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“Yes, I think it would be good for you.”
“Uh…” I’m so taken-aback by Alexei’s suggestion that I don’t know how to respond.
I’m not used to people encouraging me like this. Sure, both my father and Zara think I’m talented, but my father has already laid the path of my life out for me, and Zara is realistic, and life as a creative is not sustainable in her eyes.
“I-I’ll think about it.”
“It’s running tonight and it starts in an hour.”
It’s like he hasn’t even heard me.
“Alexei.” I sigh, setting down my paintbrush. “I appreciate you wanting to help but?—”
“This will be good for you, Bianca.” He tucks his phone back into his pocket. “And it’s close by, so I can drive you there myself.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. We leave in thirty minutes. That should give us enough time to sort out the enrollment fees and documents before the class.”
I know I should be excited to be leaving the house for the first time in almost four weeks, but the truth is I’m not. Because once again the terms of such freedom have not been dictated by me.
I’m still a prisoner. Just a prisoner on a leash being driven to what I assume will be an overpriced still-life-painting seminar with a bodyguard who also happens to be my husband.
“I wish you’d let me look through the syllabus before making a decision,” I mutter as Alexei pulls into the parking lot of the arts building.
He was quiet the entire drive over to the campus, and I was too busy sulking to care.
I glance around and notice a few students leaving the building carrying portfolios of their work and cases of supplies. I don’t miss the fact that they glance at Alexei’s car.
He was set on taking some ridiculous supercar, but I refused to get in.
I already feel out of place, and rocking up to class in a car that costs more than the tuition fees made me want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
We compromised on a blacked-out Range Rover which isn’t much better, but the look Alexei was giving me implied that he would throw me over his shoulder and carry me to campus if he had to.
“Sometimes, it’s better to just be pushed,” Alexei says. “So many people become paralyzed by indecision, they never take a step forward.”
“And you assumed I would be like that? I’m not being funny, Alexei, but you don’t know me at all.”
“I know you enough.”
I ball my hands into fists and stare straight ahead, my stomach knotting at the sight of the sign on the front of the building before us.
Queen’s University Art Department.
This has been all I’ve ever wanted, to study art and spend my days painting, so why can’t I be more excited?
Perhaps it’s due to the fact that Alexei Koslov is the one to see me for who I am, and that scares the hell out of me.
The man has barely known me for four weeks, and yet he’s actively going out of his way to nurture my talent.
My eyes start to prick with tears.
This is something my father should have done, but instead, he took this choice away from me too.
“If you’re only doing this out of guilt, then don’t bother.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
“What do you mean?” Alexei unbuckles his seatbelt and turns in his seat to face me, but I keep my eyes forward, not wanting him to see me so upset.
