Naked Canvas (An Alpha Billionaire Romance)

by Grey, Sadie

  Those girls could have him. Monogamy was a requirement for me, and I sure as hell wasn’t okay with being the “other woman.” We had never talked about whether he was dating someone else. Hell, we barely even knew each other, but still, I just assumed he was a decent human being and that he was single.

  I couldn’t believe I let myself fall for the whole brooding artist thing. Normally, I kept my cool around guys, which was probably why I’d never really had a serious relationship. Still, it kept me from getting hurt. But something about him lowered my guard and overwhelmed my better judgment.

  It was my own damn fault. Wine goes straight to my head and shatters my inhibitions. He kept filling my glass and I kept letting him. I got caught up in the moment. I got caught up in him.

  What’s worse, I didn’t even get paid for going over there. I knew when he offered to pay me two hundred dollars to pose for him that it must be too good to be true. I should have trusted that little voice in my head that repeatedly told me it was a bad idea, but desperation makes fools of us all.

  He probably never intended to pay me. He just wanted to get me drunk and naked and have his way with me. And what a way it was. Despite my anger, being with him felt so good. So right. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that way with anyone before.

  Those sensitive, smoldering eyes were hypnotic and his touch lit a fire in me. It was almost worth not getting paid just to have shared those moments of passion with him. Everything else went away when I was with him. All my problems, all my doubts, all the worst parts of my stupid life.

  That had actually been the worst part. I had really liked him, dammit. There had been more than an attraction there. Something deeper than just a one night stand. Maybe there was a way I could make it work.

  No. I had to stop that line of thinking. I didn’t have to put up with bullshit like that. I didn’t have to be anyone’s second best. Or third best or however many women that bastard lured over to his studio to seduce. I was better than that. Stronger than that. Besides, I had so many more important things to worry about than him. The best thing I could do was just put the whole incident behind me and forget about him.

  I pulled the covers over my head to shut the world out. I told myself that nothing existed outside of my little cocoon. Eventually, I slipped into the forgetful arms of sleep where Dominic Bell did not exist.

  ***

  Apparently, there was no escaping him, even in my dreams.

  I ran naked through a dark hallway that never seemed to end. A light at the end of the hall shined like freedom, but it only seemed to grow farther away with every step. I could feel him right behind me. His smoking blue eyes scorched my back. His hot breath teased my neck.

  My legs pumped faster until my lungs burned and my muscles ached. No matter how fast I ran, I could not outrun him. His feet slammed against the floor in a pounding rhythm. Thud thud. Thud thud.

  My body jerked awake. My limbs were tangled in my sweat soaked sheets and I gasped for breath.

  Thud thud thud.

  Someone was knocking on my apartment door. My heart started to pound at the thought that Dominic had found me.

  The glaring green numbers on my alarm clock said it was eight in the morning. Whoever was banging on my door this early was putting their life at risk. Hell hath no fury like a woman whose sleep is interrupted. I flung myself out of bed and threw a robe over my gnarled up pajamas.

  “Alright!” I yelled. “I’m coming already.”

  I swung the door open with a dark expression on my face. “What?!”

  An older gentleman in a crisp dark suit was standing in front of me. He looked apologetic as he sheepishly held out a manila envelope with my name emblazoned across the front in thick, black marker.

  “Package for you, madam,” he said, unable to look me in the eyes.

  “Oh.” I snatched the envelope from him. “Thanks,” I said vaguely and closed the door on his face.

  What fresh hell is this, I wondered, as I tore open the top of the envelope. An eviction notice? A letter saying I got kicked out of school?

  I stood in the center of my cramped living room and slipped the contents out of the envelope. My face scrunched up in confusion. It was a stack of photographs. Photographs of me. It took a second for my mind to catch up with what I was seeing.

  There was one of me smiling. One of me laughing. One of me drinking a glass of wine. These were the pictures that Dominic had taken of me last night. I guess he had found me after all. I threw them on my couch in disgust.

  I considered crawling back into bed and never leaving it again. It was only eight a.m. and the day had already turned to shit. I knew I would never get back to sleep, though. I was too pissed off for sleep. I stomped into my kitchen and made an angry pot of coffee.

  What game was he playing at, sending me those photographs? Did he really have to torment me? Wasn’t last night’s embarrassment enough? I scrubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the comforting sound of the coffee percolating into the pot.

  It’s just you and me, coffee. You and me against the world.

  When it was ready, I poured myself a steaming mug. It felt warm and familiar in my hands. I weaved my way back to the living room through scattered piles of books and papers strewn about the floor. Now that the spring semester was nearing its end, organization and neatness were low on my list of priorities. I would clean up after finals.

  I sank onto the couch. The movement sloshed coffee over the rim of the mug, scalding my hand. I made a sound like a pissed off cat.

  I sighed. I knew I should have gone back to bed. I placed the mug on my cluttered coffee table so I didn’t fling it across the room. My eyes inevitably strayed to the photos splayed out on the cushion beside me.

  I gathered them up, telling myself I was just going to look at them to see how bad they were. I just wanted to confirm that Dominic was a shitty artist. It wasn’t like I missed him or anything. I looked down at my face in black and white.

  I barely recognized myself, even though the picture had only been taken the night before. A wide smile beamed on my face. I looked positively radiant. My eyes twinkled with joy and mystery and life. It was hard to believe that had been me less than twenty-four hours ago.

  Picture after picture, I loved the woman I saw staring back at me. I loved her so much more than the woman sitting on the couch inside my own skin.

  It reminded me of the first time I saw the sketch that Dominic had made of me. I saw parts of myself that I never saw when I looked in the mirror. He found something in me that was hidden to everyone, including myself. Only he knew it was there. Only he could draw it out.

  Tears stung my eyes again. So fucking what? I can’t be with him anyway. Why torture myself about it? I had met the man of my dreams and gotten fucked, literally and figuratively. I needed to chalk it up as one of life’s painful lessons and never look back.

  I flipped bitterly to the last photo. It was a photo of him. This was one of the pictures that I had taken. My heart broke all over again when I saw his image staring back at me. He was so perfect. He was an asshole, yes, but still perfect.

  Two slips of paper were clipped to the corner of the last photo. I plucked them out of the clip and looked at the first one.

  It was a check made out to me for two hundred dollars. In the memo line it said: “I didn’t forget.”

  I breathed in a heavy breath and smiled through my tears. Maybe he wasn’t a total asshole after all.

  The second one was a note. All it said was “Please let me explain.”

  The smile evaporated from my face. He would probably have a great explanation. Some story that would explain everything and make me feel silly for reacting the way that I did. A story that I would desperately want to believe. But I knew I could never believe him. Not totally. There would always be a part of me that felt like a fool for going back to him.

  I shuffled through the stack again. Each photo sparked a glimmer of emotion in me. Joy. Regret. Longing.
>
  I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, still clutching the stack of pictures in my hand. Deep down, I already knew I was going to call him. I just had to let my brain catch up with my heart.

  Chapter 6

  I wasn’t quite ready to hear his voice again. Something about that deep baritone made me melt like wax, soft and pliable to his whims. I decided to text him. I needed that electronic distance between us. That way I could keep emotion out of the equation.

  Angie: I got your pictures.

  I called them pictures instead of photos. It was my way of belittling them. My way of showing that I didn’t care about them. He responded almost instantly.

  Dom: Did you like them?

  I didn’t like them. I loved them. But I’d be damned if I was going to admit that to him. I decided to ignore the question altogether.

  Angie: You said you wanted to explain.

  Atta girl, I thought. Stay strong. Stay in control. He was the one who messed up. Not you.

  Dom: Yes.

  Angie: So explain.

  Yes, just the right level of bitchiness. I wanted him to feel my anger through the phone.

  Dom: Not over the phone.

  Angie: I don’t want to see you.

  Dom: I know. We should meet anyway.

  The nerve of this guy. Fine, see if you like this.

  Angie: So you don’t care what I want? My feelings mean nothing?

  There was a long pause before he responded. I had him on the ropes now.

  Dom: I’m sorry that I hurt you.

  Angie: I’m sorry too.

  Dom: I just want the chance to talk. Even if you can’t forgive me.

  I waited to respond, letting him sweat.

  Angie: Fine.

  Dom: Meet me at the studio.

  Angie: No.

  Dom: Coffee?

  Angie: When?

  Dom: An hour.

  Angie: Where?

  Dom: I’ll send a car to pick you up.

  Whoa.

  Angie: That’s not necessary.

  Dom: It’s already waiting outside.

  I shook my head. What the hell was going on?

  Angie: Awfully presumptuous of you.

  Dom: I like to have all the options covered.

  Angie: Just like you do with women?

  Dom: That isn’t true. Please come meet me.

  Angie: Fine.

  I clicked my phone off and headed for the shower.

  ***

  The car stretched out along the curb in front of my building like a panther waiting to pounce. It was all slick lines and shiny chrome. I smoothed my gray pencil skirt over my hips and walked over to it, unsure whether to just climb in or what.

  The older man I’d yelled at earlier at my apartment door sprang from the driver’s seat at my approach. He still wore an apologetic look on his face as he greeted me.

  “Ms. Cooper, I have been instructed to offer you a ride to your meeting with Mr. Bell.”

  He nodded and tipped his hat to me. The gesture felt old timey and sweet. He pulled the back seat door open and gestured me inside with a sweep of his arm.

  “Madam.”

  “Thank you.”

  I slipped into the car and just about drowned in the supple black leather seats. They cushioned every part of my body as if it had been designed specifically for me. I almost purred at the luxurious comfort of it.

  The driver resumed his position behind the wheel and eased out into traffic.

  “Where are we heading?” I asked, wanting to make sure he wasn’t taking me to that damn studio which I had sworn I would never go back to.

  “The Centennial Café.”

  I knew the place, although I had never been inside. It was close to campus, but it seemed too expensive so I always walked past it. Dominic was pulling out all the stops. He could try to impress me all he wanted. It wouldn’t change the way I felt.

  A hushed silence hung in the car. The noise from the bustling street didn’t penetrate its tinted windows. I’d ridden in a few cabs in my day, when I could afford it, but I’d never had my own private car. I cruised by the people walking along the sidewalks with harried expressions, and I felt like a movie star.

  “So do you work for Dominic or what?” I asked, mostly to break the awkward silence.

  The driver’s eyes flicked to the rear view mirror to look at me. “Mr. Bell? Yes. I have been in his employ for several years.”

  Mr. Bell? It was weird to hear someone call him that. He was only a few years older than me and a rumpled looking art student to boot. Yet this man had been working for Dominic for years? Something didn’t add up.

  “I’m confused. You work for Dominic?”

  “Yes, madam.”

  “Are you his driver or his messenger?”

  “I tend to many aspects of Mr. Bell’s life. Anything that he requires.”

  “What am I missing? Is Dominic rich or something?”

  “I really couldn’t say, madam.”

  I nodded. Of course he wouldn’t tell me anything. The man seemed like a loyal servant. Something occurred to me.

  “Hey, I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. You caught me at a bad time.”

  “Not at all, madam. My sincerest apologies for interrupting you.”

  Even though he had dismissed my apology, I felt his attitude toward me shift. The mood in the car became considerably lighter.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Ahh, Cavanaugh, madam.”

  I smiled. “Alright, Cavanaugh. Please call me, Angie. Madam is way too formal for a gal like me.”

  “Certainly, madam. Ahh, Angie.”

  I giggled. “Much better.” His eyes crinkled in amusement. “You have any family, Cavanaugh?”

  “Not any more,” he said. “I was married once, but sadly, Mrs. Cavanaugh passed away many years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It’s quite alright. And you?”

  “I have a brother I never see. My parents passed away a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, as well.”

  “Thank you. So how do you like working for Dominic?”

  He paused for a moment, as if unsure whether to answer. “I like it very much, actually. I used to work for his father until he passed away.”

  So Dominic came from money. That made a lot more sense. It’s easy to live a carefree artist’s life when you’re spending Daddy’s fortune.

  “Were you and him close?”

  “No, I don’t suppose so. I was more of an employee to him. Not like with Mr. Bell.”

  “You two are friends?”

  “I’ve known him since he was a boy. He’s more like family. Like the son I never had.”

  “Right on.”

  “Are you two dating—” he cut himself off. “My apologies, madam. I forgot myself. That was an impolite question.”

  I flashed him a warm smile in the rear view mirror. “Relax, Cavanaugh. It’s fine. And please call me Angie. To answer your question. No. We’re just friends. Well, not even that come to think of it. Business acquaintances, I guess.”

  “Well, I don’t like to meddle in people’s private affairs, but if you don’t mind me saying, I think that’s a shame. Mr. Bell could use a nice woman like you in his life.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “That’s sweet of you to say, Cavanaugh, but that’s just not in the cards.”

  Chapter 7

  The car pulled up in front of the Centennial. Warm golden light spilled out of the place and into the muted colors of the street. Cavanaugh jumped out and opened my door. I struggled out of the back seat, doing my best to not flash my panties to Cavanaugh as well as the pedestrians on the street.

  “Thank you, Cavanaugh.”

  “My pleasure, Angie. I hope to see you again soon.” He tipped his hat to me.

  I smiled at him. “Me too.”

  He disappeared into the driver’s seat, and I stood alone looking into the Centenni
al. The café was full of trendy looking people sitting at polished wooden tables. I saw no sign of Dominic. Of course he was going to make me wait. Typical. At least I could pick our table. Something out in the open would be better. Something that didn’t feel intimate.

  I strode into the café and approached the hostess. She was thin and pretty and draped in fine silk and wool. She made me feel out of place in my simple clothes like I was a country mouse invading the city mouse’s territory. It wouldn’t have bothered me so much if we hadn’t been about the same age. In another world, the cute, stylish girl in the fancy café could have been me.