Chapter 48

CHAPTER 48

Skye

T he magic of last night carries over to the next day. While I don't see Finn, who's had an early start in his studio, Maddie and I have a wonderful school session. Moving on to a new science unit about the solar system, we've delved into some Greek mythology and constellations. She's obsessed with Pegasus, the winged white horse.

Leaving Maddie with Rosita for her afternoon snack, I get a text from Finn.

Please come to my studio. Need your help. Also want a Maddie progress report.

Surprised, I immediately reply: On my way.

My heart pitter-patters. Despite living here for almost a month, this is the first time I'll set foot in his studio. Something I've so wanted to do. And the timing to give him an update on Maddie's progress is perfect.

Finn's studio is located at the far edge of the property overlooking the ocean. Architecturally magnificent, the two-story structure reminds me of a conservatory. With the outpour of natural light from its high vaulted ceilings, it feels almost spiritual. As if I've just stepped into a crystal cathedral.

Large abstract paintings are stacked against the walls. A few of which I remember Finn painting before my accident, some already boxed up for his show. My eyes circle the vast space. There are shelves filled with vats of paint, various sized brushes, and other supplies... drafting tables with scattered reference books... and a home gym—with a bench press, weights, and other workout equipment, including a trapeze. It's a study in beautiful chaos.

I spot Finn in the southwest corner standing before a tall canvas, a drop cloth covering both the painting and easel it's propped against. His back to me, he doesn't see me. For a few minutes, I silently observe him as he mixes paints on the portable stand next to him and admire his breathtaking virility. He's dressed in low-hung sweats, a black tee, and barefooted.

"Hi," I finally say.

He spins around and smiles. "Scarlet! Thanks for coming."

"Your studio is amazing." Indeed, it's a far cry from the dark, depressing warehouse in decrepit Vernon.

"Thanks. It's one of the things that sold me on this property. The light, the size, the ocean view. The property belonged to some fitness guru who became a monk. This is where he worked out and meditated. It was perfect for me. It has a great sound system and he even left me some of his workout equipment, which I use daily."

My eyes dart again to the workout area, and in my mind's eye, I can picture Finn with his rippled muscles lifting weights, his tattooed biceps bulging. I try to banish the image of his sculpted body glistening with a coat of sweat, but it's impossible.

"You should work out with me sometime. I'll teach you how to use the trapeze."

Imagining swinging on it with me on his lap, I falter for a response. "Sure. Maybe some time when I'm wearing workout clothes."

His eyes roam down my jean-clad body and then he flashes a dazzling smile. "I'll look forward to that."

Heating, I ask him why he needs my help.

"Come here, Scarlet." He motions for me to walk over to him with his long, deft fingers. My heart thudding, I head his way. My eyes never leave him as he flips around and yanks off the drop cloth covering the mysterious canvas, letting it fall to the floor. Then, they practically pop out of their sockets as my heart almost stops. Oh. My. God.

He turns again to face me. "Scarlet, this is my masterpiece. It's called Girl with the Flower Tattoo . I started it years ago—I was going to give it to my late wife on her next birthday—but I stopped working on it after she died. Only recently have I been able to go back to it."

"It's b-beautiful," I stammer, trying impossibly hard to control my emotions and not let him see through them. It's a life-size nude portrait of me—of how I used to look—except instead of chin-length brown hair, the woman, who's looking over her shoulder, now has lustrous auburn hair that cascades over her luminescent flesh and stops at her waist. Just above her right buttock—the one with the flower tattoo. It's exactly like the one on my ass. And his.

"Scarlet, I can't seem to get the contours of her shoulders or backside right. Do you think you could model for me? Your body shape is a lot like hers."

My heart races. The hairs on my body stand on end. "You mean, get naked for you?" Reveal who I really am?

He pauses reflectively, his eyes boring into mine. I swear he's mentally undressing me. Or seeing through my clothes. And I'm doing the same with him. Temptation gnaws at me, my body growing feverish with need and desire as I decide whether to placate him. Or run away as fast I can.

He senses my distress. "If it makes you more comfortable, you can keep your undergarments on. I won't look while you undress. When your clothes are off, I want you to pose like the subject in the painting... over there." He points to a spot not far from the easel.

I hesitate. What if he sees my tattoo? Or my scars. I anxiously bite down on my lip. "Is this painting going to be featured in your show?"

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking of holding on to it. Maybe, one day giving it to a museum." He pauses again. "Scarlet, if you're uncomfortable, I understand and we can just chat about Maddie's progress for a few minutes."

"No, Finn, I'll do it." With all my heart, I want to help this beautiful man—my husband, the devoted father of my child—achieve his dream of greatness. Moving to the location where he wants me, I face a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Pacific, and with my back to him, I pull my top over my head, letting it drop to the floor. I'm not wearing a bra. Feeling Finn's traitorous eyes on me, I kick off my Vans and slide down my jeans until I can step out of them. All that remains is a pair of skimpy lace panties that barely hide the tattoo. My body trembles. So much of me wants to yank down the bikinis. Reveal the tattoo to him. Finally end this masquerade.

Finn's voice: "Good, Scarlet. Now look over your shoulder at me."

My back still to him, I do as he asks and meet his penetrating gaze. The eyes of an artist. Expecting him to pick up a paintbrush, he instead lopes up to me.

"I need to fix something." Gently, he pulls my ponytail out of the elastic, and as my long hair falls down my back, he styles it so it's draping over one shoulder just like in the painting. His fingers graze my flesh and I shiver with desire. A desire so great it shakes me.

His eyes on fire, he steps back and studies me. "Scarlet, you're absolutely perfect."

To my relief, he hasn't noticed the scars scattered on the front side of my body. I twitch a nervous smile. Feel my bare breasts quiver. And watch him jog back to the canvas. Before starting to paint, he picks up a remote and music fills the space. The Boss. "Brilliant Disguise," an early Springsteen song that couldn't be more fitting. More unnerving. And I wonder, more deliberate.

"Relax, Scarlet." He selects a paintbrush, and dipping it into a can of pigment, he puts it to the canvas, his intense eyes on me. My gaze meets his and I feel even more naked and exposed than I already am. So connected to this man. So full of lust and love. Getting into a groove, he begins to sing along with his music idol, his gravelly voice every bit as good as the rock star's. With each brush stroke, his eyes still burning into mine as he belts out the refrain. In my mind, I sing back, desperation in each silent word:

Yes, it's me, baby. Look in my eyes. It's just a brilliant disguise.

I'm your wife . . . Skye.

The girl in your painting with the flower tattoo.

My heart is aching. Breaking. I want to scream out to him who I really am. I want him to take me in his arms, devour me with his lips, and make love to me. Anywhere. Everywhere. Against a wall. On a drafting table. On the floor. Just like we used to.

Suddenly, his phone rings. He turns down the volume of the music and pulls it out from a pocket. He curses under his breath as he looks down at the caller ID. Putting the phone to his ear, his face tenses.

"Shit! I'll be there as soon as I can."

He shoves the phone back into his pocket and flings the paintbrush on the stand without cleaning it.

"Scarlet, I've got to split."

"Is everything okay?" My mind instantly jumps to Maddie's well-being. My pulse spikes.

"I have an emergency. I've got to pick up Kayla and meet with the dickheads who printed the catalogue for the opening. They screwed it up with all the wrong images, and it's supposed to be going out to five hundred people tomorrow. Maybe, we can work together later if I don't get back too late."

My heart plummets to my stomach; my face falls. I can't mask my disappointment. "I understand. You should go."

As he hastily tidies up, I throw on my clothes. As I pull my top over my head, I look down and gasp. My gold locket with the photo of Finn, Maddie, and me is missing! I frantically look all around me. It's nowhere in sight. Despair sets in with the force of a wrecking ball. Maybe it fell off in the house. Or on my way here. Or maybe worse, on the beach last night! It's been my lifeline to my family and my sanity—my lucky charm—and now it's gone!

Panic grips me. I feel sick to my stomach. My heart racing, I dash out of the studio, hoping to retrace my steps.

"Scarlet! Wait! What's the matter?"

Finn.

I don't stop to answer him. My fate is at stake.