. Commanding.
“Theodore.”
“Hello, beautiful.” He steps beside me and bends down just enough to lay a kiss on my cheek as the other man leaves; his lips hover there a second longer than what’s considered the norm. My skin also tingles there. My body wants to feel them again. “How have you been these last few days?”
“Relentlessly working.”
“On my pieces?”
“Yeah.” Theodore attempts to ask me something else but I shake my head, holding a hand up. “But I have a feeling that what you need to share is far more important than my delving into the wonderful world of bases and setups.”
“True.” He doesn’t chuckle as I expect, and my stomach twists. “Please have a seat.”
“How bad?”
“Take a look, and I’ll tell you what I think.” It’s then I notice a folder already placed on the bench, and I sit on the edge before picking it up with a bit of hesitation. My eyes go from it to Theodore’s, and he nods, encouraging me to open up and read down the first page. He chooses to remain standing while I flip to the next page and the next, not truly wanting to believe what I’m reading while I’m once again smacked in the face by betrayal. Why, Elise?
“Jesus.” Because what else can I say as the papers in front of me depict how Elise tried to copyright my artwork as her own. The filing is here. It’s her name on the dotted line. “How the hell could she do this? Does this mean she owns my currently available work? What about the pieces already sold or commissioned?”
Is this part of her threat? What she’s using to warn me off with?
Tears gather at my eyes, and my heart clenches so painfully tight that I gasp, the papers falling from my grasp. All my hard work. All the sacrifices and hours spent in my studio.
