Cyrus let his hand slide along her waist and down her hip before letting her go. He didn’t take his gaze from her, and she saw the moment something shifted and unshakeable resolve entered his eyes. “Time’s up,” he repeated, his voice rough around the edges.
He walked away and left her standing there, a bit disoriented, a bit confused. He was out of sight before she realized she’d been holding her breath. What alarmed her even more was her own lack of action. Not once had she considered, much less tried, to pull away.
“Are you all right?”
She jumped when Roland touched her arm. She’d forgotten he was there, completely consumed by Cyrus’s presence. She could still feel the heat from his hand on the curve of her hip.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled.
He’d said her time was up. If she didn’t do as he demanded, he would retaliate against her. But how? What could he possibly do?
Now was a waiting game. One where she had to wait to see what the ramifications of her actions would be.
Chapter Seven
Daniella unlocked the doors to Beaux-Arts Galleries, located along a tree-lined street in downtown Ballard where historic storefronts remained intact. She had managed to carve out a popular showroom that over the past few years had emerged as a coveted venue for both new and established artists.
Walking down the avenue, a visitor easily gained an impression of what the area might have been like back in the late 1800’s when it was first settled and filled with lumber mills. The quaint neighborhood contained stylish boutiques, restaurants, coffee shops, and other galleries. Every second Saturday, a Chamber of Commerce-sponsored art walk brought visitors to the neighborhood and provided exceptional foot traffic which had helped her business grow. Beaux-Arts not only sold prints and original paintings to the general public, she and her two salespersons consulted with businesses that wanted to freshen their décor. They also worked with private collectors who viewed art as not only a decoration, but an investment as well.
Her business was couched between a glass-blowing studio on one side and a handmade jewelry store on the other. Across the street, an independent bookstore sat crammed full of books. She liked to go there sometimes on her break and browse the shelves. She’d found a gem once—an old edition of Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. She hadn’t been able to resist adding it to her small collection of rare titles. Purchasing it had been a splurge for sure, back when she had money to spend on such things. Nowadays most of her disposable income went toward fighting Cyrus.
The gallery was closed today because she and her staff would be welcoming three groups of underprivileged kids at different times during the day to the gallery to learn more about the world of art and to create their own paintings. It was something they did once a year, but she’d love to do it more often.
All of her employees gladly participated. In addition to the three salespersons, she employed an office manager, a framer, and an in-house portrait painter. If her plans went well, she’d soon have Beaux-Arts Deux, a New York location, which would employ a gallery director, five salespersons, two framers, and an office manager. She had been tweaking her business plan for months but still hadn’t approached the bank. New York could make or break her business, and though she hadn’t admitted it to anyone, she worried about being able to succeed there.