Chapter 97
974 Words
Now, King looked around at the other artists already at work. “So. You want to get started, man?”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring your music?”
“Yes.” Noah unzipped his backpack and produced a cheap CD Walkman. It was battered and beaten up, but Noah handled it like it was the most beautiful thing on the planet. King watched as he loaded up a disc, put on the headphones, and turned to stare at the blank canvas.
And just like that, Noah was gone into his head, into his own little world. King smiled as Noah grabbed a paintbrush and dabbled it in a bit of water, dipped it in bright yellow paint. He blinked at the white landscape stretched out in front of him, and King would have paid a boatload of money to know what Noah was seeing on it.
King backed up quietly, wondering if Noah would freak out at him leaving. But Noah gave him a quick glance, a small wave, then turned his attention back to the easel. As King watched, Noah made a decisive brush stroke, then another; that was when King relaxed completely.
“Matt?”
He spun at that soft voice, and almost sighed at the sight of Naomi standing there. She was in a dress and high heeled knee-high boots today, and his eyes roamed over her body hungrily. God, what she’d be like to get his hands on – all soft curves and silky smoothness, he imagined. It would be a miracle and a gift to touch her, just once.
“Morning, Naomi. How you doing today?”
She was staring at him with a very serious expression on her face. “I’m fine. Can we talk privately for one minute?”
If they were going to be private, then talking wasn’t what he wanted to do with her, but he nodded and followed her into her office.
She shut the door behind him, then sat at her desk. That serious look hadn’t gone anywhere, and now he began to get a bit worried.
“The organization received a huge anonymous transfer to its bank account this morning,” she said, getting straight to the point. “One million dollars.”
“Wow.” King’s face was carefully arranged in a politely puzzled expression. “That’s amazing.”
“It is. I also can’t accept it.”
He paused. “Why not?”
“Because it’s way too much.”
“Well.” King grinned at her. “I’m sure that the anonymous donor can afford it – otherwise they’d never have sent it, huh?”
“I’m sure that the anonymous donor meant well, but it’s just… it’s so much money. Aren’t they worried about how it will be spent?”
He shrugged. “I suspect the donor did some research into you and the program, and is fully confident that the money will be put to good use, and that you can be trusted to oversee its spending.”
“How can the donor be so sure?”
He smiled at her now, and her stomach fell smack onto the floor. The crinkles around his eyes were simply the damn sexiest things she’d ever seen, and she idly wondered how old the man was. If she had to guess, she’d put him at about thirty-four, three years older than her. He was sheer strength and power and confidence, and she just knew that he’d be a master in the bedroom: controlled and wild at the same time.
“Because the donor thinks the world of you… or so I would imagine.”
That stopped her. She caught her breath at the look on his face.
“You – the donor does?”
“Yes. I’m quite sure the donor does.”
“The donor barely knows me,” she said quietly.
“He knows enough.”
She bit her lip, thinking about the depth and breadth of her secrets. The alcoholic drinking, and all the dark and horrible places it had taken her over the years. “He doesn’t know anything really important.”
“He’d like to, though.”
“He – he would?”
“Yes.”
“What – how – what does that mean?”
“Well.” King leaned forward a bit. “Maybe – just maybe – the donor would like to take you for dinner tonight, and find out some important things.”
Holy f**k. Naomi went from cautious flirtation to panic mode in the wink of an eye. She had to shut this down, and now. She stood up, putting even more space between them.
“Maybe he would. Unfortunately, since the donation was anonymous, I have no way of finding out who he might be, so going for dinner is out of the question. Assuming it even is a ‘he’ – it could well be a ‘she’, you know.”
King blinked at her lightning-quick change in mood. “Uh, well. That’s true.”
“Yes, it is. And anyway, mixing business and pleasure is always a mistake, in my experience, and it’s an even bigger mistake when this amount of money is involved." Her whole body was cold with anger and fear. "For example, if the donor gave the organization that much money only because he – or she – expected something from me in return, that would be quite unethical. A real conflict of interest.”
King froze.
“It could almost be seen as pre-payment for services expected to be rendered,” she continued ruthlessly. The temperature in the room was sub-zero now. “Don’t you think?”
Jesus Christ… is she actually accusing me of giving her the money so that I can get the leverage to f**k her?
- Writer
