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Her features are drawn tight as she looks at me. Her mouth is pulled into a frown.
“Look around you, baby. You’ll be treated like a princess in here. He may be a little rough around the edges but Christian is a very handsome young man. Make the right choice, Daniella.”
She picks up her bag and, after one last look at me, she makes her way out. I fall back onto my bed, curling into a fetal position and staring into nothingness. In the end, my mother left me with more questions than before and no answers.
Eventually, I get to my feet and head down the hallway for a door I’ve declared off-limits to everyone but me. It opens with a click, granting me access into my personal sanctuary. I inhale softly, the scent of paint and toxic chemicals wafting into my nose. My gaze is drawn to the blank canvas on the easel. I haven’t been able to paint anything good since I moved here.
It’s because I haven’t felt comfortable or relaxed. I haven’t accepted this place as my home. Instead of staring my indecision in the face, I turn to my other finished works. I once painted for six hours straight without stopping for a bathroom break or to eat. It resulted in something so chaotic and genuinely me, it chills me to my very core anytime I stare at it.
In my opinion, the painting is genius. But I’ve been so scared to show it to anyone else because they might not see it the same way. It’s mine to look at, mine to admire, and I don’t need people’s opinions to solidify what I know deep within me.
A cloudy afternoon in the city, with a cyclone right in the middle. And it’s heading straight for me. A psychologist would probably have a few words to say about the significance of the painting.
All I know is that it embodies my true feelings.
* * *
“What are you doing?”
I almost jump in fright at the sound of the voice behind me. Which would not have been ideal considering I’m currently on a treadmill.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I ask breathlessly.
Christian moves until he’s standing in front of the treadmill, his gaze narrowing on my face.
“You said you didn’t exercise,” he states.
“I don’t, but sometimes it’s good to sweat out all your frustrations and confusions,” I say, panting.
He arches an eyebrow in question. After a few more seconds of running, I switch off the machine and step down. Christian watches as I grab a small towel, wiping off the sweat. I hadn’t planned on coming down here. But after hitting a mental block when I tried to paint, I decided a new coping mechanism was in order.
That was awful, though. My insides are in upheaval. I’m never getting on that thing again.
“Drink some water,” Christian orders. I give him a look for the tone, despite still reaching for the water bottle and taking a substantial gulp. “Now, are you going to tell me what pushed you to exercise considering you hate it so much?”
“You. And your dumb question from this morning.”
“You mean the dumb question that could very well decide your fate and future?” he asks, amused.
“Yeah, that. Why did you have to give me a choice? This was so much easier when I didn’t have one. All I had to do was go along with it—unwillingly, but at least I wasn’t the one making any decisions. Now this is all on me and it’s so infuriating my head hurts.”
Christian raises a hand to stroke his jaw. The action causes his muscles to flex and tighten under the material of his suit jacket. I’ll admit, I’m getting tired of seeing him in a suit all the time. Then I remember that I’ve seen him in much less. The image of his naked chest rises unbidden in my head, causing my mouth to dry. The man does not have to be this sexy.
“It’s not that hard a decision, Evans. If you don’t want this, say no and it’s done.”
I frown. “We both know it’s not that easy. That’s not how this works.”
“Ah,” Christian says, his eyes brightening with recognition. “Your family, your father’s company.”
“Exactly. I feel like I have to do this, for my family.” Christian nods in understanding, and I suddenly realize I haven’t asked a very important question. “What about you? Do you want to do this?”
Christian shrugs. “I don’t mind.”
I blink before laughing softly. “I just asked you if you wanted to marry me and that’s your response. Wow, Christian, that was so romantic.”
“I’m just being honest,tesoro. Marriage with you wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I wouldn’t mind it.”
“I don’t know if I should feel insulted or not.”
