Page 6 of His Dark Desires

"We hide behind screens," I echo her earlier point, watching her reaction.

"Exactly. Everything's filtered through something else." She turns to face me fully. "Sometimes I wonder if we even know how to be direct anymore."

The irony of her words hits me like a physical blow. Mara shifts behind me—a subtle warning.

"Your work suggests otherwise," I say, modulating my tone. "There's nothing filtered about it."

"That's kind of you to say." A slight flush colors her cheeks. "Though honestly, sometimes I worry it's too much emotion."

"Never worry about that," I say firmly.

Her eyes widen slightly. "You sound like you speak from experience."

"In my field, passion drives innovation." I smooth over the moment with practiced ease. "Without it, we'd never push boundaries."

"And what boundaries are you pushing, Mr. Vale?"

The question catches me off guard—she's more direct than I anticipated. Before I can respond, Mara shifts beside me, a subtle reminder to stay on script. I clear my throat.

"I'm glad you asked. I have a proposition for you, Ms. Larkin. My company is exploring the intersection of humanity and artificial intelligence. Your perspective would be... invaluable."

"A commission?" Her fingers twist together.

"A series exploring emotional landscapes through both traditional and technological elements. You'd have complete creative freedom, of course." I keep my tone casual, though my heart pounds. "The compensation would be substantial."

Sophia glances at her surrounding work. I know she's struggling to make rent this month. I've watched her check her bank balance repeatedly.

"I... I'd need to know more details."

"Of course." I withdraw my card—matte black, embossed with just my name and number. "Take time to consider it. Though I should mention the anonymous buyer who purchased your three largest pieces tonight is also quite interested in your future work."

Her eyes widen slightly. I fight back a smile.

"I'll think about it," she says, accepting my card with slightly trembling fingers.

"That's all I ask."

I step back, relishing how her eyes track my movements, and with a last lingering look, I turn and walk away.

I stride through the gallery, Mara behind me as I weave between clusters of patrons. My fingers still tingle from where they brushed Sophia's hand.

"That went well," Mara says once we're out of earshot.

I pause before a smaller piece—one I watched Sophia paint at 3 in the morning last Tuesday. The brushstrokes are almost violent, revealing the frustration she felt that night.

"She's more..." I search for the right word.

"Real?"

I shoot Mara a sharp look.

"Just saying. Screens don't capture everything," she explains.

The exit beckons, but I can't resist one last glance over my shoulder. Sophia stands exactly where we left her, studying my business card with an intensity I've seen her direct at blank canvases. She bites her lower lip—a habit I've documented countless times through surveillance feeds but never truly appreciated until now.

"She'll call," I say, pushing through the gallery doors. "She has no choice."

Chapter 2

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