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My brush strokes grow more fluid as I allow the image to come alive in my mind’s eye. My little fox. I could paint her in a million different poses, a thousand varied angles. Perhaps now she’ll finally let me paint her nude. It’s just what she needs to boost her self-confidence, to see the magnificent woman I see every time I look at her.
If only I could divert more resources to finding Jasper. That man’s been a thorn at my side for far too long. Perhaps now that things quiet down with the Kings, I’ll finally be able to nail down the bastard. My fingers curl around the wooden handle of the brush as I imagine crushing that asshole’s windpipe.
The vibration of my phone from across the room jolts me from the dark musings. My jacket hanging from the hook on the wall shakes from the steady pulsation. I contemplate ignoring it, but it continues incessantly. With a growl, I wipe my hands on an old rag and stomp toward the sound.
Yanking my phone from the pocket, I stare at the slew of messages on the screen.
Marco: Answer me, bastardo.
Marco: I need to get back into the penthouse.
Marco: I don’t have any clothes.
Marco: Come on.
Marco: At least send my stuff down. I’m in room 4563. I’m sorry I messed around with Maisy, okay? I had no idea you really felt something for her.
I hiss out a curse as the texts continue to populate, one after another. His tone is getting more desperate with each one. Shaking my head, I punch out a response before he destroys my Zen for good.
Me: I’ll have Blanca drop something off to your room tomorrow. Now leave me alone or I’ll make this living situation permanent.
Marco: You wouldn’t.
Me: I most definitely would. As a matter of fact, I suggest you start looking for your own place as the penthouse will be a bit too crowded with three.
Marco: You’re going to ask Maisy to live with you?
Me: I’m not some silly teenager asking her on a date. I want Maisy in my life forever.
Marco: Damn…
Me: Goodnight, brother.
Turning off my phone, I slide it back into my jacket pocket and stalk back to my easel. Now I only hope my muse will resurface after the unforeseen irritation of my brother. At least, our exchange has made something clear: I want Maisy to stay here permanently. Something we’ll have to discuss once she is fully healed from the concussion. Luckily for me, I have two weeks before she’ll have to return to work in person.
I set my brush against the canvas, and the strokes return naturally as the paint brings Maisy’s radiant form to life. Cazzo, how had I managed to capture the heart of this pure woman?
The click of the door handle turning sends my head spinning over my shoulder. It opens a crack, and Maisy peeks through the opening. My heart expands simply at the sight of her, dancing a happy jig.
“You’re home,” she murmurs, her voice raspy from sleep.
“I am.”
She eyes my bare chest, then her hooded gaze lowers to my boxer briefs. “And painting practically naked?” The hint of a smile graces her lips.
“What can I say? When the muse strikes, she will not be denied.”
She gently pushes the door open and creeps into the studio, her gaze traveling to every nook, every painting along the walls. “They’re beautiful, Nico.” She eyes them each, almost reverently. “Why is this the first I’ve seen of this room?”
“I like to keep my paintings private.” Her lips pinch, and I realize I’ve said something wrong. “But not from you. Not anymore.” I extend my hand, and an unexpected swirl of anxiety fills my chest. I’ve never allowed anyone unfettered access to my studio, my collection, my heart. “Come, sit with me.”
CHAPTER 36
MY GREATEST WORK
Maisy
I settle into Nico’s lap, still unable to tear my gaze from the magnificent canvases lining the space. Each one is beautiful and unique in its own right, some colorful, sprawling landscapes, other quiet, tense portraits and so many of me.
