Page 86 of His to Possess
As Alain rambled on about the gallery's features, I studied Luka's face, searching for any hint of his true intentions, but he maintained his bored expression, looking around casually.
I watched as Luka meandered through the gallery, his gaze sweeping over the artwork with an air of detached interest. He paused in front of a massive canvas, its bold strokes and vibrant colors a stark contrast to his brooding presence. Alain continued his enthusiastic monologue, his voice grating on my nerves.
Suddenly, Luka leaned in close to Alain, whispering something I couldn't hear. Whatever he said seemed to both amuse and excite Alain, whose eyes lit up as he nodded eagerly. Before I could process what was happening, Alain's hand clamped down on my elbow, yanking me forward. I stumbled, caught off guard by the sudden movement.
"Laurel, escort Mr. Byron and offer your insights on our current collection. Don't disappoint me."
The threat in his voice was clear, even as he plastered on a smile for Luka's benefit. With a final, warning squeeze of my arm, Alain sauntered away, looking far too pleased with himself.
As soon as Alain was out of earshot, Luka let out a heavy sigh. He turned to me, offering his arm in a gentlemanly gesture that felt out of place in the tense atmosphere, but I was grateful for the support somehow.
I took his arm, trying to keep my composure as we moved through the gallery. My heart raced, a mix of fear and confusion swirling inside me. When he spoke, his voice was low, barely above a whisper.
"Play along," Luka said, his voice low and urgent.
I nodded slightly, not trusting my voice. As we paused in front of a landscape, I gathered the courage to ask, "What did you say to Alain? Why did he leave so suddenly?"
Luka groaned, rolling his eyes in apparent frustration. "You really want to know?" he asked, his tone laced with disgust.
I nodded, bracing myself for whatever he was about to reveal.
"I told that despicable man I'd buy one of these crusty old paintings if I could have you for myself. And that I'd throw in extra to fuck you in the backroom."
My body went rigid, shock and revulsion coursing through me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Alain's perverse willingness to use me as a bargaining chip made my stomach churn.
I froze as Luka's words sank in. My grip on his arm tightened involuntarily, a mix of disgust and fear churning in my stomach.
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping even lower. "In one minute of being here, I could tell that Alain is the king of asses." His eyes darted around the gallery to ensure we weren't overheard. "And by how you look… a man who lays a finger on a woman like that should be put down like a rabid dog."
My breath caught in my throat. How could he have noticed so quickly? I had been careful to hide the bruises, to mask my fear behind a professional facade. But Luka saw right through it all in a matter of minutes.
I struggled to find words, torn between denial and a desperate urge to confide in someone—anyone—about the hell I had been living. "I… It's not…" I stammered, but Luka cut me off with a gentle squeeze of my hand.
"You don't have to explain." His eyes met mine with an intensity that made my heart race. "I've seen enough. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I can't just leave," I whispered, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "It's complicated."
A flicker of anger passed over his features. "It always is," he said, his voice laced with a sadness that made me wonder what experiences lay behind his words. "But staying? That's not an option. You know that, right?"
I let Luka guide me to another painting, his arm a steady presence beneath my trembling hand. My eyes scanned the canvas, but I couldn't focus on the brushstrokes or colors. My mind was a whirlwind of fear, hope, and desperation.
"I want to leave," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I've been trying to find something, anything, in Alain's office that could help clear my name. But so far, I've come up empty."
Luka made a noncommittal sound, clearly unconvinced. His eyes, when they met mine, were filled with a mix of concern and something else I couldn't quite place.
"You have a brilliant mind, Laurel," he said, his voice low and tinged with sarcasm. "But you're not a spy."
His words stung, but I knew he was right. I was out of my depth here, fumbling in the dark against a man who was always ten steps ahead. I had been naïve to think I could outsmart Alain on my own.
"I know," I admitted, my shoulders sagging under the weight of my failure. "But what choice do I have?"
Luka's grip on my arm tightened slightly, a gesture that was both comforting and unsettling.
I stared at him, bewildered by his words. He was suggesting I had help all along, a powerful ally I didn't even realize I had.
"Laurel," Luka said, his voice low and urgent, "you had Rex. A man with means and connections who was already willing to help you rebuild your career."
I frowned, shaking my head. "No, you don't understand. We had an agreement so he could help me rebuild my career, not clear my name and search for the switched artwork in a less than legal move."
