Page 29 of Sapphire

Relief falls across her face at my words.

“Please don’t feel embarrassed around Tomas and me, Zoe. It was an accident.”

She gives me a small nod as an answer.

“I would like to paint you.” The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain has time to catch up, the champagne giving me a looser tongue than I’d anticipated.

Zoe’s jaw drops at my request.

What was I thinking?

“You paint?”

“The night we found you, I had my first art showing at the DuPont Gallery in town.”

Zoe’s eyes widen with curiosity.

“It was a sellout.”

Her brows rise high on her face.

“You are a very beautiful woman, Zoe. You would be a perfect model.”

“I’m no model, Mateo,” she says softly.

“I think you’re perfect.”

Zoe shakes her head. “You want to paint, me?”

“I do.”

Zoe frowns as she twists her hands together with uncertainty.

“Let me show you my studio,” I ask, holding my hand out for her.

She hesitates for a moment before taking my hand in hers. We entwine our fingers, and I let my thumb rub over her soft skin. The tiniest of shivers lace her body at my touch. Maybe she isn’t as unaffected by Tomas and me as she makes out.You still can’t have her.

We head out past the pool where Tomas is doing laps. He stops and watches us walk by, his brows pinching together as he notices our linked hands. He gives his head a shake then continues his swimming. We move past the day bed and down toward the backyard. It’s dark except for solar lights that follow the path to my studio which is hidden away in our gardens. We reach the white wooden hut, and I push open the door. This is where I come to spew forth my innermost thoughts. It’s my private oasis from the world. Not many people have been inside my studio.

“Mateo,” Zoe gasps as she takes in the walls lined with my work.

I release her hand and let her explore.

“These were the works that didn’t make the exhibition.”

“I’m sorry I ruined that night for you,” she says as she runs her hands over the canvas.

“You didn’t ruin anything. I’m thankful you were found at our gate that night and not someone else’s. Someone was looking out for you that night.”

She gives me a small smile. “These are amazing, Mateo. You are so talented.” She waves her arm at the paintings I have hanging around the room.

“Then let me paint you, please,” I ask, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes, which makes her giggle.

“I don’t know.”

“I’ve already seen you naked,” I tease.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she says, covering her face again.

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