Romance: Hard

by Penny Ward

  No!

  I need to keep my mind on the task. I am here to meet Joel – not get caught by the lust of Mr. White.

  “Shall we share a drink while you wait for your friend?” he smiles.

  “Um…” it is very hard to say no to the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

  “What are you drinking Amber?”

  No…

  I have to resist.

  “Thanks… but I really am waiting for someone. I have been trying to meet this person for a number of weeks now, and this is our first meeting. Maybe another time?”

  “Right,” he smiles again. I swear if I was standing up, my knees would have buckled by now. “Listen, I will be having a drink by myself in the booth over there for the next hour. If things don’t work out with your friend, why don’t you come over and say hello to me then.”

  “Thank you,” I smile.

  My eyes are glued to Mr. White’s large shoulders as he walks away to the booth in the corner. Wow, that is the tastiest body I have ever seen. His tailored suit hugs tightly to his strong physique and I can’t take my eyes off him. When he sits down, he catches me staring with my mouth still open.

  Damn. I giggle like a schoolgirl and turn back to my drink. Looking down at my watch, I see it is time for Joel to arrive.

  Eight o’clock.

  Nerves flood through me. I suppose he is the creative type – which means he will hardly ever be on time. He will be disorganized, and it is probably only now that he remembers that he should be joining me for a drink.

  Eight fifteen.

  Come on, Joel. Where are you? I turn my head every time the door to the bar opens but none of them look at me. Nobody here even looks like an artist.

  Eight thirty.

  I am now up to my third Gin and Tonic and I am very well aware of Mr. White’s eyes on me. He is staring at me, waiting for my date to show up. He must be enjoying the fact that I am currently being stood up.

  Eight forty-five.

  Damn. He’s forty-five minutes late and I am starting to give up hope. He’s not coming. I don’t know whether he has just forgotten, or he has walked into the bar, took one look at me, and decided that was enough. I check my email on my phone but there is nothing.

  Nothing.

  Nine o’clock.

  After four Gin and Tonics, and waiting patiently for one hour, I decide it is time to give up. He’s not coming. Damn. I feel defeated.

  Empty.

  Turning around slowly, I look over my shoulder to Mr. White’s booth. At least the night won’t be a total waste…

  16

  “Hi,” I try to hide my disappointment as I walk over to Mr. White’s booth.

  “Looks like you could use a drink?”

  “Yes. Yes, I could.”

  He waves his large hand to the bartender, and in a sign of respect, the bartender is at the table within seconds.

  “Another drink for this beautiful lady please,” his smooth voice orders my drink.

  “Certainly sir.”

  I let go of a deep sigh as the bartender runs away to fix my drink. The bartender must know that there will be a large tip at the end of the night if he looks after Mr. White.

  “Why the large sigh?” he leans forward to question me.

  “I just… I was really looking forward to meeting someone tonight, like really looking forward to it, and they haven’t shown up. It’s quite deflating.”

  “And what sort of person would stand a delicious lady like you up?”

  “An artist.”

  “A good artist?”

  “The best.”

  The bartender places the drink in front of me and I mange to provide him half a smile.

  “I know so little about you, Mr. White. I mean, I don’t know what you do for a living, I don’t know how you made your money and I don’t know what type of person you really are.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Maybe… I mean, I don’t even know your first name.”

  “Then let me formally introduced myself – My name first is Joel,” he holds out his large hand to me.

  “Pleased to meet you Joel. It’s funny, the person I was waiting for tonight was named Joel.”

  “I know.”

  I lean forward, “What do you mean, ‘you know’?”

  And then it sinks in…

  “Joel… Mitchell Greene?”

  He smiles, “Yes, Amber.”

  What…

  No…

  “No,” I shake my head in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “No…” I shake my head again, “What?”

  “Yes Amber.”

  “So you let me sit there by myself at the bar for an hour so you could play your game?”

  “No, Amber. I came to say hello to you and explain what was happening, but you brushed me aside. You didn’t want to listen to me.”

  I shake my head in disbelief. “You knew it was me emailing you, didn’t you?”

  “Yes Amber.”

  “What… I…” I can’t find the words to say what I am feeling right now.

  It doesn’t make sense. It can’t make sense. Joel and Mr. White are the same person? Surely not?

  “Why is it so hard for you to believe that Amber?”

  “I…” I can’t answer his question. “Why didn’t you tell me from the start? Why play this game?”

  “Amber, I have protected my identity as an artist for so long, I didn’t know how to tell the truth.”

  “So you lied to me?”

  “I didn’t lie to you… I just didn’t tell you the whole truth.”

  “What? That’s lying in my book.” My confusion is beginning to be replaced by anger. “How could you not tell me after the nights we spent together? How could you still keep it a secret then? Or have you slept with so many women that nights like that don’t even matter to you anymore?”

  “It’s not like that at all, Amber…”

  “No, it is like that. It is clear to me that you have only your self-interest in mind.” My anger starts to build some steam. “You only care about yourself and have no interest in helping others. I am nothing to you, am I? I’m just another girl. Just another girl in a very long line.”

  “Amber…”

  I don’t give him a chance to continue, “You prick. You selfish prick.”

  I don’t know where the anger is coming from, but it is taking control of me.

  All the feelings of betrayal over the past year rush back to the surface. I tried to keep those feelings suppressed, but in this moment, the anger comes racing out.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Pardon?” he is surprised.

  I grab the full Gin and Tonic at the table and toss it across to Mr. White, covering his well-fitted suit.

  “Leave me alone, you prick.”

  ****

  As I step out onto the sidewalk outside the bar, I feel his large presence behind me.

  “Amber… wait.”

  I don’t turn around. Waving for a cab with tears in my eyes, I feel him edge closer.

  “No,” his voice is firm as he grabs my wrist. “You are not walking away without giving me the chance to explain.”

  “What is there to explain?” I snap back. “You deceived me. You knew what you were doing all along. You were just playing with me for some silly little game of yours.”

  “No Amber, it is not like that at all. I was not playing with you. The times we spent together have been the most intense moments of my life. I have never experienced a connection like that before. You blow my mind.”

  “Then why not tell me? Why not explain who you really were?”

  “Because I was afraid,” his beautiful eyes drop towards the ground.

  “Afraid of what?”

  “Afraid of losing you.”

  The vulnerability in his voice makes my heart melt. “But you knew how much I adored you as an artist?”

  “And yet, you were sleeping with the playboy - The ma
n with the expensive suits, the expensive penthouses and the expensive wine. That is what you were seduced by. I was afraid that once you learnt the truth about where I earned my money – the art – that you wouldn’t want to spend time with me. You would parade me around your gallery in triumph, but I was afraid that you wouldn’t want me for who I am.”

  My mouth drops open.

  My heart sinks.

  Joel is laying it all out in front of me, pouring his heart and soul out onto the sidewalk… for me.

  “I… The playboy was fun, there is no doubt about that,” I smile awkwardly. “But it was that, a little bit of fun. That’s why I was angry when I first saw you tonight. Tonight wasn’t about getting the best sex of my life… it was about getting to know the most beautiful man I have ever conversed with – and that is Joel.”

  “Well, here I am,” he holds his arms open.

  “This is all still very confusing for me. I am still trying to put together the reality that you are the same person. I mean, I thought you were so ugly that you couldn’t show your face in public.”

  “And you still came?”

  “Of course. I wasn’t interested in how you looked. I was only interested in what was on the inside.”

  He smiles, “I’m sorry that I deceived you. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you straight away who I was,” his apology feels genuine. “Give me another chance.”

  “And what would you do with another chance?” I question him.

  “I know a great Chinese takeaway next to my studio. Maybe we can go past there and then you can have a look at my latest work?”

  How could I say no to that?

  17

  The walk from the Chinese takeaway store to Joel’s art studio is not far, but it fills me with nerves. The anger inside me has subsided and has been replaced by a feeling of nerves. I can barely say a word as we walk up the stairs to the loft studio.

  “What are you thinking?” Joel asks as we approach the third floor.

  “This isn’t where I thought I would find the world’s greatest artist,” I puff.

  “I keep my studio here because I’m afraid if I let all that money get to my art, my creativity will suffer. Keeping my studio in the place where I first started, even if the neighborhood is a little rough, keeps things real for me. It means that my work is still about the art, rather than the impossible amounts of money that it brings in.”

  My heart continues to fall for this guy as we walk to the entrance of the loft where he fidgets with the lock before the door will open.

  “Who would have thought that the world’s most expensive modern art is kept behind a door that a twelve year old could open?”

  He laughs, “Twelve year olds in this neighborhood wouldn’t touch the art. They would just think that it is absolute trash.”

  I laugh with him, more out of nerves, as we enter the studio.

  Oh…

  Wow…

  It is everything that I expected. The perfect loft-style art studio. It is a large space with rafters coming across the roof, canvases lying against the walls, and a feeling of emotion drifting through the air. Just being in this space sends my head spinning. Who wouldn’t be inspired working here?

  Joel takes a seat on an old beanbag in the corner of the chilly room, “Sorry if it is a bit cold in here. I prefer to work in this temperature.”

  Sitting down next to Joel on an old footstool, I open the box of Chinese takeaway noodles.

  “Are you ok? You haven’t said much since we entered the room?” he asks.

  “I’m good,” I smile. “I’m just a little bit blown away. This is all very overwhelming. I didn’t expect the man that I lusted after was going to be the man that I wanted in my heart.”

  He smiles his beautiful smile again. It feels so strange. Here is a man that I have seen naked, that I have had inside me, and I am just starting to get to know him now. He couldn’t be more perfect. Even if he felt he had to lie to me about who he was, I can forgive that. This moment has absolutely blown me away. And seeing him look so relaxed in this environment makes me only want him more. He seems at home here, like he is not putting on a mask about who he should be. He feels like he has thrown that mask away and is who he is.

  “You don’t seem like you’re pretending here,” I say.

  “That’s why I love it here. I don’t have to be anyone. I don’t have to live up to other people’s ideas about me. I can just be me.”

  My heart melts again. He is amazing…

  “There’s something that I want you to see,” Joel jumps up from the beanbag. “Come on, follow me.”

  I follow the broad shoulders of Joel into the back edge of the loft, past six or seven canvases covered by cloths. Even being here is a dream come true. I love the randomness of the room. I love getting an understanding of how this man creates such amazing art.

  “What are we looking at?” I ask cautiously.

  “I want to show you my new paintings.”

  “New paintings?” my voice cracks with nerves. “That nobody else has seen?”

  “That’s right,” he smiles. “This is a world premiere.”

  Oh my…

  I am about to see the newest artwork of the world’s greatest contemporary artist…

  Wow…

  Joel confidently walks to the largest canvas and then turns to look directly at me. His beautiful eyes make my heart skip a beat.

  “I painted this the day after we spent our first night together. Like I said, I had never felt so connected to someone before in my life. You made my world spin.”

  Joel pulls at the canvas and it drops to the floor, revealing a huge painting of the world with a woman standing next to it. The woman is naked and facing away from the viewer, seemingly with control over the spinning globe. Her hair drifts softly over her shoulders.

  “I call it ‘The woman that spun my world’.”

  “That’s… me?”

  “It sure is,” Joel looks to me for a reaction.

  “My butt sure looks good in this painting,” I laugh.

  “Your butt sure looks good in real life,” Joel approaches me. “This is the centerpiece of my next collection about love, lust and desire. Your butt features in a few of the paintings.”

  I laugh out-loud again as Joel approaches me and his strong hand rests on my butt.

  “But you are the best masterpiece I have ever seen,” he kisses my neck.

  “Don’t just think that because you painted a picture of me, all is forgiven,” I moan as he continues to kiss my neck.

  “No?” he doesn’t stop kissing me. “Then tell me how to change your mind.”

  “Fuck me hard over that bench and all will be forgiven.”

  “As you wish…”

  18

  Three months later…

  The buzz in the gallery is overpowering.

  I can almost taste the excitement, the energy and the elation. The New York art crowd love viewing Joel Mitchell’s new work almost as much as I love showing it.

  “You put us on the map, baby,” Marissa whispers in my ear as she looks around the room. “All the big players are here. They all know we exist now. This has put us in the big league.”

  “It’s not my work they’ve come to see.”

  She kisses me on the cheek and whispers into my ear, “But it is your butt they are looking at.”

  I can’t help but laugh. It is true – the centerpiece of the exhibition by the still secret Joel Mitchell is my butt. In all its naked glory. Hanging up in the middle of my gallery. I must say, Joel certainly did it justice. It looks better on the painting than it does in the mirror. And I’ve looked at it a lot in the mirror since he first showed me the picture. Everyone in the room wants to know how we landed such a big exhibition, the biggest of the year, but we can’t tell anyone. It would be hard to explain anyway.

  What would I even say? ‘I was having amazing sex with this guy and it turns out that he is the man we’ve all been looking for.’
Nope. There is no way I am telling that story to anyone but Marissa.

  Marissa said she had suspicions that Mr. White was an artist. She would occasionally see a spot of paint on his hand, or she would be impressed by the amount he knew about brushstrokes, but she never had any idea that he was the Joel Mitchell. I am happy for Marissa, and the gallery. All the hard work that she has put in over the years has finally paid off. Right now, people want to be a part of what she has presented. Right now, she is at the pinnacle of the art world.

  And I am happy about the faith that she showed in me. She didn’t have to trust me with this job, but she saw something others didn’t.

  Joel and I have been dating for three months now and everything is going perfectly. It couldn’t be going better. The man is perfect in every way and I feel like we are perfect together.

  “I think I would like to have this one,” Mr. White whispers over my shoulder.

  “Hello Mr. White. Which painting were you talking about?”

  “Not a painting. I was talking about this one,” one of his hands cheekily squeezes my butt.

  “It’s all yours…” I smile. “As long as you promise no more paintings about my body parts.”

  “No more paintings,” my man smiles. “Sculptures on the other hand…”

  The End

  Other titles by bestselling author Penny Ward:

  Romance: The Billionaire’s Pleasure

  Romance: Hired

  Romance: Stepbrother Lust

  Romance: Owned

  Romance: Her Fighter

  Romance: The Billionaire’s Contract

  Romance: The Personal Assistant