Page 21 of His to Possess
As I stayed frozen in my spot, Rex turned to glance at me for just a moment. He didn't have to say a single word, the look he gave me said it all. I snapped out of it quickly, forcing my feet to move and rushing to catch up with him as he walked ahead through the endless, polished halls. His taste in interior design was clearly minimalistic, clean lines, sleek furniture, and very few decorative items. The ones that were there were mostly art pieces, each one carefully chosen and probably worth a small fortune. The lighting in this part of the house was dim, casting long shadows on the smooth floors and making everything feel even more intense.
My mind still reeled from the kiss we had just shared. The abruptness of its ending left me off-balance, and I struggled to regain my composure. The air felt thick with unspoken tension, making it hard to breathe. Why did I like it so much? Was this some messed-up way of punishing myself for what hadhappened back in Paris? I couldn't tell. All I knew was, I'd barely been there for a few hours, and I already despised myself.
Stay focused, I told myself firmly, exhaling the breath that had been stuck in the back of my throat. I couldn't let him see just how much he affected me.
We approached a nondescript door, secured by a high-tech fingerprint and digital lock. Rex's presence loomed large beside me, his confident stride a stark contrast to my nervous energy. As he reached out to unlock the door, I noticed a slight tremor in his hand. Was it excitement? Or something darker?
"This," Rex said, his voice low and intense, "is my sanctuary."
The door swung open, and I gasped. Before me lay a vast, climate-controlled room filled with an astounding array of artwork. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sheer magnitude of his collection. This was every art lover's heaven, and somehow, Rex made it happen for himself.
"Go ahead," he urged, a hint of pride in his voice. "Take a look around."
I stepped inside, my eyes darting from one masterpiece to another. Paintings, sculptures, and antiques from various periods and styles lined the walls and filled specially designed display cases. The space itself was a work of art, with state-of-the-art lighting and security systems ensuring the preservation and protection of each piece.
"This is incredible." I almost breathed out my words, unable to hide my awe. I didn't even know where to look first. There was so much to take in, all at once.
Rex chuckled. "I'm glad you approve, Ms. Bowers. After all, this is what you'll be working with."
I wandered deeper into the space, lost in admiration. A Monet caught my eye, and I moved closer to examine it. "Is this real?" The words slipped past my lips before I had a chance to thinkthem through. It had to be genuine. I doubted a man like him would deal with anything that wasn't authentic.
"Every piece in this sanctuary is authentic," Rex confirmed, following closely behind me. "I don't deal in forgeries."
I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Unlike some, you mean?"
His lips curled into a smirk. "Your past is your own. I'm more interested in your future."
I moved on to a sculpture, my fingers itching to touch it. His words echoed in the back of my mind as I processed them. "And what exactly do you see in my future?"
"Great things," he murmured, his breath hot on my neck. "If you're willing to embrace them."
I spun around, finding myself trapped between Rex and the artwork. "And if I'm not?"
His eyes darkened. "Then you wouldn't be here, would you?"
I swallowed hard, acutely aware of his proximity. "I'm here for the art, nothing more."
"Are you?" Rex challenged, leaning in closer. "Because that kiss earlier suggested otherwise."
I pushed past him, needing space to think clearly. "That kiss was a mistake." It was a mistake I didn't want to happen again, yet, a part of me remained painfully aware of the fact that I had very little say in the matter.
"Was it?" He followed me, his presence inescapable. "It didn't feel like a mistake to me, not that you would have a choice in the matter."
And they say romance is dead, I thought to myself bitterly, but the words remained unspoken. A part of me continued to wonder—a man like him could've had any woman he wanted. Most of them would, more than likely, be so willing to indulge in whatever dark desires he was involved in. So, why me?
I stopped in front of a painting, pretending to study it. "What is this really about? Why am I here?"
He was silent for a moment, and when I turned to look at him, his expression was unreadable. "You're here because you intrigue me. Your passion for art, your determination to rebuild your career, and yes, your beauty. I want to possess all of it."
His honesty caught me off guard. "I'm not something to be possessed."
"Aren't we all possessions in one way or another?" Rex mused, his fingers trailing along the frame of a nearby painting. "Owned by our desires, our ambitions, our fears?"
"That's different." I shook my head, trying to clear it. "This is madness."
"Perhaps," he agreed. "But isn't that what makes life interesting?"
I ignored Rex's unsettling words about madness and continued my exploration of the space. His intense gaze followed my every move, and I could feel the weight of his eyes on me as I navigated through the stunning collection. It was hard to focus on the artwork with his predatory presence looming behind me, but I forced myself to concentrate.
