Page 14 of Until She's Mine
A busboy clatters dishes nearby, and the sudden noise makes me jump. I force my fingers to still, the torn paper scraps scattering across the table like tiny white flags of surrender.
“It’s nothing. The workload at the gallery’s been heavy.”
Sophie’s eyebrow arches. She’s known me since our freshman year at NYU, when we bonded over all-nighters in the painting studios and cheap wine from bodegas. That eyebrow has called me out on every bad decision, from dating her sculpture professor to getting that ill-advised pixie cut sophomore year.
“Try again, Laurent. And this time, leave out the bullshit.”
A couple at the next table laughs too loudly at something on their phones. I wait until their chatter fades before speaking.
“Lucian gave me a sketch,” I whisper. “Of me. From three years ago.”
Sophie’s spoon clinks sharply against the side of her cup, and her eyes widen. She sets it down slowly. “Wait. Back up. Lucian Blackwood? Your fiancé’s brother? That Lucian?”
I nod.
Lucian has never been a topic of conversation between us. To Sophie, he is simply Tobias’s older and more intelligent brother, frequently mentioned in business pages and society columns. She’s never met him, and I choose not to mention him. Not because I don’t trust her, but because saying his name feels like poking at a wound that shouldn’t be disturbed. But now, with the sketch burning a hole in my bag for five days, I need to tell someone before I lose my mind completely.
“When did this happen?”
“Last week,” I admit, glancing around to ensure no one is listening. “He said nothing, just left it there for me to find. It was... from the first time we met.” My fingers find my necklace, Tobias’s engagement gift, and twist the diamond pendant. “The drawing... Soph, it isn’t just some quick sketch. It’s detailed. Intimate.”
“Intimate how? Like, he drew you naked, or...?”
“No,” I say quickly, my cheeks flushing. “It’s not like that. It’s just... he captured me so precisely. It’s like he’s been watching.”
Am I surprised that he’s been watching? Not really. His eyes follow me at each gathering, cataloging my movements like he’s memorizing me for later study. But seeing it rendered in charcoal and paper, seeing myself through his eyes—that’s different. That’s proof.
“Holy shit.” Sophie sits back, her eyebrows disappearing beneath her bangs. “That’s...”
“Creepy? Disturbing? Completely inappropriate?” I supply, though none of those words capture the way my heart had hammered when I’d seen it, or how I’ve traced those charcoal lines every night since.
“I was going to say kind of hot. In a deeply problematic way.”
“Sophie!”
“What? I’m just saying, the brooding older brother secretly pining for years? Drawing you in his spare time? That’s some soap opera-level drama right there.” Sophie’s voice drops, and her eyes dart around the café as if Lucian might materialize from the shadows. “I’ve heard rumors that Lucian Blackwood is very intense. People say he’s brilliant but ruthless. And he loves mind games. Are you sure this isn’t just some twisted power play? You know, messing with his brother’s fiancée for kicks? Testing you to see how far he can push?”
“Well, he had three years to do something if that were the case,” I say. “But it’s not just the sketch. It’s the way he looks at me, the things he says.”
“How does he look at you?”
I hesitate, my fingers tightening around the emerald pendant. “Like I’m everything he’s ever wanted.”
Sophie’s breath catches audibly. She leans forward. “Ev, this is crazy. You’re engaged to Tobias. You’re planning a wedding—”
“I know.” The words come out sharper than intended, and I soften my tone. “Trust me, I know exactly how insane this is. That’s why I’m sitting here, drowning in overpriced coffee andpretending my biggest concern is whether to use peonies or roses.”
Sophie reaches across the table, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. “Have you told anyone else about this?”
“Who would I tell? Tobias?” I laugh bitterly. “Hey, honey, your brother’s been sketching me for three years, and I can’t stop thinking about him?”
“Fair point.” Sophie releases my wrist and picks up her latte again. “So what are you going to do?”
“Ignore it.” My voice lacks conviction even to my ears. “Focus on the wedding. Pretend it never happened.”
“Right.” Sophie’s tone suggests she believes that about as much as I do. “Because you’re totally the type to just ignore something like this.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she’s right. I’ve never been good at letting things go, especially when they burrow under my skin the way Lucian has.
