While he admired his space, I studied the flower pattern on the chaise lounge in the corner. I gasped and Luke turned to look at me. I lay on the couch with my arm draped in the exact pose as Rose in Titanic.
"Maybe you could draw me like one of your French girls?"
He rolled his eyes. How dare him.
I wondered how many artists had slept there as they worked on their next great masterpiece.
"This is perfect," he said more to himself than to me. Luke was in his own little artist world. It was kind of cute.
I sat up on the chaise and pulled out my laptop, then connected to the Wi-Fi. My email was full of forwards, coupons, and emails from Finn. He warned me that I had not replied to his emails, but Elite emails? I thought I had been removed from the distribution list.
Attention Employees:
Please refer to the handbook, section 7.2 for a refresher on the different variations of harassment. This type of behavior will not be tolerated at The Elite. Also, several jobs have been posted over the course of the last few days. Please visit the portal in the intranet to view the current openings. As always, thank you for your continued hard work.
Kind Regards,
Finnley Felton
Founder & CEO of Elite Corporations
I was a little confused as to why I was still receiving company emails.
I pressed reply.
To Whom It May Concern,
Please remove me from all future correspondence. Much appreciated.
Hope this is the reply you wanted.
-J
A read receipt returned. Finnley had opened the message. I wondered what time it was there. Within a minute, a reply email arrived. I considered leaving it unread.
Consider it done, Miss Downs.
Be careful what you wish for...
-F
I wanted to reply.
I sat there staring at the screen while Luke draped cloth on the floor. My heart raced just thinking about lashing out. Harassment, I wondered what had happened. Must have been something monumental enough for Finnley to send out a corporation-wide email.
I opened a web search bar and typed in "Finnley Felton". I occasionally liked to google stalk him. Several pages had recent updates so I clicked on the top link. He attended a benefit for animals a few days ago and on his arm was a tall blond.
Was that? Holy hell, he had brought Natasha Dragtonsa, U.S. champion tennis player, as his fucking date. I quickly skimmed the article and was directed to another link: Finnley Felton's Fan Page. Dis-fuckin-gusting. The online women practically drooled over his body and money. The comments that were made... well, they made me blush, reading all the naughty things they would do to him. As I suspected, the latest Finn gossip was pinned to the top.
'Finnley Felton is suspected to be dating Natasha. They were chummy at the benefit Wednesday. Will keep you posted.'
I bit my bottom lip and opened an instant message to him. Then jealousy reared its ugly head as I stared at the pictures of them together.
J: What the hell?
The little cursor started moving at the bottom and a miniature mobile phone displayed. He typed on the go.
F: Pardon?
J: Two words. Natasha Dragtonsa.
F: You're ridiculous.
J: YOU ARE!!!!
F: Jealous?
J: Angry.
F: Let me guess. Google? That's cute. Can't get enough of me, can you?
I imagined the look on his face, probably smirking.
F: Jealousy will destroy you if you let it.
J: I need to know where we stand.
F: Don't ruffle your panties. It's not my secret to tell, but she's a lesbian. So STOP googling me. You might find more things you don't like. Woman-child.
J: Ass.
F: If I'm the ass, you're the hole.
I had no response. What does a person say to that?
I slammed the laptop shut and pushed it to the side. Luke turned on some classical music and began working. Pianos and violins filled the room as he dipped his paintbrush in blue-white. Brush stroke after brush stroke and the canvas was covered with different shades of color. He took a step back, moved his hair from his eyes with the back of his hand, and studied the canvas. Then he walked to his next blank slate and dipped a wider paintbrush in black, highlighted with a bit of white, and painted that one too.
I curled up and watched him work.
Luke glanced over his shoulder at me. "Boring isn't it?"
"No. You never told me what the project was for."
"In celebration of the French Revolution. A ceremony will take place in July. The museum contracted me to create different pieces to be presented to the founder."
"Wow. That's amazing and kind of like the story behind the Eiffel Tower."
He smiled. "It's not that amazing."
"Just take a compliment for once."
Splatters of paint covered his hands, and his long sleeves kept slipping down. I walked over, and he stopped painting when I stood beside him.
"Do you need help?" I carefully rolled one sleeve past his elbow. Then I moved to the other side and did the same. My fingers brushed across his skin, and he watched me.
"Thank you," he said, and my fingers lingered long enough for him to look at them then, back at me. I sucked in a deep breath and placed my hands in my pockets. The song changed, and I took that time to change the subject.
"This one reminds me of dancing in college." I removed my flats and pointed my toes.
"I would have loved to watch you dance." Luke pulled me toward him. I held my breath because the way he looked at me was too intense. Friend-zone.
"You're distracting me."
I swallowed. "I'm sorry."
Luke released my hand. "Coffee? There's a café on the corner."
"Sure, I'll go get us some."
"Here's my phone. The museum is in my favorites. Call me if you need anything. You really should have brought your phone with you."
"I know. I didn't want to though."
He handed me a credit card, and I left.
I made my way down the street and took in the architecture of the city.
The coffee shop smelled of cinnamon and sweet bread. The menu was in French, but coffee was a universal language that I knew very well.
The woman smiled at me as I ordered one white and one black coffee. I knew it was my accent. All the French seemed entertained with my Southern drawl.
On the way out, a man bumped into me and caused liquid to drip from the small hole at the top of the cups. Dark eyes stared into mine, and I smiled then apologized to him.
I took my time walking back to the museum, sipping my coffee, and admiring it all. Before I rang the buzzer, Luke's phone vibrated. I dug in my pocket and pulled it out as I pressed the button to be let in.
Finny. He calls him fucking Finny. I answered with a 'What?'
Finn cleared his throat when I answered.
"What are you doing, Miss Downs," he asked, incredulously.
"Is that any of your business?"
"You are my business."
I laughed. "Only if I want to be."
"Keep telling yourself that you're in control, because we both know you aren't. Where is my brother?"
When Luke opened the door I handed him the phone then continued to the studio with our coffees. Luke agreed to call his mother. I walked away not wanting to eavesdrop.
"Mum insists we meet for dinner tonight."