FAYE
I hadn’t planned for this.
That was the truth of it.
When I made the bet, it had been impulse—heat, adrenaline, the thrill of pushing Alexander into a corner he never expected just for the fun of it. I’d wanted the fight, wanted to feel that sharp spark between us, wanted to remind him and myself that I was still here… still alive.
But standing there now, I realized something with a quiet jolt of awareness.
I had to name my price.
Alexander stood in front of me. He’d just asked the question, voice steady, almost amused.
What do you want?
For a second, my mind went blank.
Not because there was nothing I could ask for… but because there was too much.
And then, just as quickly, the answer surfaced.
“I want you to paint me,” I said.
The words landed between us, softly.
Alexan
