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Authors: Chloe Kale
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and
then all night fucking. I could certainly get used to that.
I realized Will would return home from
work any moment. My self-doubts crept back. When he knew the painting was
finished, would our short relationship be over? Were we even in a relationship
at all?
“Clarissa,” Will said as he set down his
briefcase in the open concept entryway to the studio. The bedroom loomed behind
him, casting him in a sudden silhouette as he flicked the light on.
Chapter 2
“Oh, Will. You’re back,” I said tentatively,
my back to the glass window.
“Nice tank top, Cee.” He had started
calling me Cee recently, despite my chagrin at the nickname.
“Thanks, I picked it myself.” I slowly
walked towards him.
“Oh did you?” He said, matching my pace.
“Yeah, I think grey is my colour. What do
you think?”
“I think you’d look better with it off.
But that’s just me.”
We stood nose to nose. He kept his arms
at his hips, in a type of Superman pose.
“Well,” he said, “productive day for
you?”
“You could say that,” I said, shying
away.
“It’s done?” He asked, nodding his head
in the direction of the canvas; the middle of the studio.
“I’m not sure. Maybe. No. Well, kinda.” I
stammered. It was happening; the moment of truth. He would look upon my work
and decide my fate.
“Alright, Cee. May I?” He took a step
towards the canvas, and then looked at me.
Usually he would never ask my permission,
my commanding and demanding billionaire, but when it came to my art he knew the
limit.
“You may. Go ahead, Will.” I said.
Although I was always very open with my billionaire, I suddenly felt like the
old anxious Clarissa. “I hope you are pleased.”
“Clarissa… it’s…” He started.
In that moment I felt time freeze. I
watched the expression on his face; his eyebrows rose and his steel eyes
slightly widened, his pupils dilating ever so subtly. The chiseled lines of his
jaw clenched in a slight smile; the same quizzical grin he had once given me as
we met for the first time. The kind of grin I couldn’t decipher. The kind of
grin that had hooked me immediately. I was scared of what he’d say, but as long
as I had this one moment… I could survive. Damn it, my stupid feelings. Stupid
nerves. Stupid heart. Stupid Clar-
“It’s beyond perfect. It’s you.”
My heart stopped for a moment.
“It’s quite striking. I’d be proud to
place it in my home.”
“You know you don’t have to flatter me.
If something’s wrong with it, I can try again. Or you can get someone better to
paint it.”
“Clarissa. Don’t look down on yourself
like that. You’re a gifted artist, and this piece is everything I wanted.” He
took me by the hands, as I avoided his eyes. Damn those eyes.
“Okay… so, let’s say you love it. What’s
next for me? Am I done?” I asked, although I was scared of the answer.
“No, Cee. Of course not,” he said, squeezing
my hands. “Look at me. Look up.”
He tilted my chin up, so I had to look in
his eyes. Damn it. That always worked.
“So you didn’t just commission me to
sleep with me?”
Will laughed.
“Is that what you thought?” He asked.
I nodded solemnly.
“I commissioned you because I saw real
promise in your sketchbook. If I just wanted to sleep with you, do you think I
would have gone through this farce?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure what to
believe. I was careful to avoid his eyes again, because whenever I looked in
them I could be convinced of anything.
“Clarissa. You’ve known me for a few
weeks now, and you should know better than this.” He said matter-of-factly.
“You’re better than that, and I’m better than that.”
He was started to speak roughly, the
sweet tone in his voice fading like a dream, turning back into the bossy
billionaire I had come to know.
“I won’t have that kind of thinking or
that kind of attitude.” He said, lifting my head to force my eyes once more.
“You will be a better
then all night fucking. I could certainly get used to that.
I realized Will would return home from
work any moment. My self-doubts crept back. When he knew the painting was
finished, would our short relationship be over? Were we even in a relationship
at all?
“Clarissa,” Will said as he set down his
briefcase in the open concept entryway to the studio. The bedroom loomed behind
him, casting him in a sudden silhouette as he flicked the light on.
Chapter 2
“Oh, Will. You’re back,” I said tentatively,
my back to the glass window.
“Nice tank top, Cee.” He had started
calling me Cee recently, despite my chagrin at the nickname.
“Thanks, I picked it myself.” I slowly
walked towards him.
“Oh did you?” He said, matching my pace.
“Yeah, I think grey is my colour. What do
you think?”
“I think you’d look better with it off.
But that’s just me.”
We stood nose to nose. He kept his arms
at his hips, in a type of Superman pose.
“Well,” he said, “productive day for
you?”
“You could say that,” I said, shying
away.
“It’s done?” He asked, nodding his head
in the direction of the canvas; the middle of the studio.
“I’m not sure. Maybe. No. Well, kinda.” I
stammered. It was happening; the moment of truth. He would look upon my work
and decide my fate.
“Alright, Cee. May I?” He took a step
towards the canvas, and then looked at me.
Usually he would never ask my permission,
my commanding and demanding billionaire, but when it came to my art he knew the
limit.
“You may. Go ahead, Will.” I said.
Although I was always very open with my billionaire, I suddenly felt like the
old anxious Clarissa. “I hope you are pleased.”
“Clarissa… it’s…” He started.
In that moment I felt time freeze. I
watched the expression on his face; his eyebrows rose and his steel eyes
slightly widened, his pupils dilating ever so subtly. The chiseled lines of his
jaw clenched in a slight smile; the same quizzical grin he had once given me as
we met for the first time. The kind of grin I couldn’t decipher. The kind of
grin that had hooked me immediately. I was scared of what he’d say, but as long
as I had this one moment… I could survive. Damn it, my stupid feelings. Stupid
nerves. Stupid heart. Stupid Clar-
“It’s beyond perfect. It’s you.”
My heart stopped for a moment.
“It’s quite striking. I’d be proud to
place it in my home.”
“You know you don’t have to flatter me.
If something’s wrong with it, I can try again. Or you can get someone better to
paint it.”
“Clarissa. Don’t look down on yourself
like that. You’re a gifted artist, and this piece is everything I wanted.” He
took me by the hands, as I avoided his eyes. Damn those eyes.
“Okay… so, let’s say you love it. What’s
next for me? Am I done?” I asked, although I was scared of the answer.
“No, Cee. Of course not,” he said, squeezing
my hands. “Look at me. Look up.”
He tilted my chin up, so I had to look in
his eyes. Damn it. That always worked.
“So you didn’t just commission me to
sleep with me?”
Will laughed.
“Is that what you thought?” He asked.
I nodded solemnly.
“I commissioned you because I saw real
promise in your sketchbook. If I just wanted to sleep with you, do you think I
would have gone through this farce?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t sure what to
believe. I was careful to avoid his eyes again, because whenever I looked in
them I could be convinced of anything.
“Clarissa. You’ve known me for a few
weeks now, and you should know better than this.” He said matter-of-factly.
“You’re better than that, and I’m better than that.”
He was started to speak roughly, the
sweet tone in his voice fading like a dream, turning back into the bossy
billionaire I had come to know.
“I won’t have that kind of thinking or
that kind of attitude.” He said, lifting my head to force my eyes once more.
“You will be a better
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