Read Online Julie's Butterfly by Greta Milán - Free Book Online

was hardly surprising under the circumstances. He gave her a brief nod and disappeared into the night.
    Julie was despondent as she made her way home. To stop herself from brooding, she thought about the various antiques she’d seen that day.
    Back at home, she opened her laptop and typed up her notes before crawling into bed. The last thing she saw before falling into an exhausted sleep was Bastian’s penetrating look, which threw her feelings into turmoil, though she hardly knew why.

C HAPTER 7
    Bastian wandered restlessly around his modern loft located on the top floor of an upscale apartment building. The plain white walls were expertly plastered and without a single imperfection. The furniture was simple and functional. Nothing was out of place. There were no pictures on the walls, not even a mirror, and all the surfaces had smooth, matte finishes.
    It had taken him two years to create exactly what he wanted. It had cost him a fortune, but that no longer mattered. Some visitors found his home cold and unwelcoming, but he loved the straight lines and simplicity. He felt totally free there.
    Until this evening.
    He felt like a caged animal.
    On his way to the warehouse earlier, he had been relieved by the prospect of the distraction after a sleepless night. Instead, who had he found there but Julie. Of all people. He could still hardly believe he had found himself cooped up with her in a small storeroom, taking tedious still lifes of a third-rate art collection. Fate must love him.
    He went over to his desk and stared at the photo he’d taken of Julie at the opening. It lay on top of a pile of black-and-white eight-by-ten prints he had made that morning to give to Elena. Julie’s dark eyes, further highlighted by the black-and-white contrast, were warm and expressive. Despite her open nature, he was intrigued by the mystery they concealed.
    He wondered who this woman was and what made her tick, whether she was genuinely happy, or whether her laughter merely masked a deeper sadness.
    He had never spoken to any of the subjects of his photographs before. Usually he knew neither their names nor any details of their lives, had no hint of their character or even the sound of their voices. It hadn’t interested him before. What had counted was the purity of the expression of his pictures. He had concentrated exclusively on the natural magic radiated by his subjects, regardless of their age, gender, or nationality.
    Conversely, these strangers had not the slightest idea—as far as he knew—that he was photographing them.
    He gently stroked her cheek on the matte paper and traced the contours of her sensual mouth. He realized with frustration that his photo only captured a tiny part of her. At the warehouse, he had discovered many more of her facets, this despite the fact that he had done his utmost to avoid getting drawn into conversation.
    He was going to have to face another day with her in the confinement of the storeroom, and he had no idea how he was going to keep his barriers up.
    His carefully cultivated inclination to keep his distance from everyone and everything had never failed him before—even last night in her apartment, when the temptation could not have been greater. Now this restraint weighed as heavily on him as his need for her presence. He wondered whether the next twenty-four hours would shift the balance entirely. That would change everything, and he had no desire for change.
    Never again would he allow someone to hurt him like that bitch had fifteen years earlier. He had only dared to give a girl his heart once, and she had shattered it before he knew what was happening. He was sixteen back then and had a crush on her for a long time. She had captivated and seduced him, and he had allowed himself to enjoy it. He really believed she was different, someone worth opening himself up to.
    The next day, the entire school knew, down to the minutest detail, how he looked naked, and her actions had earned her