I can't believe I'm down with a fever on my Birthday. I was supposed to upload three chapters today but this is honestly all I could manage. Thank you for reading! And for your gifts, in advance lol! Please leave a review, a vote, a gift. It would really make my already shitty birthday less shitty. Thank you❤
AMELIAAs Roman and I stood in the foyer, I couldn't help but feel excitement inside me. The matching outfits, which had seemed like such a playful idea earlier, now felt like a statement - one I wasn't entirely sure I was ready to make. But looking at Roman, tall and handsome in his perfectly tailored suit, I couldn't bring myself to regret it."Shall we?" Roman asked, offering me his arm with a smile that made my heart skip a few beatsI nodded, linking my arm through his. "Let's go wow them with our impeccable fashion sense," I joked, trying to lighten the mood and calm my nerves.As we made our way to the front door, Colson appeared, looking slightly frazzled but managing a professional smile. "The car is ready, Mr. Wellington," he reported, if I didn't know any better, I would've said he was glaring at Roman. He then handed Roman a set of keys."Thank you, Colson," Roman replied, his voice warm and sarcastic. "And thank you for all your hard work today. I hope you can get some re
AMELIA As Roman and I approached the gallery entrance, my heart was pounding so loudly I was sure everyone around us could hear it. The nerves I'd been trying to keep at bay all evening came rushing back in full force. But before I could spiral too far into my anxiety, a familiar voice cut through the noise of the gathering crowd. "Amelia! Roman! Over here!" I looked up to see Vincent waving enthusiastically from the top of the gallery steps. His face was lit up with a broad smile, his eyes twinkling with excitement even from this distance. Despite my nerves, I couldn't help but smile back. Vincent's enthusiasm had always been infectious. He looked good, in his navy blue suit that did nothing to make him look professional but rather a laid back art dealer looking for his next best painting. His hair looked like he didn't even make an effort yet he still managed to look…Vincenty. As we made our way up the steps, I felt Roman's hand on the small of my back, a gentle, reassuring pr
I nodded, suddenly feeling a strange mix of terror and exhilaration. As we approached the crowd, I found myself studying my own work with new eyes, trying to see it as these strangers did.After years of being told by my father that my love for painting was just me throwing my head up in the clouds, me making another excuse to be useless in the family…seeing this, seeing what I had done out of a basement which I had begged for. It was…words couldn't describe it. The painting was large, spanning nearly the entire wall. At first glance, it appeared to be an abstract explosion of color – swirls of deep blues and purples intermingling with bursts of fiery reds and oranges. But as you looked closer, shapes began to emerge from the chaos. Here, the curve of a woman's back. There, the silhouette of a cityscape. And woven throughout, barely perceptible unless you knew to look for them, were words and phrases, worked into the very texture of the paint.It was a piece born of my jumbled memor
I thought back to the young woman I had been when I first started this painting, lost and confused and angry, grappling with the fractured pieces of a life I could no longer fully remember. And now, standing here in this beautiful space, with Roman by my side and a future full of possibilities stretching out before me, I felt a profound sense of achievement. This…was something I had agreed on and decided on a whim, because I needed an outlet. Now it had become… As I turned to look at Roman, seeing the clear pride and admiration shining in his eyes, I realized that this night, this moment, was well deserved, the woman I was felt content, overjoyed just looking at him, looking at the painting,looking at the crowd.“Do you think I can do this professionally?” I lifted a brow and whispered, I had meant it as a joke, but noticed that both Vincent and Roman took my question seriously and nodded firmly. “Definitely!” Vincent agreed. The sound of approaching footsteps drew my attention b
I should? Would my mother be proud of me if she saw me now? How long has it been since I've felt this…happy.I felt my eyes water, despite how hard I tried to stop it. I could not help the emotions that threatened to spill. Before I could respond, Vincent cleared his throat, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Well, now that the initial excitement has died down, how about we go explore the rest of the gallery?" he suggested, his gaze flickering briefly between Roman and me. "There are some other amazing pieces I think you'll both enjoy."Roman nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "That sounds like a good idea," he said. Then, with a slight hesitation, he added, "Actually, if it's alright with you, Amelia, I think I'd like to take a look around on my own for a bit. We can regroup later?"I couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought of being separated from him, but I quickly pushed it aside, offering him a reassuring smile. "Of course, Roman. Take your time. Vince
Alexander.He stood there, mere inches away from me, a slow grin stretching across his face. I couldn't help but notice the bruise on his lip, a stark contrast against his pale skin. For a moment, I was transported back to his empty house in LA, the days I had spent locked up in there, awaiting my fate. The memory of fear and desperation washed over me, threatening to pull me under.I never imagined I would be face to face with him again yet, here I was. "W-what are you doing here?" I managed to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. My body trembled, and I felt myself take an involuntary step backward, desperate to put some distance between us.Why was he here? How did he find me? Is he here to take me again? Where's Roman? I looked around, eyes probably wide with panic, we were in a corner that barely anyone reached. Before Alexander could respond, Vincent was suddenly at my side, his presence solid as his arm went around my shoulder. I hadn't even noticed him approach,
AMELIAThe sound of flesh meeting flesh echoed in my ears as Roman's fist connected with Alexander's jaw. Time seemed to slow down as I watched Alexander stumble backward, his hand flying to his face. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I tried to process what had just happened.As the initial shock began to wear off, I found myself studying Roman more closely. It was then that I noticed the bruises marring his handsome face - a small cut above his eyebrow, a darkening bruise on his cheekbone. That was when I realized they had fought before. This wasn't their first confrontation of the night.Thankfully, we were tucked away in a corner of the gallery, hidden from the main crowd by a large sculpture. No one seemed to have noticed the commotion, the chatter and clinking of glasses continuing in the main room.Alexander regained his footing, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he straightened up. He ran his tongue over his newly split lip, his green eyes
The drive back to Roman's mansion was tense, the silence in the car was by far the most uncomfortable I've ever had to endure. Roman and I sat in the backseat, my eyes were fixed on the road ahead, while Alexander drove and seemed to enjoy the silence, his presence a constant reminder of the bombshell he had dropped. Roman's knuckles were white on his knees, and he looked out the window, his jaw clenched so tight I feared he might crack a tooth. As we pulled up at the mansion, I noticed the absence of the usual bustling activity. The windows were dark, no warm light spilling out. It seemed the maids had clocked out for the day. A fleeting thought crossed my mind, perhaps Trenton was still back at the gallery, though we hadn't run into him on our way out. I silently hoped he would enjoy his time there more than I did. The car came to a stop, and for a moment, none of us moved. It was as if we were all waiting for someone else to make the first move, to break the fragile silence that