Chapter 2

Anna

The stench of sweat, paint, and alcohol drowned me, making me forget that I was breathing. It was at the point of choking that I realized that Christopher was squeezing the air out of my lungs. I coughed and tapped his back as lightly as I could. “Christopher, you’re hurting me!”

He didn’t seem to hear immediately as he kept mumbling inaudibly, and then he loosened his grip on me and stood back a bit. He was close enough that I could feel his warm breath all over my face and see his limpid brown eyes which looked like a child’s. He looked different from what I was used to seeing on TV. He was now thinner, more muscular, and had a thicker beards. Regardless, he was still the drop-dread handsome CEO whose smile would leave every woman swooning.

My heart was still racing because the chain of events had been unexpected. From seeing paintings of myself to being squeezed in a tight hug by Christopher. I wouldn’t have believed it even if a seer had said it.

“You’ve been…painting me?” I asked.

He glanced around the room, then sighed. “I have. For a long while now.”

I was surprised to hear him speak clearly and rationally. The signs of mental instability were there, but he spoke like someone who had some level of sanity. “Why?” I asked. I didn’t think we’d met before and even if we had, I wouldn’t have left such an impact on Christopher that would make him paint me. Honestly, I felt fear crawl up inside me.

Christopher stepped and grabbed a glass that was half-filled with liquor. He took a sip, then gestured at the paintings. “I have nightmares every night. I dream about the night they were taken from me, brutally. I dream…”

I sucked in a deep breath. I knew what he was referring to. More than a year ago, his wife and son had been murdered in an attack at night. That was the beginning of Christopher’s woes, the time he’d become like this. It was said that the loss shattered his mind. Since then, his public appearances and business shows have become a disaster. He fidgeted, talked to himself, laughed alone, and said things in public that made everyone conclude that he was out of his element. He had been on the verge of dragging down the Hanson family.

I knew these and many more because when Dad told me of his plan to marry me off to Christopher, I’d swiftly done my research to add to the little I’d already known about him. They said he painted all day, but did they know he was painting…me?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered because I sensed the edge and sadness in his voice as he spoke.

He waved it aside and went over to pick up the paintbrush that he’d dropped when he’d rushed to come to embrace me. He placed the brush on the table and gestured to the paintings once more. “In those dreams, these are what I see also. In the darkness, a woman is stretching her hand out, offering to rescue me from it all. I wake up trembling and the only thing I can do is paint the hope of salvation.”

He pointed at one painting in particular which showed me standing at the top of a cliff with my hand stretched out to a man who was struggling to hold onto a stone outcropping to stop himself from falling completely over the cliff. The painting had sharp, dark lines and distortions. I wasn’t good at analyzing artworks, but Dad owned a lot of collections so being around the appraisers gave me a little idea.

“And I’m the one you see?” I asked.

He nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I’m not mistaken. I’ve had this dream and other variations of it for almost a year now.”

My heart was still racing and my skin felt stiff; I had nothing but questions. “You knew I was coming today, didn’t you? Was this why you consented to the marriage?”

“Marriage?” Christopher asked, genuinely confused. 

“Oh,” I said, feeling like a fool once again. “You didn’t even know.” Who the heck signed those papers then? My head was spinning now.

“It doesn’t matter. You found me!” he said. The simplicity with which he spoke left my knees weak. I had to get out of there.

“I have to go now…” I said.

“No!” Christopher rushed toward me again and spilled his drink.

When I saw this, I quickly said, “I’m not going away! I want to change…in my room here in the mansion.”

That seemed to put him at ease and he stopped. “You’re staying here? which room?”

I didn’t respond. I backed away and he followed. When I got out, I shut the door and rushed towards Sophia who was still waiting, craning her neck. I wasn’t sure if he heard our exchange in there. She looked shocked to see me all covered in paint.

“Take me to my room. I need a shower.” I said.

“I’m sorry,” she said. I wanted to ask her what she was sorry for, but my mind wasn’t in the right spot. She probably thought that Christopher had done something nasty to me. Oh, if only she knew. If she knew that the shower I wanted wasn’t just to get rid of the paint but to clear my head a little.

As Sophia led the way down the hallway, I glanced back and found Christopher standing by the door to the studio, his eyes fixed on me. I knew he wanted to see which room I’d enter. I kept glancing as I walked till Sophia opened the door to the room I’d be staying in. Christopher watched till I entered.

After Sophia put my things away, I quickly ran myself a hot shower and got into the tub. It was relaxing to the body, but my mind was far from relaxed. I knew this arrangement had just taken a turn to what I hadn’t expected. Not in the least.