Chapter5
1048 Words
Melody’s POV
The walls of the building scratch the skies, and my eyes fall wide open as Christian pulls into the parking lot. The lights in front of the car go off, plunging us into darkness. The dim light in the middle of the space reaches out to us, and for a split second, I wish it could go off as well. It is silent here, his finger scratching the wheels and his shoulders leaning into the leather seat. I put my bottom lip between my teeth, biting for a second. He angled his head at that minute, and I froze. His eyes drop to my lips slowly, those green eyes making me want to beg, even though I have no idea what I’ll be pleading for. When they return to my eyes, I have forgotten how to breathe, my chest rising and falling without bringing air to me. The silence slices when he takes a deep breath when he looks out the window. “Thank you for agreeing to do this,” he whispers, still not looking at me. I swallow, aware of how his rich baritone fills every inch with the car. It claws at me, desperate for something. My hand reaches for my clutch, and I hold on hard to it, just to keep it from bringing to life the thoughts in my head. “You’re…. You’re welcome.” Christian nods. He stays put for a second longer before clicking the door open, stepping out. Air seems to suddenly rush in with his presence, and my body doubles over from the intensity of the last few minutes.I should not have kissed Adam. I know Christian is upset about it. I saw it in his gaze, in how they darkened each time they watched me during the ride. He wouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t care. Yet, I find myself doing the very things I told myself I wouldn’t do.I flatten my hand against my chest, willing it to stop thudding this hard. It makes me weary, makes my eyes hazy like I had liquor, even if the only thing in my stomach is sugar. A rap comes from my side of the car, and I jump at once, recovering a beat later. Pushing the door open, I meet a man clothed in a suit, a mouthpiece attached to his ear. “Good evening, Miss Clark,” he greets, nodding politely. My eyes scan the space, searching for him. I know he isn’t here because the air feels different. Yet, I can’t help the sudden drop I feel, realizing he has left me. “Welcome to The Lakes,” the man continues, oblivious to the clash of emotions in me. “Mr. McCarthy asked me to escort you to the wall where the painting will take place.
All materials have already been provided, and the guests have already arrived.”“What?” My lips move, but that is the only thing I am conscious of. He smiles warmly, then stretches out a hand. “Let me walk you in, Miss Clark.” Nodding, I fall into step with him, my converse hitting the earth as we move in through the door in the parking lot, leading straight into the foyer. The sight of the glass doors hits me first, and I realize how wrong my clothes are. The doors push open when we get close, and the man in the suit leaves me standing in the middle of the grand space, as he disappears into the crowd. The crowd.
It is a sea of individuals who are aware of who they are to the minute detail. Their scent, rich and insistent, blends to an odd perfection. They look like they just strolled out of a magazine, the whisper of their dresses lodged in the air, and their careful smiles stretched out on their faces.I cannot find him anywhere. “Miss Clark?” The man returns. “You can start now.”I raise my gaze, taking in the stretch of wall I am supposed to work with, white and smooth. My feet move, just as the first note of the music strikes, conscious of all the eyes darting in my direction. Painting with people in the room has always been easy for me. Still, I find my hands quivering as I reach the middle of the stairs with gold banisters, where the brushes and paint lie. An image comes to mind. I stood to mix the paint, getting to work and trying not to bother with where Christian McCarthy could be, whether he was picking my sister up.I had just finished working on the eyes when I heard static climbing through the room. A strong voice booms into the speaker in another second. “Thank you all for coming to the opening of another branch of The Lakes,” the voice starts. “Kindly make your way through the elevator as we begin the grand tour of the hotel.” A soft sigh escapes my lips as I pull my hand away from the wall.
Placing the brush gingerly atop a bowl, I turn around. And I found him. He is the only one in the foyer now, dressed in an impeccable dark suit that seems glued to his frame. It started again, my heart aching so bad as I watched him stare at me. I need water. My throat feels parched. Yet, I find it hard to move from the spot. “Melody.” It is the first time my name has fallen from his lips, the first time I fell in love with my name. He says it with so much fervor, like a line of prayer. He crosses the space slowly, and my fingers dig into the banister, all rationality screaming at me to get out right now. When Christian reaches me, I close my eyes to take in his scent, the wind from the ocean filling me. My breath hitches in my throat when his fingers graze my cheeks, and I tremble under his touch, a warm shiver running up my spine. I take a slow step towards him, another sigh escaping my lips. My eyes flutter closed just as a door opens in the distance. “I’m sorry I’m late!”
- Writer
