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Dinner with Mr. Grumpy.

Penulis: Penrose_love
last update Terakhir Diperbarui: 2024-11-09 08:54:24

CAMILA

^*^

Dinner..

One would think it’d be a pleasant, harmless word. But right now? It felt like a loaded gun.

I stared at myself in the full-length mirror for what felt like forever. My curls were brushed out, soft and falling around my shoulders just the way Claire had styled them earlier. I wore a silk two-piece set in ivory, the shirt loose but showing just enough collarbone to make me feel like bait. And the tight pants clung to me like sin.

Everything in this house made me feel like a very expensive doll.

A doll being watched.

I touched my lips, the soft pink gloss catching in the light. Why did I care what I looked like? Why did I want him to look at me?

I shook the thought away. That was not the mission.

The mission was simple: Survive this house. Collect the money. Save my sister. Escape my toxic life.

The mission was not to start falling into the strange pull of a man who painted women and kept their portraits locked away.

Claire knocked and didn’t wait before pushing the door open. “Breakfast is ready, sweetie! Come now, let’s not keep him waiting!”

Right. Him.

The devil with the voice of silk and the soul of smoke.

I followed her down a narrow hallway that opened into a large dining area. The room was a ridiculous masterpiece. Massive windows spilled golden light across the long, dark wood table. A chandelier glittered above us, swaying slightly. And at the far end of the table, was King.

Lorenzo King Calloway.

He was dressed in another crisp shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms again like it was a uniform. His eyes were down, reading something on a tablet, and for a minute, he didn’t even acknowledge our arrival.

I stood frozen in place until Claire nudged me with a little grin and whispered, “Sit, darling.”

I walked slowly to the chair opposite him and sat. The table had been set immaculately—silverware gleamed, two glasses of orange juice sparkled under the light, and there were enough croissants to feed a damn Parisian bakery.

Still, silence.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t look up.

Didn’t offer me a smile or even a morning grunt.

So I cleared my throat. “Morning.”

He didn’t respond.

My brow twitched. “You know, most people say ‘good morning’ when someone walks in.”

He tapped something on the screen and finally looked up, eyes meeting mine like they were scanning for weakness. “I’m not most people.”

“No,” I muttered, picking up my juice. “You’re really not.”

We ate in silence for a while.

Well, I picked at my food. He ate calculatively, slowly, like each bite was measured and controlled. The tension in the room was so thick you could slice it with the butter knife.

I finally pushed my plate away. “Okay. Look. Are we going to pretend this is normal? You offering me six million dollars to live here and pose for paintings like some modern-day Belle from Beauty and the Beast? Except you’re less ‘Beast’ and more emotionally constipated billionaire?” I kept ranting.

He paused.

Set his fork down.

Wiped his lips with a linen napkin.

Then: “I don’t do small talk, Miss Frost.”

“Clearly.”

“And I don’t owe you warmth. You’re here because of a contract. Nothing more.”

I pouted. “You could at least pretend to be human. You act like letting me eat at your fancy vampire table is a favor.”

His eyes flicked up, colder now. “You signed up for this. If you expected sentiment, you should’ve read the fine print more closely.”

I leaned forward, matching his energy. “You know what I expected? Decency. Not to be grabbed at the door like a damn criminal. Not to be talked down to like I’m an object.”

“Then perhaps you should stop acting like one.”

That stung.

Harder than I wanted it to.

I opened my mouth, ready to unleash the full fury of my past three days, but then something about the way he was looking at me froze my voice.

It wasn’t cruelty.

It wasn’t arrogance.

It was… pain?

But only for a second. Then it was gone.

“Claire will show you the studio today,” he said suddenly, pushing his chair back. “We begin tomorrow.”

“And what if I’m not ready?” I snapped, rising to my feet.

He stopped, just short of turning around. “Then you’ll pretend to be.”

Then he walked out.

Just like that.

I stood there, chest rising and falling with emotion I couldn’t name. Rage. Confusion. Sadness, maybe.

Claire slipped in from the hallway like she’d been listening the whole time. “I Well, that went well,” she said with an annoyingly bright smile.

I scoffed. “Does he treat everyone like that?”

She gave a thoughtful hum. “Only the ones he likes.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

She waved her hand and started clearing the table. “Trust me, darling. If he didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be. The fact that you’re breathing in his space? That’s a privilege.”

“He sure knows how to make a girl feel special,” I muttered.

Claire leaned closer, lowering her voice. “The last girl who raised her voice to him? She was gone by morning.”

My throat tightened. “Gone?”

“Gone,” she confirmed. “Now eat, sweetheart. You’ll need your strength.”

She walked off humming again.

I sat back down.

Suddenly the six million didn’t feel like a prize—it felt like a trap.

And I was already in it.

^*^

Later that evening, I wandered around the house.

Claire had vanished somewhere in the east wing, and the silence in the house felt bigger than before. I found myself walking past the same doors she’d warned me about. The forbidden room was just… there. Plain. Untouched. Almost daring me to enter.

I stopped.

Stared.

What was he hiding?

Paintings of other girls?

Secrets?

Or maybe it was something else entirely.

I reached out, letting my fingers graze the cold, iron handle—just as footsteps came down the hall.

I froze.

Not because I was scared.

But because I knew whose steps those were.

“Don’t.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be.

I turned slowly, finding him standing a few feet behind me. No jacket. Just that same cold gaze and dark presence.

“Curiosity,” he said, “is how people die in horror stories.”

“I’m not scared of horror stories,” I said.

“You should be,” he replied.

We stared at each other for a moment too long.

Then he walked away.

Again.

No explanation.

No threat.

Just… a warning.

I stood there, breathing slow, my heart pounding a rhythm I couldn’t follow.

Tomorrow, the painting began.

Tonight?

Tonight I started to believe that my new life wouldn’t be in any way easy.

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Peaceful sleep.

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Weird dinner time.

    CAMILA *^* "I'd like to make a point..." I started, few mintues after sitting for dinner. After freshening up and sorting myself out, I came down for dinner, expecting to see the visitors, but it was just king. Maybe they weren’t here yet. I was sitting opposite King who still hasn’t spared me an ounce of attention since I came. "Mr. king, I have a few things to lay off about this contract." I said again, this time grabbing his attention as he paused halfway into sticking a piece of beef into his mouth. King raised his head to speak for this first time tonight. "I never thought of you as the type to not acknowledge table manners, Miss Frost." He finished and resumed eating. I rolled my eyes innerly. "Thank you for whatever that means, I just want to clear some thick air here concerning the contract-" "If you're so eager to begin working again, I assure you I wouldn't mind. But I've had a tiring day, and I need rest." He paused, bringing his gaze into mine. "You need re

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Weird happenings.

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   “If you don’t stop digging…”

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   A vulnerable moment.

    CAMILA . . .It was sometime past midnight when I made up my mind.The house was silent except for the soft ticking of the antique grandfather clock downstairs, each tick hammering at my nerves like a countdown to something I wasn’t ready for.I slipped out of bed quietly, pulling on a pair of socks to mute my steps against the marble floors.My heart was thundering so loud in my chest that I was sure someone could hear it through the walls.This was insane.This was stupid.But curiosity burned hotter than fear.I had to know.I crept up the main staircase, wincing at every tiny creak. As I came face to face with the door everyone has warned me not to open, my heart pounded even more louder.I hesitated, my hand hovering just inches from the brass doorknob.‘Don’t do it.’ The voice in my head screamed louder now, but Katherine’s words rang just as strong:“You want the truth? You’ll find it there.”I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath.Then, with trembling fingers, I gripped t

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   A war brewing…

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  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Nightmare.

    CAMILA...The fire was everywhere.Smoke choked my lungs, the walls cracked and blackened. I tried to find my way though the smoke to my mom or dad, but I could barely move because of the smoke and fire.I could hear Ella crying far from me and I struggled to breathe as I moved to her. The heat was unbearable, the roar of the flames louder than any scream I could muster.“Ella!” I screamed at the top of my voice. “Keep talking I’ll get to you!” I coughed in between words but luckily, my sister heard me as she kept screaming for me to locate her.I dragged her and hugged her when I got to her, keeping her close to me and trying so hard to see through the thick flame around us.Everything was burning, every freaking thing.“Mom! Dad!” I shouted, but the only answer was the creaking, crumbling groan of the house falling apart.I tried to run with my sister towards my parents room but something hot and heavy crashed down between us, cutting me off.The last thing I remembered was a pa

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Bab terbaru

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Sweet dreams…?

    KATHERINE...I paced around my room with my phone pressed tightly against my ear, my voice low and furious.“I’m telling you, Camila is ruining everything,” I hissed into the receiver. “She’s a bad egg for the plan. She’s making him… different.”On the other end, my best friend, Sasha, sighed. “Then take matters into your own hands, Kat. Stop waiting around. If you want to win, you have to fight dirty. You know that.”I clenched my jaw, my nails digging into my palm. “I know. I just thought — I thought it would be easier. She’s nothing special, for god’s sake.”“Apparently, he thinks otherwise,” Sasha said, dry and cutting. “Fix it before you lose your chance.”Before I could reply, a sudden, piercing scream tore through the night air and I stiffened.“What was that?” Sasha asked.“I’ll call you back,” I muttered and ended the call without waiting for a reply.I threw the phone onto the bed and hurried out, my heart thundering but not out of concern. No. It was pure, burning curios

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Nightmare.

    CAMILA...The fire was everywhere.Smoke choked my lungs, the walls cracked and blackened. I tried to find my way though the smoke to my mom or dad, but I could barely move because of the smoke and fire.I could hear Ella crying far from me and I struggled to breathe as I moved to her. The heat was unbearable, the roar of the flames louder than any scream I could muster.“Ella!” I screamed at the top of my voice. “Keep talking I’ll get to you!” I coughed in between words but luckily, my sister heard me as she kept screaming for me to locate her.I dragged her and hugged her when I got to her, keeping her close to me and trying so hard to see through the thick flame around us.Everything was burning, every freaking thing.“Mom! Dad!” I shouted, but the only answer was the creaking, crumbling groan of the house falling apart.I tried to run with my sister towards my parents room but something hot and heavy crashed down between us, cutting me off.The last thing I remembered was a pa

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   A war brewing…

    CAMILA...I woke up with the lingering feeling of warmth still pressed against my skin.For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, but then last night came crashing back into my mind.The painting.The apology.The kiss.Oh my freak!He kissed me!My lips tingled at the memory, and I pulled the covers tighter around myself, burying my face into the soft pillow to hide my growing blush — even though there was no one to see it.At some point last night, I must have fallen asleep in the studio, and King… he had brought me here without waking me up.Something about that made my heart ache in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge. I turned to look at the small clock on the bedside table. 10:38AM.“Shit.”I jumped out of bed, scrambling to freshen up and throw on a simple cream top and jeans. I tied my hair into a loose braid and practically sprinted toward the dining area, praying I wasn’t about to get my first official scolding for being late.As I neared the dining room, the smell of butte

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   A vulnerable moment.

    CAMILA . . .It was sometime past midnight when I made up my mind.The house was silent except for the soft ticking of the antique grandfather clock downstairs, each tick hammering at my nerves like a countdown to something I wasn’t ready for.I slipped out of bed quietly, pulling on a pair of socks to mute my steps against the marble floors.My heart was thundering so loud in my chest that I was sure someone could hear it through the walls.This was insane.This was stupid.But curiosity burned hotter than fear.I had to know.I crept up the main staircase, wincing at every tiny creak. As I came face to face with the door everyone has warned me not to open, my heart pounded even more louder.I hesitated, my hand hovering just inches from the brass doorknob.‘Don’t do it.’ The voice in my head screamed louder now, but Katherine’s words rang just as strong:“You want the truth? You’ll find it there.”I closed my eyes and sucked in a breath.Then, with trembling fingers, I gripped t

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   “If you don’t stop digging…”

    CAMILA ... I sat stiffly on the tall wooden stool, trying not to fidget under the heavy gaze of the man in the room. King. The studio was cold, the kind of cold that settled into your bones and made you feel like you were sitting naked even though I had a thin robe wrapped around me. I shifted my shoulders awkwardly, but his voice came fast, low and commanding. “Don’t move.” I froze instantly, swallowing down the shiver creeping up my spine. “Chin slightly higher,” he said, circling me like a predator sizing up its prey. “Relax your fingers. Tilt your head.” His commands were sharp and emotionless. Like I wasn’t a person at all, like I was just a shape to be captured on canvas. I watched him for a moment, the way his brow furrowed as he painted. His hands moved fast, like an expert, as if he’d done this a thousand times. Maybe he had. The silence stretched so long it became unbearable. “King,” I said carefully, “what happened to the girl before me?” He didn’t answer, o

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Weird happenings.

    CAMILA_^_I stood frozen in my room, my bare feet were rooted to the hardwood, my breath was hitching as Katherine’s laugh faded into the fog outside. King’s voice—low, lethal, *“Get behind me”*—was still ringing in my ears, but I couldn’t move, my silver bracelet was clinking faintly as my hands trembled. Someone had been here. In my space. And that laugh—high, wild, hers—had turned my blood to ice.“Camila,” King snapped, his hand was grabbing my wrist, pulling me back from the window. His hazel eyes were blazing, his jaw was clenched tight beneath the stubble, and his heat was seeping into me, grounding me even as my mind spun. “I said get behind me.”I yanked free, my voice was shaking but sharp. “Don’t touch me! What the hell’s going on, King? That was Katherine and someone was in my room. You’re not telling me anything, and I’m done with it!”He stepped closer, his boots were crunching over the glass, his broad shoulders were blocking the window’s light. “I don’t know yet,” he

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Weird dinner time.

    CAMILA *^* "I'd like to make a point..." I started, few mintues after sitting for dinner. After freshening up and sorting myself out, I came down for dinner, expecting to see the visitors, but it was just king. Maybe they weren’t here yet. I was sitting opposite King who still hasn’t spared me an ounce of attention since I came. "Mr. king, I have a few things to lay off about this contract." I said again, this time grabbing his attention as he paused halfway into sticking a piece of beef into his mouth. King raised his head to speak for this first time tonight. "I never thought of you as the type to not acknowledge table manners, Miss Frost." He finished and resumed eating. I rolled my eyes innerly. "Thank you for whatever that means, I just want to clear some thick air here concerning the contract-" "If you're so eager to begin working again, I assure you I wouldn't mind. But I've had a tiring day, and I need rest." He paused, bringing his gaze into mine. "You need re

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   Peaceful sleep.

    King ^*^ I woke up feeling the most peace I’ve had in years. Not just peace in body, still in mind. The kind of peace that felt foreign, like waking up inside someone else’s life. There was no pounding in my skull, no screams clinging to the back of my throat. Just peace. warm and soft through my body, and the quiet chirping bird outside. I hadn’t slept like that in years. I knew that It wasn’t the bed. It Wasn’t the medication I stopped pretending to take. It Wasn’t the damn darkness in my heart. It was her. Painting Camila did something to me. To whatever haunted me. It calmed the noise. She didn’t even know it. And that was the part that scared me the most. My phone buzzed from the dresser. I grabbed it, expecting the usual flood of meaningless messages. Instead, one name flashed across the screen: Leonard. Of course. I answered on the third ring. “Morning, sunshine!” he chirped too loudly that I almost felt dead. I didn’t say anything. Just stared out the window. “Ah

  • The Billionaire Artist's Contract Stripper   First painting.

    CAMILA ^*^ The next morning came too quickly. I barely slept. How could I when every creak of the mansion, every tiny sound in the hall, made me twitch. My dreams were a weird mix of faceless paintings, piercing black eyes, and me drowning in a pool of roses while Claire laughed and danced around me with a tea set. I woke up sweaty, confused, and entirely unprepared for whatever the hell today was supposed to be. Claire knocked on the door with her usual singsong tone. “Rise and shine, my darling blossom! It’s studio day!” Studio day. Yeah, that didn’t sound ominous at all. I didn’t respond. Instead, I rolled out of bed, yanked on a pair of black leggings and a cotton crop top, and tied my hair into a messy ponytail. If I was going to be gawked at like some muse-slash-test subject, I was doing it comfortably unapologetic. Claire met me at the base of the stairs, eyes scanning me from head to toe with disapproval. “No dress?” “No dignity.” She chuckled. “Oh, y

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