CHAPTER 5: What Lies Beneath the Surface
1384 Words
Seren woke before sunrise.
Not because she wanted to.
But because her mind refused to rest.
The almost-kiss.
Lucas’s touch.
The way everything shifted the moment that man interrupted them.
And then—
Nothing.
Like it never happened.
Seren stared at the ceiling of the guest room, her jaw tightening.
“Fine,” she muttered under her breath. “If that’s how he wants it.”
Professional.
Cold.
Distant.
She could do that too.
By the time she stepped into the studio prepared for her, the sun had already begun to rise.
And for the first time since arriving—
She felt like she could breathe.
The space was… perfect.
Large windows. Natural light pouring in. Fresh canvases lined neatly against the walls. High-quality paints arranged with almost obsessive precision.
Lucas didn’t do anything halfway.
Even this—
Her workspace—
Felt like control.
Seren walked slowly across the room, running her fingers lightly over the surface of a blank canvas.
Clean.
Untouched.
Waiting.
Just like that painting.
Her chest tightened slightly.
“You’re early.”
Seren stiffened.
She didn’t need to turn.
She already knew.
“I thought you liked that,” she replied, keeping her voice even.
Lucas stepped inside.
And just like that—
The air shifted again.
Seren forced herself to face him.
He looked exactly the same as yesterday.
Perfectly composed.
Untouchable.
As if nothing had happened.
As if she hadn’t almost—
She cut the thought off immediately.
No.
We’re not doing that.
“You’ll begin today,” Lucas said, moving further into the room.
“No briefing? No instructions?” she asked.
“You’ll paint.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s enough.”
Seren folded her arms.
“You brought me here for something specific,” she said. “So either tell me what you want… or stop pretending this is just a normal commission.”
A pause.
Then—
“Recreate it.”
Her breath caught.
She didn’t need to ask what he meant.
“The painting,” she said slowly.
“Yes.”
Seren stared at him.
“You’re asking me to copy something I’ve only seen once.”
“I’m asking you to do what you’re capable of.”
Her jaw tightened.
“And if I can’t?”
Lucas met her gaze.
“You can.”
Not confidence.
Not encouragement.
Certainty.
And for some reason—
That unsettled her more than doubt ever could.
Seren turned away first, walking toward the blank canvas.
“Fine,” she said. “But I need to see it again.”
Silence.
Then—
“No.”
She froze.
“What?”
“You’ve seen enough.”
Seren turned sharply.
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is here.”
Frustration flared.
“You expect me to recreate a painting from memory?” she demanded. “That’s not just difficult—that’s impossible.”
Lucas stepped closer.
Slow.
Measured.
“Then prove me wrong.”
Her heart stuttered.
God, he was infuriating.
And worse—
A part of her wanted to prove him wrong.
“Why?” she asked suddenly.
Lucas stilled.
“Why this painting?” she continued. “Why me? And why won’t you let me see it again?”
Silence stretched.
Then—
“Because the less you see,” he said quietly, “the more you’ll remember.”
Seren frowned.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It will.”
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.
Then he turned.
“Begin.”
The door closed behind him.
And just like that—
She was alone.
Seren stood there for a long moment, staring at the empty space where he had been.
Then she let out a slow breath.
“Unbelievable.”
She turned back to the canvas.
Blank.
Waiting.
Challenging her.
“Recreate it,” she murmured.
Her fingers curled slightly.
“Fine.”
She picked up a brush.
Dipped it into paint.
Paused.
Closed her eyes.
And saw it again.
The light.
The shadows.
The emotion.
The hidden layers.
Her hand moved before she could think.
Stroke by stroke.
Shape by shape.
Memory guiding her.
Instinct taking over.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Then two.
Seren didn’t notice.
Didn’t stop.
Didn’t breathe.
Until—
Her hand froze.
Her eyes snapped open.
Her heart slammed violently against her chest.
“No way…”
She stepped back.
Staring at what she had just painted.
It wasn’t complete.
Not even close.
But there—
Right there in the lower corner—
She had painted something she didn’t remember seeing.
A mark.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But familiar.
Too familiar.
Her breath turned uneven.
“I didn’t…” she whispered. “I didn’t see this.”
So why did she paint it?
Her fingers trembled as she reached out, hovering just above the canvas.
The shape.
The curve.
The placement—
A memory flickered.
Paint-stained hands.
A quiet voice.
A warning.
Her chest tightened painfully.
“No…”
A knock broke her out of it.
Sharp.
Sudden.
Seren flinched.
“Miss Wilde?”
Not Lucas.
A woman’s voice.
Seren forced herself to step back.
“Come in.”
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside—elegant, poised, her presence just as controlled as everything else in this place.
But her eyes—
Her eyes went straight to the canvas.
And froze.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked sharply.
Seren frowned.
“Working.”
The woman stepped closer.
Too fast.
Too tense.
Her gaze locked onto the lower corner of the painting.
On the mark.
And for the first time—
Seren saw it.
Fear.
Real fear.
“You need to stop,” the woman said.
Now.
Seren’s stomach dropped.
“Why?”
No answer.
Just tension.
Thick.
Uncomfortable.
“Who are you?” Seren demanded.
The woman didn’t respond immediately.
Instead, she straightened.
Composed again.
Controlled.
“My name is Elara,” she said. “And I suggest you listen to me.”
Seren’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t take orders from strangers.”
Elara’s gaze hardened.
“Then take it as a warning.”
A chill ran down Seren’s spine.
“What kind of warning?”
Elara hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
“That painting you’re recreating,” she said quietly, “should not exist.”
Seren’s pulse spiked.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“And you didn’t listen.”
“No,” Seren said, lifting her chin slightly. “I didn’t.”
Elara studied her.
Long.
Carefully.
Then her gaze dropped once more to the canvas.
To the mark.
Her expression shifted again.
Something darker this time.
“You’ve already gone too far,” she murmured.
Seren’s breath caught.
“What does that mean?”
Elara looked back at her.
And this time—
There was no control left.
Only certainty.
“It means,” she said, “that he should have never chosen you.”
Silence crashed between them.
Heavy.
Explosive.
Before Seren could respond—
The door opened again.
Lucas.
His presence filled the room instantly.
His gaze moved from Elara—
To Seren—
To the canvas.
And then—
It stopped.
On the mark.
Everything changed.
“What did you do?” Lucas asked.
His voice was low.
Dangerously calm.
Seren’s heart pounded.
“I painted.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She swallowed.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Everyone out.”
The command cut through the room.
Sharp.
Final.
Elara hesitated.
Then left.
The door closed.
Now it was just them.
Again.
But this time—
The air felt different.
Tense.
Unstable.
Lucas walked toward her slowly.
His eyes never leaving the canvas.
“Explain,” he said.
Seren shook her head.
“I don’t know how—I didn’t see that mark before—”
“Look at me.”
She did.
And for the first time—
There was no control in his gaze.
Only something raw.
Something dangerously close to—
Fear.
“You weren’t supposed to find that,” he said quietly.
Seren’s breath caught.
“Find what?”
A pause.
Then—
Lucas stepped closer.
Too close again.
But this time—
Not soft.
Not controlled.
Something else entirely.
“The truth,” he said.
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