Page 165 of King of Pain
I half laugh and half grumble as I lean in and tell Deacon we won't be long.
He gives a lazy wave. “I’ll be right here.”
Inside, the gallery is buzzing with prep work, white canvas being rolled out across walls for the upcoming exhibit. My intern hours are Monday to Thursday, so I’m off today. Liz sees me immediately—then notices I have someone with me—and heads our way.
Her eyes narrow as she approaches, recognition flickering.
Shit.
“You’re Anthony.” It’s not a question.
Ant glances at me, confused. “Have we met?”
“No,” she says, turning to me with a knowing smirk. “But I’ve seen... a lot of you.”
Ant’s cheeks pinken, and I clear my throat. “Liz, this ishim.”
“Well damn,” she murmurs, offering him a hand. “You weren’t exaggerating, Chance.”
“I—what did he tell you?” Ant says, looking mildly panicked.
Liz just winks. “Not nearly enough. It's not hard to see why you're his muse.”
Ant shifts on his feet.
“I, uh—Liz wanted to see my work, so she stopped by Monday,” I explain.
Liz hums, looking Ant over. “I have to say, I wasn't sure the inspiration could live up to the art, but you're even better in person.”
Ant laughs nervously. “Thanks—I think.”
Liz eyes me expectantly. “Have you asked him yet?”
Ant looks to me and I shift with unease, heat crawling up my neck. “Uh, we’re just barely reconnecting. It’s a little early to mention.”
Liz places a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Ant looks at me softly. “It’s okay. What is it, Chance?”
Looking down at my shoes, I rip the band aid off. “Liz asked if she could show my paintings in an exhibit for the gallery.”
I look up when Ant doesn’t respond. I can’t read his expression.
Fuck.
“I told her I wouldn’t do it unless you agreed. It would be your face on display, after all.”
Ant steps closer, places his hands on either side of my arms and squeezes. His lips turn up in the slightest smile. “I think you should do it.”
I search his eyes for uncertainty, but all I find is a heart-stopping mix of confidence and affection. “Are you sure?” I ask. Because I need him to be.
He squeezes my arms again. “Yes. They’re beautiful and your talent should be celebrated.”
I sag in relief. “Okay,” I tell him. “But you can change your mind at any time.”
Ant hits me with a crooked smile and shrugs. “I won’t. Everyone needs to see howgorrrgeousyou think I am.” And then the little fucker bats his eyelashes at me.
See? Brat.
