The Billionaire And His One In A Million Work Of Art

Renewed Purpose

We arrived at my apartment in his car, parking right out front, a nondescript building squeezed between high-end boutiques and sparkling cafés.

The ride to my apartment felt strange. Damien seemed different. He was a bit distant, and his vibe was off.

A troubling thought emerged in my mind as I thought about our conversation yesterday and earlier. I think I know why it feels so strange - I'm just a means to an end for him, someone who perfectly fits in the project he's working on.

What was I even thinking? That I could be more to him? Damien, Damien Brooks? Or that he felt a connection with me? That he saw me as more than just an artist for his pivot.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt foolish. A mix of emotions swirled inside me - disappointment and a dash of anger. How could I have been so blind?

These thoughts pondered in my mind during the ride.

I know love comes with a price or a sacrifice, and if that's how I feel right now, I don't even want to know. And to make mention, we are two worlds apart.

"I wanna make a quick call," he said, pulling out his phone.

"Sure. I'll be inside." I replied, quickly rushing out of the car.

My hands trembled slightly as I reached the door to my apartment, causing me to fumble the keys.

My Dad had earlier headed out for his shift at CoreData Corporation, where he worked as a data entry operator.

I quickly rushed to the basement - my studio is in the basement. It's quite unconventional but very comforting to me. I find peace and solace in doing what I love most comfortably, and it rekindles my passion to create masterpieces.

Making my way downstairs to my studio, I was refreshed by the smell of paint and linseed oil. The space adorned with half-finished canvases and sketches made me reflect on my chaotic yet passionate artistic journey, where every stroke of my brush danced with my aspirations and fears.

I quickly assessed the pieces adorning the walls and leaning against easels. What would capture Damien's attention? I scrutinized my work from a viewer's POV, and if I'm the viewer, yes, I would feel a connection with the pieces.

I felt a flutter of nerves, and my insecurities creeped in.

Struggling with my nerves and insecurities, I looked around the studio, and I saw beauty, I saw creativity. My creativity. Not from anyone's POV but my own sight, and I felt a surge of confidence, subsiding my nerves.

In the moment, I tried to prop my pieces, ensuring that they were prominent and well showcased. I tidied up my brushes and paint tubes, trying to create an atmosphere that matched the potential of the moment.

Everything is set aright, I exhaled and inhaled, "You got this, Ariel!" I muttered repeatedly to myself.

"Wow, this is incredible!" He exclaimed, "This is great art I'm talking about!" He added as he walked through the room, his eyes scrutinising every painting.

I was eagerly waiting to see the end result if I'd be the perfect fit for the art initiative. "Thank you." I replied softly.

He paused, stared at the easel, and giggled.

I immediately interjected, "This is a work in progress- I was just experimenting with some ideas." Anxiety crept into my tone as I added, "It's a mess."

"Did you say a mess?" He asked, frowning slightly, his expression shifting from casual interest to seriousness. "What inspired it? What's the story behind it?"

Amongst all the paintings, Damien's attention caught the new piece I started working on earlier when I felt a sudden spark of creativity. "You want to know what inspired it?" I asked curiously.

"Yes!" He said, almost immediately, his brows furrowing in concentration.

"Well, this piece - umm, I don't know, I -" I gulped, "I just let my thoughts flow and I sketched." My face lit up with a smile.

"I was inspired by last night - the auction, and the people I met." His gaze still fixed on me, I realised that the painting was inspired by him.

"It has a story, so what's the plan for this piece." He asked.

"Plan?" I asked uncertainly.

"Is this the finished work?"

"Oh, no. I'm not done yet." I replied, "I've still got some work to do."

"I'm interested in this piece. Let me know when you're done." He said.

"Sure." I replied, my lips unfolding into a bright, shy smile.

"I want to know about this painting." He said as he pointed at a painting hung on the wall. "What's the inspiration behind it?"

"I painted this after a long walk through the city. It's the blend of different stories all at once. It captures the street's aliveness and chatter and the different emotions all happening at once. The colours represent the different aspects of joy and the shadows of struggles"

Damien remained silent for a moment, studying the details keenly, then he said, "Authentic. I like it." With a smile gracing his lips.

"Thank you." I chuckled lightly. "This is my way of processing the things around me. I believe that art is a conversation - it's a conversation between me, the artist, and the viewer.

"Mmm." He nodded lightly, his expression thoughtful, contemplating the depths of my statement. "That's powerful! You have a way with words that make one connect deeper with your art."

My heart swelled at his words, and my face beamed with gratitude.

"You've got a great perspective!" He added.

With enamour filling the atmosphere, I broke the silence. "The art initiative, could I really be part of it?" My tone laced with hope and skepticism.

"Absolutely. I believe you're fit for this initiative." He said, sincerity beaming in his eyes, "We want an artist who brings depth and passion to this project, just like you."

"Uhm, so you really think I'm fit for this?" I asked, my heart racing.

He gazed intensely at me, as if he was looking right through my fears. He dipped his hands inside his pocket and exhaled deeply, "The goal of this art initiative is to showcase passion-driven artists like you," he pointed at me. "Ariel, in as much as I'm into your work and want you to be part of this initiative, you need to believe that your work is worth this opportunity."

He's actually seeing through me.

I sighed in relief, "I believe - I know it is!" I exclaimed, my voice steadier than I expected.

"Good." He smiled, his face filled with warmth. "This initiative will provide resources to help you develop your work further. We'll offer mentorship from already established artists and host exhibitions to display your art and create networking opportunities."

I nodded enthusiastically.

"We want to create a community that builds talent and authenticity." He added, leaning on the edge of my cluttered desk.

"That sounds incredible!"

"Yes, uhm-" He rubbed his lips gently, "We can start small. Your work can be featured prominently, and we can pair it with other emerging artists to create a sense of community."

"Okay, I can work on preparing a series of pieces that aligns with this theme."

"Great!" He exclaimed, "Let's meet next week to discuss in details and introduce you to the other artists involved."

"Thank you, Damien, thank you for trusting me." I replied with a big smile.

"No, thank you. It's refreshing to see someone so passionate." He replied, his enthusiasm palpable.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was on the brink of something significant.

We spent the next moment talking about art. I was entranced by his character and enthusiasm.

He asked about my favourite artists, my aspirations, and my goals as an artist. Replying to his questions, I found myself opening up to him.

I felt my heart racing from the connection I had with him.

**[Damien's phone chimes]**

"Uhhh, I'll get going. I'll be in touch." He said, ignoring his phone call.

He stood up, brushed off his jeans, and prepared to leave.

"I'll be looking forward to it." I replied, leading him out.

In determination, I picked up my paintbrush, infused with a renewed sense of purpose.