Champagne Bubbles & Lipstick Stains: An Erotic Romance (Book 1) Page 6

  “Are you going to come and talk shit about my art?” I was angry, and it flowed through my tone flawlessly.

  “Yeah, I’m paying you over a million dollars, and these will be displayed in my home. I have every right to come and tell you what I think,” he spat in my direction. I had no chance to respond as he turned and walked away. He left me there speechless. I threw my brush down in frustration.

  My stomach let out a growl, and I knew it was lunchtime. This man was a piece of work, but with every interaction I had with him, I wanted to know him more. He was an asshole, that was a given, but there was more under that, and I had no idea why I was hell bent on figuring it all out, figuring him out.

  Deciding that I’d rather sulk while putting food in my belly, I left my studio and started up the hall. As I reached the stairs, I spotted Anne with a tray going toward the East Wing, she was delivering his lunch. I didn’t understand why he had to eat in his room, why couldn’t he be a normal human being and eat in the dining room, hell, eat with me, I was sort of his guest.

  I tried to banish my angry thoughts toward him as I went down the stairs and into the dining room. My place was already set up as it had been for all of my meals here. I typically spent my meals chatting with Anne while she did other work, like polish silver and other mindless tasks. I think she was happy to have someone to chat with during her work hours.

  Sitting in my spot, there was already a pitcher of cold lemonade waiting for me. I learned that Anne had a family recipe that had been passed down to her, she made me some, and I was in love. I poured myself a glass and waited patiently for the sweet old woman to return from serving the asshole of the house.

  Anne entered the dining room while I was sipping on the lemonade, it was nice and refreshing as today was a warm one. I was surprised that the weather could get this warm. I always assumed that England was just always rainy and cold, but I had been proven very wrong.

  “Hello, I see you found the lemonade,” Anne mentioned as she came in giving me a grand smile. I nodded as I held up my glass. “Just took Nathaniel some as well.”

  “Ugh,” I grunted out. “I don’t know how you stand to work for him, he is terrible.”

  “He isn’t so bad, he is a nice young man,” Anne countered as she spoke highly of her employer. I rolled my eyes.

  “Not your type, eh?” she questioned.

  “Not anywhere near my type. He is arrogant, brash, rude, condescending, and his looks ... yuck!” I didn’t hold back. He’d gotten me to my boiling point.

  “How do you prefer men to dress?” she asked, she seemed truthfully intrigued.

  “He dresses nice, I will say, I love a man in a suit. It is the way he presents himself, that scruffy beard. If he is going to wear a beard, at least make it neat and then that hair, he needs a haircut as soon as possible.” I thought of Nate in my head. He wasn’t a terrible looking guy, I would say he was very attractive, but he covered it up with that hair and his messy beard. From the look I got of his arms earlier, I wondered what the rest of his body had in store. I banished the thought. Who would want to see what he had? His personality would still be rotten even with a hot body.

  “Remind me to make an appointment with my hairdresser,” came a voice. I sulked in my seat, refusing to turn in the direction of the entranceway. He’d heard it all, I knew it. My cheeks went hot as I heard his footsteps nearing the table. “Aww, are you blushing?”

  “No, why would I?” I turned sharply in his direction to acknowledge him. He looked at me, and a smirk came across his lips. I swore my heart was going to burst out of my chest at the way it was pounding.

  “Your dark cheeks have turned a magnificent shade of plum, I would say you are blushing,” he noted. If I only I had a mirror to see myself. He was holding a tray in his hands. Anne quickly took it from him. “I was only able to get through half before getting a call, I need to get to Birmingham. I will return late tonight.”

  “Have a good trip, Nathaniel,” Anne cooed to him. He was like her baby, an asshole of a baby, but her baby. Nate gave me a smirk and at once he left the room. I heard voices in the hall, it was him, and Langston, who I assumed was taking him to where he was going or at least the airport.

  I took a sip of my glass of lemonade to cool myself down, I hadn’t realized I was burning up until the cool lemonade slid down my throat.

  “I think he likes you,” murmured Anne before she went toward the kitchen with Nate’s tray. Like me? I’m not sure that was a proper way to explain it at all.

  THE BLUES, PINKS, yellows, reds, purples, and all, blended together perfectly. Flowers made me happy and brought joy to me when I needed it the most. My interaction with Nate had taken me off my path, and my creativity needed a reboot. It was the colors that brought me forth, they filled me, and they rejuvenated me. I lived for the vibrancy of color.

  I’d woken up early as I’d spent most of my night tossing and turning. Nate wanted me to do something for him, but he couldn’t tell me what he wanted. I needed to know what his vision was for these paintings. I couldn’t work without vision, and obviously, he wasn’t a fan of mine.

  Just thinking of Nate disturbed the serenity I’d found in one of the many gardens of Branagan Manor. I shook it away and tried to locate the peace I’d collected along with the flowers I was excited to place in a vase. Whenever I was feeling down, fresh flowers always brought me out of my funk and gave me a renewed spirit. I had gardens upon gardens of flowers at my disposal.

  I hummed along as I found the perfect flowers for my personal arrangement. I found myself at a hydrangea bush. I hadn’t had the tools on me to get any on one of my previous visits to the gardens, but today I was going to get some. These particular flowers were one of my favorites. I adored all the colors hydrangeas came in, and these were magnificent with hues of blue, pink, and purple.

  “Are you picking flowers?” questioned a voice. I groaned and turned to see Nate.

  He wasn’t in his usual business attire, but it was obvious he was out for a run. He wore black shorts and a dark gray tight T-shirt. I gawked at the sight in front of me, his sweat filled shirt clung to his body and molded onto every distinct crevice of muscle he had. “You aren’t good at hearing questions, are you? I asked if you were picking flowers?” There he was with that terrible attitude of his.

  “I am. I need some color and inspiration as I attempt to figure out what the hell you want me to paint in the first place,” I spat out, clearly my frustration was getting the best of me, and I allowed it to flow freely.

  “Please refrain from picking flowers in my garden, the groundskeeper has done an excellent job at keeping it neat and orderly, and he doesn’t need some little American girl messing up all his hard work,” he ranted.

  “Little American girl, really?” I questioned, hands firmly on my hips. If I didn’t need this money so bad, I would have quit right there in a dramatic fashion. Instead, I knew that I needed to change the mood. I wanted his attitude toward me to change. Obviously, he admired my talent, I needed him to admire me the person behind the talent as well.

  I looked him over, he had his iPod on his arm and one of the ear buds still in his ear. Over the birds chirping, I could hear the sounds coming from the other bud which lay discarded over his shoulder. Maybe I could try to appeal to his interests, and it could possibly help in my inspiration. I walked right up to him.

  “What are you listening to?” I asked before taking the bud in my hand and putting it to my ear. I was practically standing upon him, this was the closest I’d ever been to him. I listened to the song playing, and my eyes went right to his. The song playing was from one of my favorite bands. I smiled and started to sing along to the lyrics of the song. Singing along I began to move my body in as much dancing as I could while borrowing his headphone bud.

  “You know them?” he asked, his eyes shining bright. I smiled to myself knowing I’d figured out something about him, he had the same taste in music as I did.

  I n
odded in response to his question as I continued to dance. I spotted the smile that spread across his lips as I moved to the music and continued to sing out the lyrics that I knew by heart. This band wasn’t a hugely popular one, I only found them when going out with one of my roommates. One night we went to a bar that was known to feature indie bands and that night, this band was playing, and I was instantly in love. I bought their album that night and played it over and over again until I knew every song forward and backward.

  “They are one of my favorites. I saw them play a few shows,” I informed Nate, still moving my body. I watched his eyes on me, they took me in as I wiggled my hips to the beat. He inhaled a sharp breath and at once he snatched the bud away from me.

  “I have to go,” he grunted. “I’m going to be late for a meeting, thanks for the delay.” His tone was rude, yet sarcastic. He jogged away from me without a single glance back.

  I watched him disappear into the house. As frustrated as I was with him, I found it hard to think of giving up on him. I couldn’t put a finger on it, but there was more underneath his rugged and armored exterior. There was an actual person in there somewhere, and that person was the one who would be judging my art, not the asshole that he presented to the world.

  At that an idea struck me, I picked up the bouquet of flowers I had picked and rushed behind him, toward the house. Inside of the large old house, I went right to my bedroom. Under my bathroom sink, I’d discovered an old vase that I placed my flowers in and added water. I took them with me into my studio room and placed them in the middle of my work table.

  Grabbing a new canvas, I lugged it outside to my easel and placed it there. I knew what I wanted to paint. Thinking of Nate reminded me of an egg, the exterior was hard yet delicate and the inside liquid and runny. I knew his liquid was in there somewhere, and I wanted this painting to represent that.

  Taking my brushes and paints, I went to work. The colors of the flowers were my guide as I imagined in my mind what I wanted to see on the canvas. This painting would be perfect for the East Wing since that wing was Nate’s and this painting was to represent him in a sense.

  Instantly, I was worried. Was he going to like this one? He’d completely rejected my last idea. Maybe my last painting was too tame. With the last one I hadn’t taken a risk, I was hoping he would like it and going with my fear of rejection I stayed in my lane and didn’t swerve like I normally did. He was looking for me to take a risk, risks that he was afraid to take. I saw it all now. I was going to push my box the way I’d been pushing his. Nate wasn’t going to just like this painting, he was going to love it.

  EIGHT

  I’D STAYED UP late painting, but I hadn’t finished. Waking up I knew exactly what I needed to do. I’d seen the painting in my dreams, I saw the finished product. I quickly got dressed and had breakfast. Though Anne was talking to me, I couldn’t concentrate on her words. I was envisioning my painting, I was on a single track, and I couldn’t go off course.

  Going straight back to my studio, I got to work with music playing in the background. After hearing that song from that band, I had to listen to their music. I used my laptop and blasted the song as I moved my body to the beat, adding colors and stroking the brush on the canvas as I went.

  I was in my zone and feeling amazing about how everything was turning out. I hummed to the song playing when I heard the sound of a clearing throat. Nate was leaning against the frame of the doorway giving me a soft smile. He looked me over for a moment, I was covered in paint, but I didn’t care, I was in my freedom zone.

  His eyes left me and went to my current painting. He looked at it with an intensity that made my head spin, I couldn’t read his face. I prayed he would actually like this one and not tear it to shreds with his critiques like the last one. I could be difficult hearing someone speak negatively about the work you’d put your heart and soul in.

  I took a shallow breath waiting for his verdict. I didn’t know quite what to do when a smile crept onto his face. He at least looked pleased, but that could be another emotion in itself for him. I awaited what would come out of his mouth. I watched as he left his place at the door and walked toward my canvas.

  “This is splendid and breathtaking,” he breathed out, his hand reaching toward the canvas, but not actually touching it. I was taken aback by his words. “The colors, they are vibrant and draw you in. I see vulnerability in it. This is what I’m looking for.”

  “A compliment, finally,” I muttered out. He turned to me and gave me a soft look. His olive eyes looking into mine.

  “I’m sorry about the other day. Your other one was good, but it isn’t daring like this one. This one is exactly what I want,” he confessed to me.

  “Glad we can see eye to eye on something,” I noted out matter of factly. He let out a chuckle. Damn, I hated to admit it to myself, but I enjoyed his laugh. I relished in the moment of hearing the way the sound vibrated from his body, relaxed and natural, unlike his usual demeanor.

  “You need to keep letting go and be free with it. It obviously is working for you,” he said as he took a step toward me.

  “And how would you know anything about that?” I questioned.

  “What do you mean?” He took another step.

  “You obviously don’t let yourself go and be free. You are so rigid and scheduled,” I said as he took another step. I took a step back in response.

  My foot slid on the sheet I was using to shield the ground of the balcony from getting covered in paint. It was too late for me to do anything as my body tumbled backward. Hands took hold of me and held me firmly. There was a body heat upon mine, and it was radiating from Nate as he’d kept me from falling and brought my body upright and flush against his. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine as his breath hit my face. His firm arms held me steady and tight. As shocked as I started, I relaxed into his hold, inhaling his pine and myrrh scent. I was intoxicated, and that scared me, it scared me shitless, no doubt about that. His heart was pounding, I felt it fighting its way out of his chest. Was I the cause of his body’s reaction?

  “I actually came up here to invite you out with me tonight,” he started, his voice soft and velvety. I glanced up into his olive eyes, feeling my nipples straining against the cotton of my thin bra and shirt. “I don’t do many social engagements, but a charity near to me is having an event this evening. If you would like to join me, tonight you can meet me downstairs at seven.”

  “Umm, okay, that would be nice,” I answered timidly.

  I had no time to think before he was pushing me away, the heat was gone, his heat. I wanted to whimper out in need of his arms, holding me tight. His olive eyes looked me over with detest. I had no idea what I’d done wrong.

  “Fuck, you’ve gotten paint on me!” he hissed out as he looked down at his crisp white shirt that now had speckled bits of wet paint that were transferred from my tank top.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Messy, Ugh,” he grunted out. “Try and be cleaner!” His eyes met mine for a brief second and as before like in the hall, his eyes told a different story than the tone coming from him. He seemed almost saddened by his outburst of anger. With nothing else, he left me alone on the balcony. It had been an accident, and if he hadn’t pulled me toward him so tight, he wouldn’t have gotten a speck on him. I let out a frustrated grunt, he was like a yo-yo. One minute we were up and the next we were down. It was a job keeping up with who he was going to be next.

  He wasn’t one to talk about messy. He presented himself like a homeless man. He didn’t seem to take care of his long straggly hair and overgrown beard, but he insisted that everyone around him kept everything neat. I shook my head at my thoughts, Nathaniel Branagan was a hypocrite.

  I wondered about tonight, who he would be with me. I wondered what this charity was and what this event would be like. He hadn’t told me what to wear or anything. I guess I was going to wing it.

  PUTTING MY FEET into my cerulean blue heels, I checked my outfit
over one last time. I had spent a long time figuring out what to wear. Luckily, Anne was able to give some insight. The event was a fundraising dinner held at a nearby manor. I’d decided on the nicest piece of clothing I’d brought with me which was a white floral lace dress that hit right above my knees.

  I’d pulled my curls into a tight bun on the top of my head and kept my makeup light. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear before noticing it was a couple minutes before seven and I didn’t want to be late as I knew Nate was one for being on time.

  Quickly, I grabbed my small white clutch purse and rushed out of my room. Walking through the hall, I wondered what an evening out with Nate would be like and if he was still angry about his shirt.

  As I arrived at the staircase, I immediately spotted Nate waiting at the bottom. His eyes peered toward mine. I looked him over as he stood in a black tux. He was handsome, but his beard overpowered his features. I’d love to see more of what was under the forest of hair on his face. His hair was much better, pulled back in a ponytail.

  I don’t think Nate’s eyes left me as I took my time down the marble staircase toward where he stood in the entrance hall. As I reached the last couple of stairs, he extended his hand to me. I took it. His skin was warm and soft to the touch as I held on and went down the last couple of stairs.

  “You look beautiful,” he mentioned to me. My nerves took over as I lightly bit my lip and glanced at him.

  “Thanks,” I answered timidly.

  “Before we go, I want to apologize for earlier with my shirt. I overreacted, and it wasn’t your fault. I should have never had that outburst on you. You are here doing fantastic work.” I was shocked by his apology, one that I hadn’t expected at all. I gave him a soft smile in acceptance as he kept his grip on my hand and began to lead me toward the front door.

  He opened the door and allowed me out before him. I spotted the car waiting for us with Langston leaning against the trunk. The kind man gave the two of us a smile as he straightened himself up and went to the back door to open it up for us. Nate allowed me into the car first before he followed.