Se7en

by Sky Corgan

  My heart is drumming like the hooves of a racehorse. I have no idea what I'm going to see once I walk inside this building. I clutch onto Mia's hand, and she whispers into my ear that everything will be alright. She has the whole scoop on what went down with Chandler and what the paintings may show. My parents are oblivious. I lied and told them that all the paintings were done in obscure rooms, being as vague as possible. I may get a tongue lashing once this is all over.

  We enter the massive building, and the lady at the counter smiles as we hand her our tickets and she points us in the direction of Chandler's exhibit. It's a special event, so the rest of the museum is closed off to the public. There are men in suits and women in gowns. We're all dressed to the nines, too. Chandler sent me a custom-made white gown with a lace bodice and feathers covering the train. I look like the belle of the ball, and everyone turns when they see us coming. It makes my cheeks flame. I could do without the attention, but I couldn't exactly turn down the dress, being Chandler's muse and all. Besides, I know it cost a fortune. Both my mom and Mia gasped when they saw me in it, saying that I look like some fairytale princess.

  We reach the entrance to the exhibit, and my chest tightens as the name of the exhibit is finally revealed to me. Se7en, it's called. 'A journey into the seven deadly sins' is written as a subtitle below. I take a deep breath when we stop in front of the first painting.

  It's just as I feared. A nude. Though I would normally be impressed with the quality of the work, I can't help but shield my eyes in embarrassment when standing next to my parents. In the painting, I'm naked on the bed in my room at Chandler's mystery complex. I have one hand between my legs, the other cupping one of my breasts. My eyes are closed, my mouth in the shape of an O. The title of the painting is Lust.

  “Oh shit,” I whisper.

  “It's going to be okay.” Mia tugs at my arm. “It's a gorgeous painting.”

  “I think I'm going to wait outside,” I hear my Dad grumble before walking away.

  “Well, this is a bit unexpected,” my mom confesses. “I'm glad we left your little brother at home.”

  “No shit,” I agree.

  “Shall we move on.” She quickly urges us on.

  I'm not sure I want to see anymore. I clutch onto Mia while we walk, closing my eyes as we approach the next painting. “Is this one as bad?”

  “Oh, this one's nice,” my Mom says, answering for her.

  I open one eye, then the other. This one isn't bad at all. I'm still in the bed, asleep in my Nap Time nightgown. You can't see the writing on it, but I know that's the one I was wearing because it's turquoise. My hair is strewn around my face like a wispy halo. I look at peace. This one is titled Sloth.

  “Oh my lord.” Mom gasps and draws her hand up to her chest as we reach the third painting, and again I find myself cringing and wanting to die. I definitely should not have brought my parents to this exhibit.

  On a giant canvas are dozens of shards of what appears to be broken glass. Each one has a black and white image of me staring straight forward while Chandler fucks me in one position or another. Except his face is hidden in all the paintings and mine is in plain view. This one is Pride.

  “Maybe you should go wait with Dad,” I suggest, feeling like I'm torturing my mother.

  She steps up close to my side, giving me a serious look. “Emma Jones, did you sleep with that man?”

  I wrinkle my nose, guilt evident in my expression. “Mom, he's really hot,” I whine like a child.

  “Oh, Emma.” She rolls her eyes at me.

  “Just wait until you meet him. He's great. I promise.” I tug at the sleeve of the long red dress she's wearing.

  “Did you know he was going to do this?” She gestures to the art.

  “No. I had no idea.” I shake my head, only half lying.

  “This is,” she points at one of the shards of glass where Chandler has me on my back, “indecent and sick. You should sue him.”

  “I can't. I signed a release form for these. And I honestly don't mind them.” I try to stand my ground. “It's art, Mom. This is what art is about. The human body is nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “It's not just the human body, Emma. It's your body,” she chastises me.

  “It was my choice,” I insist. “If you don't like it, then you can just go.” I nod in the direction of the door. “I'm proud of what Chandler and I created together.”

  “You'll be lucky if your father isn't going to buy a shotgun right now.” She furrows her brow at me.

  “That's Chandler's problem, not mine,” I quip. “Now shall we continue.” I hook my arm in Mia's to proceed through the rest of the exhibit. Despite her obvious disgust at what she's seen so far, my mother reluctantly trails behind us.

  The next painting seems a lot more abstract. It's a simple gray canvas with pink and red marks streaked across it. Many of the people here probably won't pick up on what it is, but I know. It's when Chandler flogged me. The title is Wrath.

  “This one looks super interesting,” Mia says as we approach a display in the middle of the room. It looks almost like a box. There are two paintings facing each other and a walkway between them. On one side you can see a blurry painting of a man and woman having a candlelight dinner together. The other side is a painting of me standing alone. My eyes burn into the couple at the table. I look hurt and angry and jealous. And now I understand why Chandler did what he did. All of the emotions are there that he needed to convey Envy.

  “I don't like this one,” I confess, hugging myself and stepping away from the painting. I don't want to remember how I felt when he deceived me. I'm just thankful that it was a deception.

  The next painting has a much lighter feel to it. It's a mixed media painting. The painting itself is of me lying on a bed. A real candy bra and underwear has been affixed to the canvas. Thick brown and red paint that is supposed to simulate various sauces is stripped across my skin. Cupcakes are painted all around me, at least a hundred of them. Gluttony is the title.

  “This one is kind of cute,” my mom admits.

  “This one was fun to do.” I smile at the memory.

  “Were there really that many cupcakes around you?” Mia asks.

  “Well, they weren't around me, but they were there.”

  “Did you get to eat them?” She looks at me.

  “Yeah, and they were delicious.” I laugh.

  The final painting is larger than life. It's of me sitting on a throne painted up as a queen. There are stacks of money piled on both sides of me reaching the top of the throne. I look regal and snobby and nothing like I've ever looked in real life. I'm not sure I like this one either. It's the final sin, Greed.

  “Did you really get to be around all that money?” Mia stares up at the painting with her mouth agape.

  “Yes, but it wasn't like that.” My stomach turns from my expression in the painting. Is that what I would have looked like had I accepted the money? “Well, that's it, I guess,” I say with a sigh.

  “Wait.” My mom points to a piece of art on the other wall that I hadn't noticed. It's garnering a surprising bit of interest from the guests. There are people standing all around it. “Isn't that one of yours, Emma?”

  “What?” I spin around to have a look, taking a few steps towards the picture. When I recognize what it is, my heart catches in my chest, and I feel like I might faint.

  Shortly after returning from being with Chandler, after I had told him what I draw, he asked me to create a manga version of the two of us together. It appears he bought the print from DeviantArt, had it blown up, and has put it on display for the world to see. Below it is a caption. “Art by my beloved Emma Jones whom this exhibit would not have been possible without. You can see more of her work online at DeviantArt.” He's included a link to my account.

  My eyes begin to water, and I feel like I can't breathe. I clutch onto both Mom and Mia for support. “I can't believe he did this.”

  “Are you upset?” Mia asks. />
  “No. Of course, I'm not.” I shake my head.

  “I think it's wonderful.” My mom beams. “The best art in the entire gallery.”

  “I just can't believe he did it.” This means so much to me. More than he'll ever know.

  I look around, desperately trying to find Chandler so that I can thank him, but he's nowhere to be seen. I check my phone, knowing that he's going to be making a speech in a few minutes. I guess I'll just have to wait until then.

  “There's the artist.” A woman turns to me with a smile.

  “And the muse,” a man by her side adds.

  The crowd circles me, and I'm suddenly overwhelmed with praise that I never expected. My mother and Mia step aside to give everyone room to speak to me. I can tell that they're happy for the attention I'm getting.

  I'm surprised with how interested some of the people are in my art. I'm asked questions about commissions and original pieces. I never thought that the people who liked Chandler's art style would have any interest in mine.

  The questions and fawning continue until Chandler takes the small stage that has been set up for him. I'm so busy socializing with the people at the exhibit that I don't even notice he's there until he clears his throat to get the room's attention. When I turn to look at him, I'm more in love than ever before. He's incredibly handsome in a tuxedo that I know was custom made to fit his body.

  “Good evening, everyone,” he begins. “I hope you've been enjoying the journey I've taken you on with the seven deadly sins. As the Bible tells us, we're all sinners. That concept has always fascinated me.

  “I built a little place on a private island far far away from here to see if I could explore all the sins with a special muse. Emma, would you mind coming up here?” Chandler zeroes in on me, and my cheeks flush as I realize I have no choice. I'm about to be in the spotlight. Those who don't yet know that I'm the model in all of Chandler's paintings are about to.

  He offers me his hand as I approach the stage, and I stand by his side, feeling a bit nervous to see so many faces staring up at us. Being with Chandler gives me strength though, and I know I shouldn't feel ashamed because this is art. There's nothing dirty about it. Not really.

  “I put Emma through a bit of hell when she stayed with me.” He smirks at me, and everyone laughs. “But I suppose that's part of the point of the exhibit. The sins are evil. We fall prey to them. Sometimes, they're our downfall. But two things happened during my exploration that I didn't expect. One is that Emma did not fall prey to greed. She was offered a million dollars, and she turned it away for the sake of love. Because we fell in love, which is the other thing I had not expected.” Now my cheeks are red for a different reason. Is he really confessing his love to me to the public? How romantic; I swoon. “Emma saw the worst of me that week, and she put up with me, and she understood, and she still loved me for it. And I don't think that anyone else could have done it, and I wouldn't have wanted anyone else by my side.

  “She walked away from the money because I made her another offer, an offer that she thought was worth more than a million dollars. So I want to take that offer one step further. I want her to have that million dollars, but in a different way.” He outstretches his arm to hand the mic down to someone. My heart feels like it might leap out of my mouth. I'm still getting the money? What is this about?

  My expression is marred with confusion as I watch Chandler dig in his pocket. I expect him to pull out a check, but instead, he extracts a small black box. When he drops down on one knee in front of me, the world begins to disappear. Before he even opens the box, I lose my balance and tip over, waiting for impact.

  Strong arms swoop around me, and I hear the faint sound of voices asking me if I'm alright. Soon, I'm surrounded by people. Chandler is looking at me with concern. I blink up at him, feeling nauseous and bewildered.

  “Are you alright?” He brushes my hair away from my face, and I smile up at him stupidly.

  “I just dreamed you were about to propose to me.”

  Everyone laughs, and I feel embarrassed for having said something so silly in front of so many people.

  “Get her some water and a chair,” Chandler shouts, and the items are delivered a few minutes later.

  I sit on the chair and guzzle down the water, feeling like a spectacle. All eyes are on me. People are making jokes that the proposal was more than I could handle. That's how I know it was real.

  “Carry on,” I tell him playfully once I've gotten a hold of myself. Everyone is staring at us, waiting for the dramatic conclusion.

  “Are you sure you're alright?” Chandler places his hand on my shoulder, clearly still concerned about me. The fact that he's putting my health before this public display only makes me love him more. If I said I wasn't okay, there's no doubt in my mind that he'd whisk me away to somewhere private and finish what he started later away from prying eyes.

  “Bring it, Lexington,” I challenge him, wanting to see what's in the box.

  “Oh, they're so cute,” I can hear Mom say in the distance. Maybe since Chandler is going to propose, she won't hate him so much for painting me naked all over the place.

  Chandler goes down onto one knee again, opening the box. The diamond inside is so big it looks like it would weigh me down and kill me if I fell in the water with the ring on. “This ring is worth one million dollars,” he tells me matter-of-factly. “You were the queen in my last painting, and I want you to be my queen in real life. Emma Jones, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  “Wife, huh? I thought you were going to make me your queen.” I pretend to be disappointed.

  “A man can only offer so much.” He winks at me.

  “Say yes,” the crowd cries out in a chorus.

  I gaze past Chandler to Mia and my mom. It appears that my dad rejoined them. He doesn't seem too pleased, but Mia is shouting with the rest of the crowd, and my mom is crying. She looks at me through her tears and nods her approval.

  I turn to Chandler, taking his face in my hands. “Yes, I'll be your wife and your queen.”

  We kiss in front of God and everyone else. He picks me up and spins me in his arms. The crowd cheers, and I feel like a genuine princess.

  This is not how I thought the night would end. Not how I thought my life would begin. And I definitely didn't think that seven days—that seven sins—could lead to heaven.

  THE END.

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  Sky Corgan is a USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Texas where the sun is hot and the men are hotter. When she's not typing away at her next steamy romance novel, she enjoys hanging out with friends and planning vacations.

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  Also By Sky Corgan:

  Bully

  Unmatchable

  Torn

  Back to the Heart

  Primal

  Revenge Games

  Flesh

  Sold Innocence

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  Bonus Excerpt

  VirginsforSale.com

  One would wonder why a girl like me would do something like this—willingly give herself away to a man she's never met before, promising her complete subservience. Not give herself away. Sell herself. It's hard for me to be real with myself about it, especially when it makes me feel like a prostitute. But that's what I'm doing, selling myself to some rich sexual deviant. Equivalent to a mail order bride, but something much much darker.

  He will own me for life, be able to do whatever he wants to me. I just hope that it's every
thing I've ever fantasized about.

  I've watched my mother work hard and scrimp and save every penny to provide a decent life for us. I've witnessed the sleepless nights and tears and been left alone for her double shifts at the diner. I don't ever want to work as hard as she does to make ends meet. And now I won't have to.

  This will be a blessing for both of us. I'll give her half of the money, and then as soon as my new owner comes to retrieve me, I'll move out so that she won't have to work so hard. I know she won't understand, and I'm honestly not sure I want to explain. In hindsight, this is probably partially her fault.

  My real father bailed the second he heard he'd knocked my mother up. Every time I ask about him, she gives me a different name, so I'm not even sure she remembers who he was. A nameless face in a handful of possible sperm donors. My mom never tried to hide or make an apology for the fact that she was a bit of a skank before I came into the world. She's retained her beauty throughout all these years, something that, unfortunately, didn't get passed down to me, but she's never really been good at finding decent men.

  When I look at my mom, I realize that I got almost none of her features, and it makes me sad. She has this gorgeous long straight auburn hair, while mine is the color of mud. It also curls into an unruly mess once it grows past my shoulders, so I make sure to keep it cut just above them. Her face is almond shaped while mine is round. Her nose is long and slender while mine is short and snubbed. She's modelesque tall with an hourglass figure and double D tits. I'm flat chested and barely 5'2. If you stood us side by side, you'd never be able to tell we're related. The only thing I inherited from her is her pale blue eyes, but even those are cursed. While she has 20/20 vision, I wear glasses. I've always wanted contacts, but she says that glasses last longer for the price. Maybe now that I'll have my own money, I can get some.