Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

A riel flitted around the studio, lighting lime and tangerine candles, plumping the sequinned purple cushions on the ruby sofas, and tidying up the evidence of her nerves.

She'd drunk a dozen cups of chamomile tea since calling Cooper this morning to let him know today was as good a time as any to hear his pitch. But now, as she stacked the cups in the dishwasher and made her umpteenth visit to the toilet, she wondered if she'd done the right thing.

‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer' had been one of Barb's favourite sayings so Ariel had taken the plunge and called him, despite her stomach still churning since their almost-kiss last night.

If she'd had her way, she would've never laid eyes on Cooper again but they'd made a deal; he'd upheld his end of the bargain and now it was her turn.

Glancing around the studio, her heart swelled with pride. Sunlight streamed through the soaring windows, filtering through the colourful gauze swaths of chiffon she'd hung from curtain hooks, casting a warm, rainbow over the room. Combined with the refreshing tang of citrus from the aromatherapy candles, and the bright ruby and amethyst colour combination of the furniture against the polished oak boards, the place looked inviting: warm, welcoming, a haven.

Her haven. It had been from the minute she set foot in this room, a scared and starving eight year old who thought she'd stepped into a fairytale treasure cave. The colours had bewitched her, the cosiness had beckoned, and Barb had set her up with an easel and paints like she belonged here.

Thanks to Aunt Barb, that feeling hadn't waned over the years. If anything, it had intensified, to the point she couldn't see herself living and working anywhere else. Colour by Dream s had made all hers come true.

It meant everything to her.

She wanted Cooper to view the studio how she saw it, to feel its ambience, to recognise how much it meant to her.

This wasn't just about her fervent promise to Aunt Barb. This was her home, the only home she'd ever known, and she would fight with everything she had to hold onto it.

The wind chimes over the gallery front door tinkled and Ariel took a deep breath, wondering what made her more nervous: rejecting Cooper's pitch or seeing him so soon after he'd almost made her swoon like the women whose vintage clothes she favoured.

"Ariel?"

"Be right there," she called out, casting one last frantic gaze around the studio and wondering if it was too late to wear her lucky garland.

Though it would clash terribly with her flowing, floral dress cinched at the waist with a crocheted macramé belt, and pink flip-flops. Not that she usually cared, revelling in combining colours, patterns, fabrics, and shoes with creative abandon, but she'd told Cooper about the garland's significance and didn't want him prying further.

Crossing her fingers behind her back that after hearing Cooper's pitch she wouldn't want to tear his eyes out, she pushed through the beaded curtain.

"Right on time." She injected enthusiasm into her voice. "This business meeting must be important to you."

"It is."

Her tone had been light and flippant, his was anything but. Combined with his charcoal designer suit, white shirt, burgundy tie, and an expression that could've frozen ice in Antarctica, he looked ready for business. Serious business.

Ironic, considering she could've sworn he'd had monkey business on his mind when last here.

"Go through to the studio and I'll flip the lunch sign. How long is this going to take?"

"Not long if you're sensible about it."

Ariel's narrow-eyed glare was lost on Cooper as he strode past her and into the studio.

She waited for some recognition of her efforts, some small comment that he appreciated the beauty of the room, but after locking the gallery door, flipping the sign, and heading back into the studio, one look at the grim expression on his handsome face told her she'd prettied up the place for nothing.

He didn't get it.

Not that she should be surprised. Despite the teasing chats, the traded barbs, and the light-hearted banter they'd exchanged, Cooper embodied the cold-hearted businessman she'd labelled him as soon as she'd learned his identity.

He'd dulled her senses with his nice act and foolishly, she'd let him.

"Have a seat," she said, trying to quell the rampaging butterflies in her gut and failing. "Would you like a drink?"

"No thanks."

He barely looked at her, rifling through a huge, scary black folder in his hands before pulling out an equally scary wad of paper.

"If you're planning to bamboozle me with a lot of facts and figures about projections and land values, forget it. Just give me the basics."

She plopped onto one of the sofas, kicked off her flip-flops, and curled her feet under her. Though her insides churned with dread, she needed to present a cool, calm fa?ade, and making herself comfortable was part of that. Maybe she should invite this new, uptight version of Cooper to slip out of his shoes and take a load off too?

She smothered a giggle at the thought.

"I'm glad to see you in such a good mood," he said, shooting her a quizzical look as he perched on the opposite end of the sofa, as far away from her physically as he could get without sliding onto the floor in an undignified heap.

"Let's keep it that way," she said, pasting a confident smile on her face when in reality she desperately needed to make another mad dash to the toilet.

He didn't return her smile. In fact, he didn't do much of anything. His face appeared carved out of granite, his blue eyes cold and flat like Port Phillip Bay on a frigid winter's day.

She'd known he had this side to him. This was probably the real Cooper and the nice side he'd been showing her had been part of his elaborate plan to loosen her up in preparation for this day.

She'd been a fool.

But then again, what had she lost apart from a few nights' sleep while dreaming the most amazing, erotic dreams of her life over a model with a body to die for and an artist who'd turned to sculpting and had her hands all over him?

"So you want the basics?" He asked, his expression grim.

"Uh-huh."

"Okay." He laid down his hefty sheaf of papers on the coffee table in front of them and turned to face her, those chilly, lifeless eyes scaring her more than the pitch she didn't want to hear.

"This gallery is on land that is leased and that lease is coming up for renewal shortly. Apparently, Barbara Vann, who signed the original lease, signed it for twenty-five years and in doing so, effectively gave you control after she passed away."

He took a quick breath and continued. "You have refused previous offers to vacate the property but it will be in your best interest to consider accepting the offer I've set out in the documentation. Otherwise, once the lease runs out, you may find you have no option but to leave with nothing, as the council can re-lease or sell to anyone they please."

Ariel stared at Cooper in growing horror, hearing every cold, callous word he uttered, wishing she didn't understand. However, she did, all too well.

She'd known about the lease being up for renewal shortly but she'd assumed the council would be happy to renegotiate with her. After all, she was a good tenant. She paid her rent on time—mostly. She didn't cause trouble—apart from that one, tiny fire in the storeroom that technically wasn't her fault.

Besides, the council always supported local ventures, encouraging the alternative, hip vibe that made Brunswick Street unique. Big Shot Cooper was just trying to scare her into giving him what he wanted and she wouldn't budge.

She would continue to make Colour by Dreams one of Melbourne's most prominent galleries—if she scraped up enough money over the next few months to pay her skyrocketing overheads—and face the lease renewal when it came up.

"By that horrified look on your face, I'm guessing you're not too keen on the idea."

Ariel tucked her legs tighter and folded her arms, inadequate defence mechanisms against the onslaught of trouble she faced. "Your powers of deduction are amazing. I'm not surprised you're such a shark."

"Don't." Cooper stood abruptly and strode to a window, his gaze fixed on some faraway spot, though what he found so intriguing about the run-down fence, the back neighbour's rusted chimney flue, or the pile of old easels, she'd never know.

"Don't what? Call it how it is? Throw in a little sarcasm to lighten the mood?" She unfolded her legs in one, smooth movement and stood, joining him at the window to gaze out at the tiny, square patch of backyard, the same patch she'd curled up in eighteen years earlier on that freezing winter's night when she'd been so famished, so light-headed, she hadn't been able to take another step. "Come on, you've had your fun, let me have mine."

"This is a business proposal. It's not personal," he said, not turning to acknowledge her, not moving a muscle.

Not personal? She could happily punch him in the nose for that. Everything about this low deal was personal.

Taking away her home? Personal.

Ruining her dreams? Personal.

Making her break a promise to the one woman who had taken a chance on her? Personal.

Destroying her plans to continue Barb's work in fostering local talent and helping street kids like she'd once been? Personal, personal, personal .

Whirling to face him, she grabbed hold of his arm, forcing him to look at her. "You don't get it, do you? Look around. Tell me what you see."

She finally got a reaction out of him, a tiny frown indenting his forehead.

"Do it," she said, tugging on his arm when he didn't move. "Go on, describe what you see."

After a long pause, he turned to face the studio and she released his arm, determinedly ignoring the heat scorching her palm.

"I see a large room. Polished floorboards. Two red sofas. Sparkly cushions. Heaps of art stuff. Curtains made of a fancy material."

His flat, deadpan voice suited his flat, deadpan description perfectly and her heart sank further.

She'd known they were worlds apart with little common ground, but she'd hoped he might have developed some aesthetic sense over the last few weeks, some idea of what how she felt about this place.

She'd been wrong.

About everything.

Including her warped feelings that she might actually like this guy, and once she knocked back his stupid business proposal, they might actually have a chance at being more than friends.

Right now, even friends seemed out of the question, and it hurt more than it should.

"What else do you see?" She urged, giving him one last chance to show her he understood where she was coming from, where she was going.

"Tiny kitchenette, elephant lamps, candles, art magazines." He turned to her, his expectant expression like a pupil expecting praise from a teacher.

Praise? In his case, he'd just scored a big, fat F.

"You would see that," she muttered, turning away from him and crossing the room so he wouldn't see the sudden tears filling her eyes.

She never cried, yet the harder she blinked them away, the more tears swelled in her eyes until they overflowed and ran down her cheeks in pitiful rivulets.

"I'm not sure I understand."

Thankfully, Cooper's voice came from near the windows indicating he hadn't moved.

She didn't want him to see her like this.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

"I didn't think you would," she murmured, holding back the sobs that threatened. "Just go. Leave the proposal. I'll consider it and get back to you."

"But I need an answer—"

"I don't care what you need. Please leave and lock the door behind you."

Her voice quavered and she bit down on her bottom lip, hating him for making her feel this vulnerable, this weak.

"I'll call you," he said, his footsteps echoing on the polished boards as he left the studio, the soft tinkling of the wind chimes an eerie signal to his departure.

"Don't bother," she muttered, dashing an angry hand across her eyes only to find the tears falling faster than before.

Furious at Cooper, furious at her useless tears, and furious at her inability to see a clear way out of this mess, she marched into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle.

A cup of chamomile tea might not soothe her seething soul but it would go a long way to erasing the awful chill that had seeped into her bones at the thought she might lose this place.

And that Cooper didn't give a damn.