His Gift (A Dark Billionaire Romance Part 3) by Dark Aubrey

Author:Dark, Aubrey [Dark, Aubrey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-25T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

It was the day before the end of the week. I was his gift for another twenty-four hours, and that would be all.

As usual—strange, how quickly things can become usual—he got ready to leave in the morning.

“Paint,” he said. “I left you a gift in the studio.”

With that, he was gone.

When I walked into the art studio, a terrycloth robe draped around my naked shoulders, I gaped at what I saw. A huge canvas, fifteen feet on all sides, lay flat on the floor. I’d filled up most of the smaller canvases in the room, and what had been a room of total white was now cluttered with my pieces. But this canvas was perfectly untouched, and so large that for a moment my mind dizzied with the possibilities.

“Think,” I murmured to myself. “Think.”

My hands gathered their materials as I thought. There had been a painting I wanted to try for a long time. In my mind, it was two forms that looked like trees, growing together intertwined. I didn’t know if this was the right canvas to try it on, and I didn’t know if I could pull it off, but I could try, couldn’t I?

As I painted, my frustrations grew. The painting was so big that I couldn’t get a good look at the whole of it, and I was relegated to painting it in parts, bit by bit.

Lunch came and went. Jake had taken to having one of his servants stop by to drop off a sandwich at the door of the art studio, but when they knocked this time I shouted for them to leave me alone. Stupid food. Stupid art. I wasn’t hungry. I could eat after I’d finished.

I used rollers to put in the background colors, but when I stepped back I frowned in dismay.

No. Not quite like that. The light wasn’t right. Everything was the same value, nothing stood out.

I backed away from the huge canvas and tried on a smaller one, a rectangle. I sketched out the crude lines of what I had in mind, then blocked in the colors. It took me about an hour to get the shapes the way I wanted them. I squinted at the smaller piece. It looked alright, but the large canvas was square, and I didn’t know quite how to crop it down.

“Square canvases,” I said, riffling through the canvases I had left. None of them were perfect squares—I’d used up all of those. I looked at the pieces I’d already done, but it hurt me to think about painting over them.

Then I looked over at the black door.

Storage, he’d said. What if there was a square canvas in there I could use?

No. He’d specifically told me not to go in there. I shook my head and turned back to the painting. I tried a different shade of blue for the background, something a little lighter.

It took a while just to cover up the parts I’d already painted, stepping carefully around the parts that weren’t dry.

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