Chapter 25

25

" W hat in the haunted happenings happened to your face?" Billy yells at full blast, practically across the studio, so naturally every head turns in unison to take me in. I guess my makeup didn't do the trick. The problem with bruises? They get uglier before they get better.

Today I'm like a dark bluish-purple with some tints of green to it, and because gravity is a motherfucker, this bruise goes practically all the way down to my chin.

"Hi, Billy!" I wave. He's not amused.

With his lips pursed, he marches across the studio and grabs my shoulders. "Did he do this to you?"

"Who?"

"Your hot boss."

I laugh and then laugh again. "No. He did the stitches, though. I was in a car accident."

I don't mention Claude. First, his name is known. He's a famous, world-renowned artist like my mother is. Second, while I consider Billy my friend, we're not that close yet. Our gossip and chit-chat are mostly superficial.

Billy takes my arm and walks me toward my space. "Are you okay?" he asks in a low voice. "Like for real?"

I smile at him, deeply touched by his concern. "Yes. For real, I'm okay. It looks a lot worse than it is."

Owen ordered me a new car that he said is being delivered later today. When I fretted over this, he told me the other driver's insurance took care of it quickly. There were cameras in the intersection that caught him speeding right through the red. Plus, we're talking about Owen Fritz here, and I doubt the insurance company wanted any part of that more than there already is.

Our accident made the news, after all, but seems to have died down quickly.

"Damn, girly. It's a nasty bruise despite the coverup." He tsks, shaking his head as we reach my area and I uncover the painting I have been working on. I go over to the sink to fill up a pail with soapy water. "What was it like having the hot doctor's hands all over you?"

The pail drops out of my hand and lands with a loud clank in the sink, soapy water splashing up and landing all over my face and chest. I sputter and then choke out a laugh. Only me, I swear. Shutting off the water, I grab some paper towels from the roll beside the sink and wipe my face and chest down.

Gross.

And there goes my bad makeup job. Ugh.

I turn my head slowly to find Billy giving me a look. "What? It slipped."

"Uh-huh. And that blush? Those things just form on their own for you too?"

Shit. I hadn't realized I was blushing. Probably because I couldn't feel the heat under all this damn cold water.

"It's nothing."

"Oh, honey, it's something. And I can't wait to hear every last sordid, forbidden detail of?— "

"Estlin?"

Immediately, I freeze at the voice cutting Billy off. I spin in a slow circle, my heart already hammering in my chest. What the fuck is he doing here? And how did he find me?

Billy's eyes are wide as he takes in Claude standing on the edge of my space, his dark eyes scrutinizing my canvas in a way that's more than just a little familiar. My instinct is to cover it up, but I won't hide from him. I'm proud of my work.

"What are you doing here?" I snap and then shake my head, only to repeat the question in French.

Billy takes a protective step in my direction, noting the alarm on my face and in my voice. Claude notes this too and doesn't like any of it.

"Is he your lover?"

I want to laugh at that, but I don't. "That's a rich question coming from you."

He sighs, his gaze roving all over my face. "I saw the accident on the news. Are you all right? It was my fault, yes? I caused you to be upset."

"Estlin, do you want me to ask him to leave?"

"Excuse me." Claude transitions to accented English. "My manners." He extends his hand to Billy. "I'm Claude Morceaux, Estlin's former lover and mentor."

What a pompous jerk. I can't believe I used to swoon and simper at his feet like he was the god he thinks he is.

Billy does a slow blink, clearly recognizing the name, before he turns back to me. He lingers for a beat on my face and then returns to Claude without extending his hand. "How fabulous for you, but this is still a private business, and we protect our clientele."

Oh, Billy. I love you so much.

Claude's jaw tics at the brush off, and his hand drops to his side. He doesn't like it when people don't bow and kiss his ring. He narrows his eyes before turning and facing me once more, switching back to French. "Estlin, my love, can we please go somewhere and speak without distractions and useless people interfering? I mean you no harm. You know that. We can stay somewhere public if you prefer."

I sigh. And realize I'm truly not afraid of him. He no longer has power over me. But that doesn't make me stupid, either.

"Billy, would you mind giving me a few minutes alone with him?" I look Billy straight in the eyes to let him know it's okay.

"Sure. But I'll be right over there." He points to the center, an open space that has chairs, tables, and picnic benches.

"That's perfect."

Billy gives me a kiss on the cheek, glares at Claude as if to say if you try something I will fuck you up , and then moves about five feet away. It doesn't matter. He won't understand us anyway.

"What do you want, Claude? Why won't you go?" I ask and then turn my back dismissively on him as I refill the pail with more soapy water so I can get my brushes squared away. He needs to know he no longer holds my attention.

Claude moves closer to me, and I hear Billy clear his voice loudly. The sharp sound makes Claude stop in his tracks and curse under his breath. I hold in my snicker.

"This is not the place for this conversation."

"Tough shit. I don't owe you anything, let alone a private chat, simply because you want it."

"Fine. We'll speak here. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. About everything."

His tone catches my attention, and I stop what I'm doing and face him, leaning my back against the edge of the sink and folding my arms.

"I was… selfish and immature." He heads over to my canvas that is still very much a work in progress. He pans a hand toward it. "Your work was growing, and I knew the second it was discovered, you'd take off and leave me behind in your du st. I was jealous. I needed that showing to do very well, and I…" His face dips toward the floor in shame, his hands going to his hips. "I did whatever I could to secure that."

"Like sleeping with that woman."

He nods, finally fucking admitting it.

"Like saying awful things about me, my body, and my work."

Another nod, though neither of these were posed as questions.

"Like claiming my work was yours and then destroying it."

His face slowly rises, remorse lining his features. "Yes. I did all those things. Every last deplorable, unforgivable one. And then I chased you out the door in a rage that still makes me cringe when I think about it. I never would have hurt you, my love. Not ever. Your face that night has been burned into my mind for the last nine months, and then when I saw your fear the other night…" He shakes his head, his eyes clouding over with emotion. "Never have I felt such guilt and self-loathing."

Huh. This is not at all where I thought this conversation was going to go. I was expecting more of the , I know where you live and what you're doing bullshit.

"I'm glad," I tell him plainly. "Because until I moved back here, those months were hell for me. It took me a long time after what you did to get myself right again, but part of that was on me. I gave you too much of myself while accepting too little in return."

He winces again, his hands going to the back of his head, and he nods slowly. " Oui . Yes, this is true. If it helps, I have been nothing without you these nine months. I haven't been able to work. I don't sleep well. I miss you, and I regret everything I've done. You were an angel, my darling. The piece that kept me intact."

I shake my head, my hands gripping the sink behind me. That makes me so angry, and he'd never understand why because he's a taker and not a giver. Or, hell, even an equal participant. That's what he's doing here. He feels like shit and wants me to make him feel better. This isn't about me, it's about him.

As it's always been.

"I can't and won't be that piece for you again. Being that piece for you meant that I allowed you to take those pieces from me. More than that, I don't want to go back. I've moved on. I'm happy now."

His expression falls along with his hands by his sides. Did he truly think I'd go back to him? Is he that arrogant? I almost laugh. The answer is yes and always has been.

"So this is it then?"

I nod resolutely. "Yes. I wish you the best, Claude, and I appreciate your apology. What you did was wrong, but I think I forgive you. If you hadn't done that, I might never have left, and I wouldn't be standing here so tall on my own two feet. I would have stayed in your shadow, and that was a very dark place to be."

A swell of pride washes over me. It's true. Every word I just said to him. Evidently, I needed this level of closure because now I feel calm. Whole. Like he had still been holding onto a few of those remaining pieces all this time, and now with his apology, I finally have them back.

But more than that, I'm the woman I was always meant to be.

The one I've always wanted to be.

He crosses the space, ignoring Billy's noise, and cups my face in his hands. "I will always love you, my darling. Thank you for the wonderful years you gave me. I look forward to seeing your art everywhere." He leans in and kisses each of my cheeks and then my lips before I can stop him, only to pull back just as quickly. A wan smile splits his lips as he looks at me one last time and leaves .

I blow out a breath only to suck one immediately back in. Owen is standing on the other side of the picnic benches, his expression hard like I've never seen it before. Shit. He saw Claude kiss me goodbye. And he's seriously not happy about it.

"Well, it doesn't look like you'll be getting any work done today," Billy quips, and if my heart wasn't thundering so hard in my chest, I'd laugh.

"It seems not."

"Hi, I'm Billy Williams. Please no comment on the redundancy of my name." He holds his hand out to Owen, who shakes it.

"Owen Fritz."

Billy nods, and I wonder if he knew this all along and never said anything.

Satisfied with Owen's response, Billy comes over to me. "Go ahead. I'll cover your canvas back up and clean up the water for you."

I force my gaze away from Owen. "Thank you. You're an amazing friend." I give Billy a hug.

"Honey, I work for gossip and details, and now you owe me a lot."

A snicker creeps out of the back of my throat. "Promise."

I grab my bag, throw it over my shoulder, and head over to Owen. I want to reach out and take his hand, but I can't, and I don't even attempt it.

"Hi," I say in a soft voice. "What are you doing here?"

He had the day off today, but I didn't expect him to come by.

"Katy took Rory to the science museum for the afternoon, and I was going to play in my hockey league. I brought your car for you. I was going to drop it off, but…"

But then he saw me with Claude.

And yeah, he's not happy with me at all.

"Thank you. I'm glad you're here."

"Are you?" he bites out, squinting accusingly at me, only to catch himself, turn, and walk toward the exit of the studio. I follow after him, because there is no way I'm letting him leave like this. "Goddammit, Estlin. You make me feel like a fucking hot-headed college kid."

I laugh. I don't know why, but I love that.

His head rolls over his shoulder, catching my eye. He pushes up the bridge of his glasses—his universal I'm pissed move—and glares. We stop in the empty foyer between the gallery and the studio. "You think this is funny? I'm not a jealous guy, but you make me insane with jealousy. He gets to talk to you. He gets to look at you. He gets to fucking touch you, and I can't."

"What do you want me to do? You're my boss, my brother's best friend, and your sister is my friend. This is so much more than complicated. It can't happen. Not like this."

"It's already happening because we can't stop it. After all that asshole did to you, after what happened two nights ago, you let him fucking kiss you? Do you know how badly I wanted to chase after him and rearrange his face? Do you know all the things I was going to do to make sure he'd never hurt you again?"

He spins around and shoves open the door, stepping out into the cool, sunny afternoon. Parked by the curb is my new car, identical to the last one. I stop us. "But you didn't."

"No," he barks, unlocking the car and opening the passenger side door for me. "Of course I didn't. I'm Owen Fucking Fritz. I'm a pediatric surgeon, but more importantly, I have a daughter who doesn't need her father getting arrested. Trust me, if it weren't for her, he'd be dead. Now get in the car."

Is it bad that I love this side of him? This jealous, riled-up, take-charge side?

Dutifully, I climb into the passenger's side, and he closes the door behind me as I get my seat belt on. He got coffee-colored leather this time, and I like it a lot more than the black we had last time.

He climbs into the driver's seat and slams his door shut. Before I can open my mouth or say anything else, he grabs my face and crashes his lips against mine. I gasp into him, my hands covering his. Immediately, his tongue plunges into my mouth, and he kisses me good and hard, a punishment, before he tears himself away.

My face heats, and I turn toward the windows, but they're darkly tinted, and no one on the sidewalk seems to be looking into the car.

"What the fuck was he doing there, Estlin?"

I take Owen's hand and bring it onto my lap, twining our fingers and holding it tight. "He came to apologize. It was closure and goodbye and nothing more."

"And the kiss?"

I shrug, trying not to smile. "He's French, Owen. They do that. I didn't want it, and he didn't exactly ask for permission before taking it. But it was goodbye. I promise."

"You don't want to be with him?"

My already thundering heart goes haywire. I nibble on my lip and stare down at our joined hands. "No. I don't."

He takes his other hand and lifts my chin until I meet his eyes again. "Tell me the truth."

I swallow impossibly hard and repeat the words he said to me last night, even if they terrify me to say. "I only want you."

After the sex on his couch in his man cave, we went back up to his room and showered together. He took me in there again, only slower and sweeter, and then he forced me into his bed, waking me with kisses when his alarm went off early. With regret in his eyes, he walked me down the hall to my room and then went to work out.

I don't know what's happening, but it's already a lot.

"Owen, I don't know what you meant when you said you were going to do stuff to make sure he'd never hurt me again, but I don't want you to risk anything for that. He's gone from my life, and I forgive him. If he hadn't done everything he did, I wouldn't be here with you. I wouldn't be the artist or woman I'm starting to become."

The only remaining regret I have is that he destroyed my work.

He blinks at me, surprised. After a beat, he licks his lips and glances out the windshield. "I started something I don't think I'll ever be able to undo. There might never be a time when I don't want you." He looks back at me. "What are we going to do about all of this?"

I shake my head, at a loss. "I honestly don't know."

"I want you as mine."

"And I want to be yours."

A smile tilts up the corners of his lips, making his dimples pop, and his blue eyes sparkle behind the lenses of his glasses. Fuck, I've got it bad for him. Like, I'm totally and completely gone on him.

"But it's still new, and I'm not ready to get other people involved in it."

His gaze flickers back and forth between mine. "You want to keep this a secret."

It's not a question, but I nod anyway. "For now. Between our families, there's a lot at stake for us."

He knows I'm right. The amount of tumult, pressure, and scrutiny that would be thrown at us would be unreal. It could tear us apart before we even begin.

"All right," he says slowly in a low tone. "We'll stay a secret, and the rest we'll figure out as we go."