The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance

by Serena Silver

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. Oh crap. Her face went pale. Was this actually happening? “I-I’m Tiffany.”

  “I know.” Luke pulled her business card out of an inside pocket of his jacket and placed it on the table. “Please, have a seat.”

  “I am so sorry. I thought this whole thing was a set up by my ex. I didn’t realize…” She bit her lip to stop from rambling. This was a business meeting. Tiffany sat up straighter and put a smile on her face. “So, the man on the phone yesterday said you wanted me to do some family portraits?”

  “Yes,” Luke sipped his water, “I’m willing to pay you one thousand dollars for each painting. Is that an acceptable offer to you?”

  A thousand dollars?! Tiffany’s eyes widened when she heard the amount, “How many portraits are we talking about?”

  “Five. One for each of my siblings and myself, respectively.”

  “Okay, sure. I can do that.” Her heart pounded in her ears. Five portraits? She had never been commissioned to do such a big job before.

  Luke’s smile broadened, “Good. Come with me.” He stood up and repocketed her card.

  “Where are we going? I just ordered a drink.” She looked back at the bartender as she trailed after Luke.

  “You just agreed to do the portraits, didn’t you?”

  “Well yes, but…” Tiffany’s voice trailed off. She followed Luke out of the hotel’s entrance. She got the feeling he wasn’t used to not getting his way.

  The sleek, black car from the other day was parked out front. The same man from before opened the door for Luke. He slid into the backseat and leaned over to look out of the door to where Tiffany was still standing, “Are you coming, or not?”

  She blotted out her mother’s voice in her head telling her not to get into a car with strangers and slid in beside him, “Where are we going?” The door was shut firmly behind her. Her heart was still racing. This was crazy!

  “I thought you would want to meet your subjects before you started.”

  The car drove until they reached the Krieger family home. The expansive yard and beautiful home took away Tiffany’s breath. She would have to try not to get lost. Luke led the way up the steps to the front door. The dark wood moved easily at his touch. He held the door open for her.

  A staircase in the center of the foyer led up to the second floor. Marble columns stretched to the ceiling. Tiffany looked around in awe when she was caught off guard by a snide female voice, “Luke, you really shouldn’t bring your afternoon delights home. We have a whole hotel at your disposal.” A young blonde woman stood off to the side. Her blonde hair was swept up in a bun, and her dress hung off of one shoulder.

  “Margarite.” Luke acknowledged the woman, but the stale formality hung in the air. “This is our new portrait painter.”

  “How…lovely.” Margarite circled Tiffany like a buzzard zeroing in on its prey. Tiffany had a feeling that ‘lovely’ was not the word this woman really wanted to say. “Make sure to get my good side, won’t you?”

  “For that to happen, you would actually have to have one. She’s a painter, sis, not a miracle worker.” Another young man wandered out of the shadows, “I’m Charles.” He extended his hand to Tiffany.

  “Tiffany,” she reached out to shake his hand, but he ensnared her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Tiffany blushed and pulled her hand away quickly.

  Luke tensed beside her and took a step forward as if to use his body as a barrier between Tiffany and his siblings, “Where are the others?”

  “Adeline is at some sort of music recital, and Alaric is out doing whatever Alaric does.” Margarite sounded bored.

  “Very well,” Luke turned towards Tiffany, “would you like to see your studio?”

  “My studio?”

  “Well, we couldn’t have you dripping paint all over the foyer, now could we?” Margarite turned up her nose in a sneer.

  “Don’t mind her, she’s just mad about missing her beauty sleep.” Charles leaned in to study his sister’s face, “Judging by the bags under her eyes, I’d say she’s been missing it for about a year now.” Margarite sucked in her breath. Her fingers automatically probed the skin under her eyes. She left hurriedly to find a mirror.

  “Follow me, Miss Page.” Luke ignored the antics of his siblings and ascended the staircase.

  Tiffany could feel Charles’s eyes on her as she followed behind Luke. His stare made her uncomfortable, and she quickened her pace. “When should I get started?”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow?” That was really fast, but she needed the money. “Okay, sure. I can do that.”

  The second-floor landing was lined with previous portraits. It looked like the family had them done every couple of years. The seriousness of the earlier work was daunting. Tiffany paused to admire the work.

  “Father likes to have them done every five years.”

  “I think there may be some mistake. These are way better quality than what I could even hope to paint. Maybe in like ten more years, I could begin to scratch the surface of this kind of technique and talent. I mean, look at these brushstrokes. They’re masterful.” She leaned in closer to the paintings on the wall. A younger version of Luke stared down at her from the canvas. The amusement in his eyes was so lifelike, it took her breath away.

  “If I wanted another replica of these,” Luke was standing directly behind her now, “then I would have just hired the previous painters.” His voice was a whisper in her ear, and it made her skin tingle. She didn’t dare turn around. “Now, follow me.” His presence shifted away from her. He resumed walking back down the hall. Tiffany turned away from the painting slowly and followed him to a room further down the corridor.

  The studio was stocked with blank canvases and an assortment of paints from acrylics to watercolors. Windows allowed natural light to filter into the room. A large drop cloth was already spread out on the floor under an easel. A few chairs and benches were lined up against the far wall. Tiffany ran her fingers lightly across the unopened paints. The range of colors was astounding. “This is incredible.” She spun around in the center of the room. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “The studio is up to your standards then?” Luke leaned up against the doorframe and watched her as she spun.

  “Are you kidding?! Look at this place.” She grinned in wonder. She couldn’t believe she would really be working here. “So, what chair do you want to use? We can go ahead and get set up for tomorrow.”

  “You won’t be painting me. Not tomorrow at least. Tomorrow you will be painting Margarite.” His eyes sparkled as he watched her face fall.

  Tiffany tried to hide her disappointment, “Oh, yes. Of course.” To be honest, she had forgotten about his siblings for a moment. She was caught up in the excitement of the studio, and for a moment it had been only then.

  “Don’t worry,” he smiled at her and arched an eyebrow, “you’ll get to paint me eventually.” His face darkened slightly. Tiffany wasn’t sure if a cloud had passed by shifting the light streaming in from the window, or if it was more than that. “If Margarite doesn’t go first, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “No problem. I’ll do my best.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Luke’s face brightened again. “I’ll have Sergei take you home.” He pushed off from the door frame and started walking back down the stairs. “He’ll pick you up at eight in the morning.”

  “I can drive myself, it’s not a problem.”

  “No, Sergei will take you. It’s what I pay him for.” His tone was final. Tiffany felt uncomfortable having someone drive her places, but Luke really wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

  “Done already?” Charles had a glass of lemonade in his hand. “If it were me, I would have taken at least half an hour.” He smiled from above his glass.

  “Charles,” Luke admonished him sternly.

  “What? She’s cute.” His soft smile made Tiffany blush. Sh
e took a step closer to Luke without realizing it as if he would protect her from his brother.

  “Margarite, your session will begin tomorrow,” Luke shouted so his sister could hear him from the other room.

  “Better start getting your beauty sleep now then.” Charles joked.

  “Don’t mind him.” Luke held open the front door for her again. “He just likes to get a reaction out of people.”

  “Seems like he’s superb at getting what he wants, then.”

  Luke chuckled and shut the door after her without saying a word. Sergei opened the door to the backseat for her. Tiffany climbed into the car and sighed. She still wasn’t sure if she forgave him for acting the way he did the first time they met, but a paying commission was the best luck she’d had in months. This was the biggest job she had ever had. She couldn’t wait to get home and fill Hannah in on everything.

  Chapter Three: Margarite

  Sergei was at her apartment promptly at eight in the morning. Tiffany hadn’t slept at all the night before. She was too excited and nervous. What if the Krieger family didn’t like her work? Luke had said he liked her style of painting, but what if the others didn’t? The weight of having to impress such high-class clients began to settle on her. A commission like this could make or break her career.

  Tiffany squirmed in the back seat, “So, how long have you worked for Mr. Krieger?” She made an attempt at small talk to distract herself. Sergei didn’t answer. “I’ve only met three of the siblings. What are the other two like?” He still didn’t answer. She leaned back in the seat and fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist.

  “There is no need to worry, Miss Page. Mr. Krieger is a good judge of talent. He would not have hired you if he did not think you could do the job.” Sergei’s accent was lightly Russian, but she could tell most of it had faded over the year.

  “I hope you’re right.” Tiffany breathed the words under her breath.

  Sergei parked the car outside of the Krieger’s house and opened the door to let her out. She strolled up the steps. Her finger pressed into the doorbell, and a deep resounding bell echoed inside the house. The day was overcast but still bright. Suddenly, the door was pulled inside.

  “Good morning, beautiful!” Charles stood in the doorway looking her up and down.

  “Oh, I was expecting Luke.” Tiffany shifted her weight. His eyes slid over her body.

  “Big brother Luke had to take a meeting today. Come on in.” He gestured for her to come inside and gave a slight bow.

  His attention put her on edge. She didn’t want to be alone with him any longer than necessary. “Where’s Margarite?”

  “Someone say my name?” Margarite swirled into the room. Her hair was arranged in a braided updo, and an elegant green dress brought out the color of her eyes.

  “You look stunning!” Tiffany said the words before she could stop herself.

  Margarite seemed pleased with the compliment, and her face softened towards the painter. “Well, let’s get started.” The dress accentuated her curves as she walked up the stairs.

  Charles rolled his eyes at his sister, “Try not to be too hard on the poor girl. She can only do so much with what she’s given to work with.” Tiffany thought she saw Margarite’s shoulders sag a little lower, but the young woman maintained the same gait as before.

  Once they were in the studio, Tiffany closed the door behind them, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll close this, so we don’t have any negative visitors.” She smiled at Margarite. It was her job to keep the client happy. It was much easier to please a happy model than a dejected one. If Margarite focused on her brother’s teasing, it could bring up any self-consciousness she had, and that would make her more critical of the portrait. The emotional association to the work was often equally as important as the painting itself.

  “Not at all.” Margarite’s mood brightened a little at Tiffany’s kindness. “Where do you want me?” She looked around at the studio. Her eyes landed on one of the chairs, but she didn’t approach it.

  “Just pick any of the chairs or benches.” Tiffany lowered her purse to the floor and pulled out a stained apron. Pastels and dark colors splattered and speckled the front of her smock. From the corner of her eye, she saw Margarite reach out for a large, brown chair. The young woman pulled her fingers out at the last second, and her shoulders dropped again as she reached for a plain, white stool instead. “Wait, why not the brown one? I’ll help you carry it.” She walked to where her model was and placed her hands on the gorgeous leather, “You really wanted this one, right?”

  “The stool is beautiful, really.”

  Tiffany could sense that her brother’s teasing was still affecting Margarite. “Hey, I’m here to make you feel beautiful. If you want the brown one, then you deserve the brown one.” She placed her hands under the arm of the chair and gestured for Margarite to help her. The other girl smiled appreciatively at her, and the two of them positioned the chair closer to the easel.

  “Thanks.” She sat stiffly in the chair as Tiffany placed a blank canvas on the stand and picked out her paints.

  “So, why do you let him get to you?”

  “Who, Charles? No matter how thick your skin is, if someone throws enough acid at it, it’s going to eat through eventually.”

  “Why don’t you try a more relaxed pose? I want you to be comfortable.” Tiffany mixed some colors together on her palette.

  Margarite let out a sigh, and her posture relaxed, “Better?”

  “Almost. What if we put one of your legs over the arm of the chair, and you prop yourself up on your elbow on the other arm?”

  “Like this?” She moved until she was basically laying down in the chair. Her dress hung off in a cascade of fabric.

  “Perfect. How do you feel?” Tiffany beamed over at her.

  “Empowered, and a little sexy actually.” Margarite smiled back and giggled.

  Tiffany stared at the possibilities of the blank canvas before she started. “Great. You know what they say about the best revenge.”

  “What do they say?” Her features contorted in bepuzzlement.

  “That the best revenge is a stunning portrait.” The paintbrush stroked the canvas leaving behind a trail of color.

  “How long have you been painting?”

  “Recreationally? Since I was old enough to hold a paintbrush. Professionally? Two years now. To be honest, this is my first big gig.”

  “It’s nice that you can just pursue your hobby like that.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Margarite sighed, “There’s just so much pressure to keep the family name in a good light. Failure is not an option for us.”

  Tiffany paused and tilted her head, “What would you do if you could do anything, with no pressure?”

  “Pottery.”

  “Pottery?”

  “I know it sounds silly, but I like the way the clay feels in my hands. It’s a little dirty, but I like making things with my hands.” Margarite’s eyes lit up as she spoke about pottery. “There’s also this old Chinese tradition where they would fill the cracks of broken pots and cups with gold. It’s called Kintsugi. They would let the imperfections make the pieces more valuable. I always found that inspiring.”

  Tiffany smiled to herself. Her brushstrokes lined the canvas with golds and greens and browns. After a few hours, there was a knock on the door. Luke came in the studio. He smiled at his sister and walked behind Tiffany to look at her work. Tiffany could feel the heat from his skin. She pulled the brush away from the canvas. She couldn’t paint with him this close to her. It distracted her from her work, and she didn’t want to ruin all of her hard work up to this point.

  “How’s it going?” His voice was calm and naturally assertive.

  “Almost done.”

  “Meeting already over?” Margarite resituated herself in the chair. She was getting stiff from posing for so long.

  “Just wrapped up. Thought I would take Miss Page out for lunch. I�
��m sure you both could use a break.”

  “Can I see it?” Margarite sat up, peering over at the back of the canvas.

  “One more touch, and then you can.” Tiffany glanced back at Luke.

  “Luke, you’re making her nervous. Let the poor girl work!” Luke moved away at his sister’s words.

  Space let Tiffany breathe better. She added a few more details and then stepped back. “Okay, you can look now.”

  Margarite rushed to the canvas. The excitement was evident on her face. When she walked behind the portrait her smile faded. Tiffany’s heart shuddered. Did she not like it? The canvas showed Margarite draped over the chair. Flecks of gold glinted in her hair and veined their way through her dress. In her hand, Tiffany had painted a small ceramic cup. It was a small, secretive detail that would only have meaning for Margarite. Strands of gold and light brown wove their way through the background.

  “If you don’t like it—” Tiffany started to reassure her model that she could do another one, but Margarite stopped her.

  She placed her hands on Tiffany’s shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. Her voice whispered in her ear, “It’s perfect. Thank you.” As she pulled away, Tiffany saw her wipe away a small tear that had started to slide down her cheek. Margarite covered her hand with her mouth, and her eyes glittered with happiness.

  “Shall we, Miss Page?” Luke held out his arm.

  “Oh! I almost forgot!” Tiffany pulled off her apron and grabbed a small, brown paper sack that was tucked in her purse. She handed the bag to Margarite. “This is from my roommate, Hannah. She mixes her own herbal teas. I told her you were having some trouble with sleep, and she sent you this. I think she said it has chamomile, orange blossoms, and jasmine.”

  “Thank you so much.” Margarite took the bag and clutched it to her chest. Her eyes strayed back to the canvas.

  Tiffany followed Luke out into the hallway. He shut the door behind them to give his sister privacy. “I wonder if you can live up to the standards you have just set for yourself for the rest of our family portraitures. It has been some time since Margarite has been so pleased. But that has more to do with Charles than with herself.”