Dark Masterpiece (Serendipity Series 3)

by Brieanna Robertson

  It was a beautiful kitchen, now that she’d had time to actually look at it. It was large with plenty of counter space and an island for added room. All of the counter tops were black marble and the dining room was off to the left in front of a large window draped in heavy, burgundy curtains. Evie imagined she probably could have put at least three fourths of her apartment in the kitchen alone.

  “Seth, go find him,” she commanded.

  Seth’s eyebrows shot up in the air. “Are you completely out of your mind?”

  She shook her head. “No, we have to let him know dinner’s ready somehow.”

  He snorted and sat back in his chair. “You go find him. There is no way I’m wandering around this freaky house trying to find that freaky guy. It’s just not happening.”

  Evie heaved a sigh and put her hands on her hips. “Seth—”

  “No way!” he cried. “It’s not happening! There’s a Chinese gong in the corner of the living room. Why don’t you use that?”

  She frowned, then a slow smile spread across her lips. She felt a devilish glint come to light in her eyes. “While I think having a Chinese gong hanging out in your living room is rather strange, it could be used to our advantage.” She strode with purpose toward the living room.

  Seth almost fell out of his chair trying to jump up and run after her. “Evie!” he exclaimed. “You’re not serious! Are you trying to piss this guy off?”

  Evie located the gong. She picked up the mallet and flashed Seth an evil grin.

  “Holy crap,” he pleaded, looking genuinely pained. “Seriously, don’t.”

  She pulled her arm back, then let it fly. Seth clapped his hands over his ears as the sound reverberated through the silent house so loud that the walls seemed to shake.

  “Dinner’s ready!” Evie shouted at the top of her lungs.

  Seth winced. “You’re going to get us killed,” he grumbled.

  She snorted. “Whatever. If that windbag thinks I’m going to make this easy on him, he’s got another thing coming.” She turned and headed back into the kitchen where she sat down and started dishing up her own plate.

  Within seconds, Traevyn strode into the kitchen, a black scowl darkening his handsome face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Evie stood and shoved a plate in his hands. “I need you to give me money to go grocery shopping tomorrow unless you plan on me making something out of the moldy cheese. I will also need access to a computer so I can find out where the nearest grocery store is. I’m sure there’s one in Monterey, but I’m not sure where as Seth and I have only ever seen the pizza parlor. Whether you wish to eat at the table with Seth and me is completely up to you, but we will not dine in the basement like common servants, if that was your idea. You can choose our company or not. It really doesn’t matter to me.”

  He stared at her for a moment, saying nothing.

  “Dinner will be served at seven o’clock every night. If you’re not here, I will continue to use the gong method. If the gong method irritates you, I would suggest being here on time.” She sat down and continued to eat without pause, as if she was a teacher instructing her hundredth student.

  He stared at her for a moment longer, his scowl even blacker than before. After a few moments of her being almost positive that he was going to slay her with his eyes alone, he disappeared into the living room briefly, reappeared, threw two one hundred dollar bills on the table, loaded up his plate, and left.

  Evie frowned as he walked away. “Well you’re welcome!” she shouted after him. She took the money and shoved it in her pocket. “Jerk.”

  Seth started to chuckle and Evie couldn’t help but grin. She had pulled that off better than she ever would have given herself credit for.

  “You’ve got more balls than any guy I’ve ever met,” Seth said.

  She laughed and ate the rest of her meal in silence, thinking about and dreading how she had to take her portfolio to Traevyn later for his inspection. He was so rude. He would probably laugh at her and tell her she sucked. It was nerve-wracking just to think about.

  Seth helped Evie clean up after dinner, which greatly surprised her. She and her brother had always had a pretty typical sister/brother relationship. They didn’t really have much in common. Seth liked video games and heavy metal music. He was your average rebellious, mouthy, lazy, seventeen-year-old boy. Evie was an artist. She loved anything beautiful. She was fascinated by color and shape. She also loved poetry and theatre. Those things were lost on Seth.

  For their entire childhood Seth had always found a way to weasel out of chores and stick Evie with them. The fact that he had helped her clean up instead of rushing back to the game console he had brought along made her wonder if he was feeling all right.

  After the kitchen had been picked up, Evie returned to her room, a cold lump of dread quickly forming in her stomach. She took her portfolio, which she had arranged three times, and clutched it in her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will her courage to come back. Sure, she was brave beating a gong and demanding money, but showing her life to the Lord of the Dark Tower was a completely different story. She was vulnerable when it came to her work and, whether he was heinous or not, he was still the greatest artist of all time. She knew he could slay her with one unkind word and that thought terrified her.

  She took a deep breath and forced herself to start down the hall. She would get nowhere standing in her room. Once she reached his hallway, she stopped, trying to steel herself again. She didn’t even know where he was. She hated that she had to go looking for him. It was annoying. If he wanted to see her portfolio, why couldn’t he come and find her?

  She headed down the hall and stopped at his office again. The door was half open and an amber glow was coming from the room, casting a misshapen shadow on the floor of the hall. She frowned and peered in a little. She blinked in surprise and couldn’t help but stare. Traevyn was sitting in a brown leather chair reading a thick book by candle light. His ebony hair fell all around him like a blanket, and the light cast intriguing shadows across his face. It highlighted the dramatic lines and shaded the hollows, making him look even more menacing and, yet, very sensual somehow. He reminded her of a medieval knight sitting in his castle. She swallowed and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He was magnificent…

  She shook her head and forced air into her lungs. What in the heck was she doing? Had she lost it? She raised her hand to the door and knocked lightly.

  “Yes?” his erotic voice called.

  Evie shivered, then frowned. Good lord, what was wrong with her? She surely hadn’t thought his voice was erotic earlier when he had been snarling at her. The man was a nightmare. Why was she marveling at his beauty and shivering at the sound of his voice? She opened the door with caution and stepped in, clinging to her portfolio like a lifeline. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding,” she murmured.

  He glanced up at her and arched an eyebrow. “A little late for courtesy don’t you think, gong mistress?”

  She cracked a smile and thought she might have seen the slightest twinge around his lips as well. “Why are you reading in the dark?” she queried.

  “I prefer candle light to electric. Electric is harsh and false. It hurts my eyes at times.”

  She blinked. “Can you go out in daylight? I mean, you don’t, like, turn to dust or anything?”

  He heaved a sigh and closed his book, meeting her eyes. “Do you have a purpose in being here, Miss Austin?”

  She smiled in amusement. She couldn’t help it. She nodded. “You told me to bring you my portfolio.”

  He nodded. “Let’s go into my studio.” He stood and started toward her. “Also, you may use the computer in this room for whatever you need.” He brushed past her and continued down the hall.

  Evie followed. Her hands shook and she hated herself for it. Traevyn led her into the room across the hall. He turned the light on to reveal a room choc full of canvas, paints of all sorts, and any art supply anyone would ever need. It was a dis
aster, chaotic and disorganized. It made Evie smile. It looked just like her art room.

  Traevyn hastily pushed aside the random papers, paints and charcoal pencils on his desk to clear a spot. He held his hand out to Evie. “Let me see it,” he demanded.

  She hesitated a moment, then held it out to him gingerly. He took it and opened it, beginning to study the first piece. Evie couldn’t watch. She turned and began to look around at the paintings in the room. Many were in various stages of being finished. She marveled over his use of color and how his paintings were so vivid. Even the dark ones seemed to resonate with life, like he had managed to capture his very soul and the canvas was actually living and breathing. She made a slow circle around the room, losing all concept of time. She wished she could just walk into one of his paintings and never come out. Each one looked like a doorway to a fantastic and magical world.

  At the far end of the room was the painting that hung in the SOU foyer. She stopped in front of it and sighed. “I love this painting.”

  She saw him glance over at her out of the corner of her eye. “The chaotic cauldron of my creative drive?” he said, his voice flat.

  She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “I never saw that. No matter what my teachers tried to tell me. I mean, art is supposed to be open to interpretation, right? I always saw something different.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Oh really? And what did you see?”

  She ignored the fact that he sounded highly skeptical and almost sarcastic. She shrugged. “I don’t know. To me, it always looked like a man screaming.”

  His head jerked up and he stared at her.

  “Everyone’s always said it’s a reflection of passion, but it never looked like passion to me. Why would you choose such dark shades to portray passion?”

  He made a slow turn in his chair and placed his hand over his chest, as if his heart was beating strangely. “What do you think it represents then?” he asked, his voice hushed.

  “Torture, torment, the worst kind of pain and sorrow. I mean, the way the black shades swirl together here, they form a distinct shape. I don’t understand why no one can see that.” She shrugged and looked down, suddenly realizing what she was saying and feeling stupid. He probably thought she sounded like an idiot. Here she was, a junior art student, contradicting what people who were much more proficient than her claimed. She turned back around and was surprised to see him staring at her with an intensity she found more than unnerving. She averted her eyes and stuffed her hands in her pockets, rounding her shoulders in the way a shy little kid on the playground did. “What?”

  He dropped his gaze back to her drawing, and clenched and unclenched his fists a couple times. He cleared his throat. “Nothing,” he rasped. He shook his head. “There is no denying that you are very skilled. You have a unique style that should make your work stand out. I do notice that you have more pencil sketches than anything else. Why is that?”

  She looked away. “Painting intimidates me,” she murmured.

  He frowned. “Why? The paintings you have in here are quite good. Who are your influences?”

  She gave a meager smile. “You, mainly.”

  He cast her a brief glance, but said nothing. “We will have to work on this strange fear you have of canvas and paint. Leave this here. As you will be working in here, it would be ridiculous for you to have to keep toting it back and forth.” He stood. “I cannot give you a set time as to when we will work. I work when inspiration comes and no sooner. However, when you wish to work, you do not have to ask my permission. Come in here whenever you like, but leave your projects so I can see them in their various stages. I will do the same for you.”

  She nodded and followed him back out into the hall.

  “Goodnight to you,” he said.

  She turned down the hall, her fingers still toying with her belt loops nervously.

  “Miss Austin,” he called.

  She turned back to look at him.

  He hesitated. “You were right.”

  She frowned. “About what?”

  “My painting.” He looked down for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “No one’s ever understood it. No one’s ever seen it.”

  “Seen what?” She didn’t quite understand what he was talking about.

  His pale eyes fixed on hers. “The screaming man. The one in pain. No one’s ever seen it until…you. Until tonight.”

  Her eyes widened. “You mean…?”

  “Hundreds of people claiming to be art connoisseurs, art teachers, other artists. None of them saw. You did.”

  She stared at him in shock and awe. She opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t. She had been right about that painting? When everyone else much more experienced than her had said something different? She shook her head. “Mr. Whitelaw, I—”

  “Goodnight, Miss Austin.” He turned and strode up the hall, disappearing into the room at the far end and closing the door. She stood there in stunned silence for a long while before turning mechanically and walking back to her bedroom, trying desperately to process what had just occurred.

  Chapter Five

  Evie was going to die. She was sure of it. How did people clean houses for a living? She had already been cleaning for seven hours. That was an entire day of work. Her back was screaming at her. Luckily, she only had Traevyn’s wing left to do. His office, bedroom and bathroom. She had been given strict instructions not to touch the studio, which she could understand.

  When she’d lived at home her parents had always been irritated at her cluttered mess of art supplies and had always cleaned and organized it while she was at school. She’d hated it. It would take her a week just to figure out where everything was. For the most part, creative people were organized in a very disorganized way, and she knew that Traevyn probably had a system that she didn’t want to mess with.

  With a heavy sigh, Evie faced the hallway and lugged her tote of cleaning supplies with her. She was greatly surprised as to how many rooms the house actually had. She had been unaware of the fact that there was an entire basement until that morning. There was a den in it, as well as a wine cellar and another bathroom. The basement was darker than the rest of the house, which was hard for her to believe, and it creeped her out. Though outward appearances suggested it was a room like any other, it really did remind Evie of a dungeon.

  The rest of the house had been pretty self explanatory. Kitchen, dining room, living room, three guest bedrooms, two guest bathrooms and his bedroom and bathroom. She had never seen a bigger house in her entire life.

  She pushed open the office door, plunked her tote down, and set to dusting, taking a moment to study his wide array of books again. She wondered if he’d let her read any of them, or if he would tell her to keep away from his things. Many of them she had read already, but there were many more she would like to.

  Her eyes drifted as her hand mechanically dusted things. His Masters in Visual Arts hung framed on the wall, and there was a picture directly under it. It showed a younger Traevyn in cap and gown, apparently at his college graduation. Next to him stood a young boy who looked somewhere around fourteen or fifteen. He had shorter black hair that waved nicely to frame his face, and he had several piercings in both of his ears. On the other side was another young man whose hair looked like liquid gold. It was quite a contrast to Traevyn’s dark beauty, but his features resembled Traevyn’s greatly. The thing that stood out the most to Evie was the fact that Traevyn was smiling. Grinning, in fact. It looked foreign to her since she had only ever seen his black scowl. His smile was beautiful. It lit up and softened the harsh lines of his face.

  Evie let her eyes scan over a picture directly under the one she had been studying. This one was of the same three people, but it was apparently more recent as the young boy was much older and had tattoos running up the length of one of his arms. It appeared as if they were at a party of some kind, but Traevyn didn’t seem happy like he did in the graduation picture. He was smiling, but it looked fo
rced and pained, like it had taken all of his effort just to muster it.

  She moved on, dusting his desk. There were several pictures turned face down and curiosity nagged at her. She cast a fleeting glance toward the door to make sure no one was around, then picked up the pictures and started to flip through them. They were all of a staggeringly beautiful blonde woman and an adorable little girl who looked somewhere around five. Her hair was golden and her eyes were light like Traevyn’s. She gave a thoughtful frown. This must be Traevyn’s daughter and wife. She suddenly felt like she was intruding and carefully placed the pictures back where she had found them.

  The book he had been reading the night before was sitting on the brown leather chair and she glanced at the title. Les Miserables. Geez, that was an undertaking. She finished dusting and went to clean the glass on the French doors. After making sure they were streak free, she vacuumed the rugs and swept and mopped the hardwood floors.

  The master bathroom and bedroom were her next project. She knocked on the door, just to make sure, then went in. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. The bed was a king-sized, four poster made of dark, molasses-colored wood. The posts stabbed up like carved spires and the bedspread was black with a black brocade pattern on it that shimmered in the right light. The pillows were large and dark blue in color. There was another pair of French doors and dark blue crushed velvet was wrapped around a silver curtain rod and hanging down on either side of the doors. A nightstand sat on either side of the bed draped in black lace, and a beautiful Celtic dragon tapestry hung on one wall. There was an entertainment center, but with no television in it. Instead, a huge vase full of dried roses sat where the TV should be and more books adorned most of the shelves. The top of the entertainment center was draped in the same crushed velvet as the French doors, and dried rose petals were spread around three large pictures of the little girl she had seen in the office. A sharp pain stabbed at Evie’s heart, and she had to look away.