“Huh?” Blaine says, and Damien laughs.
“What do you think?” Damien directs the question toward Blaine and sidesteps my comment about the drapes.
“You’re the boss.”
“And you’re the artist.”
Blaine raises an eyebrow and smirks at me. “That’s a first. According to Evelyn, our benefactor doesn’t take direction from anybody.”
“I’m not taking direction,” Damien says. “I’m asking your opinion. I didn’t say I would accept it.”
Blaine studies me, circles me, and finally moves me a few inches to the left. Then back to the right. Then slightly at an angle.
He stands back, his chin in his hand, and looks at Damien, who moves me a few inches forward. Then shifts me to a slightly different angle.
“Boys!” I’m beginning to feel like the paid chattel I am.
“Actually, that looks good,” Blaine says. “Stay there. I think I’m having a moment of brilliance.”
I try hard not to move, while at the same time looking sideways at him.
“How do you feel about a reflection?” Blaine asks Damien, then brushes past me before Damien can respond. “I swear, this is going to be amazing.” He pulls out one of the window panels, leaving the wall mostly open except for one pane of glass in front of me. “You see? I’m right, aren’t I?”
He moves back toward the humongous canvas he’s propped up against a table. He shifts a bit as if looking for something, then points. “There. Her reflection on the glass, the breeze, and the woman herself facing out. It will be stunning.”
“Her face?” Damien asks.
“Hidden. Probably looking down. And the reflection will be muted. Nothing graphic. Trust me. It will look exceptional.”
“I like it,” Damien says. “Nikki?”
I force myself not to turn to face him, in case that messes up the composition. “I have a say?” I ask playfully. “I thought you bought me lock, stock, and barrel.”
“Stocks are tempting,” he growls, moving into my line of sight. He glares at Blaine. “Yes. I want the reflection. I want as much of her as I can get. I haven’t had enough this morning.”
My cheeks flame because that’s a rather private joke. We’d been in the shower when Blaine had pounded on the front door. And not just getting clean. I’d been about to follow up my breakfast of fruit and cheese with a delicious serving of Damien. But Blaine’s arrival put a damper on that—and I’m afraid it left Damien a little grumpy.
I smile sweetly again. “By the way, isn’t it Tuesday? Aren’t you supposed to be out of town?” I remember Carl saying that the original meeting was bumped to Saturday because Damien would be away on business at the time of the originally scheduled slot.
He looks at me blankly, and then his face clears. “No,” he says. “I have no plans outside of the office today.”
“Oh.” It takes me a second, but I figure out what he’d done. He wanted to see me sooner rather than later, and he’d lied to Carl to make that happen.
“Somebody broke a rule,” I say. “No lying.”
His grin is pure evil. “I never said the rule applied to me.”
Blaine laughs, and so do I. But some small part of me can’t help but cringe. I never said the rule applied to me.
I know he’s teasing, but at the same time, I’m certain he means it. The rule doesn’t apply to him. Has Damien been lying to me? Maybe not maliciously, but simply because he can? Because sometimes it’s easier?
I think about the questions he’s avoided, the times he’s shifted our conversations. Is he just being a guy? Silent and unsharing? Is he simply inscrutable?
Or is he hiding something?
I recall what else Evelyn said. About how after Damien’s rough youth she couldn’t blame him for being closed off. For being a little damaged.
I think about the Damien who’s held me and kissed me and laughed with me and teased me. I’ve seen a lighter side of Damien Stark. A side that most people don’t know. But have I yet to see the dark?