Ruthless Heart

LILY

I wakeup the next morning to an empty apartment. It’s something of a relief to realize that Nero has left. I need the time to clear my head after everything that’s happened, and I know that’s impossible when he’s near.

Getting into the shower, I take my time cleaning my body, enjoying the feeling of the hot water cascading over me. Memories flood back in my mind, the feeling of his hands in my hair… His groaned filthy words… His cock in my mouth.

God, it was so good, even the feeling of running the loofa over my breasts makes my nipples form hard peaks and there’s a pulsing in my sensitive core. He’s driving me crazy, and he’s not even in the building. All I want is for him to come back, set me against the wall and—

Nope. Down, girl.

I put the shower head back and step out of the shower before I can get lost in the haze of desire.

I need to think clearly.

My position is so precarious, being swept up by my hormones is not an option. Not when so much on the line. Getting tangled up with Nero sexually is just about the dumbest thing I could do, given everything else that’s going on, but my body just won’t listen to sense.

I dry off and dress for the day, casual in linen pants and a cute shirt. Catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, though, it’s clear from my flushed cheeks and swollen lips, I’ve only got one thing on my mind.

Dammit. I feel like I’m caught in a war between reason and desire. Logically, I know I need to be playing the angles, figuring how to get this McKenna deal done and get out, but that’s hard to do when I’m with Nero. All the tension between us takes on a life of its own, like gravity is pulling us together.

Blotting out the past—and the uncertainties of my future.

I see glimpses of goodness in him, that’s what makes this so hard. Flashes of tenderness. That possessive concern that makes my toes curl. He’s got the world on his shoulders, and a part of me wants to be the one to make that all disappear, at least for a little while. On my knees last night, seeing the fierce desire in his gaze, knowing I was the only thing that mattered in the world to him in that moment…

That’s the sex talking, Lily. Not common sense.

I snap out of it. Sitting around this loft all day reliving our sexy encounters isn’t going to help me get a grip on the situation. With everything else spinning out of control, I need to feel centered, more like myself again.

And I suddenly get an idea of how I can make it happen.

“Welcome to Roth Art Supply,”a clerk calls over, as I walk in the door. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

I look around at the huge space, aisles packed with paint and canvases, and a million other things besides. I begin to smile. “I’m just browsing for now,” I tell her.

“If you need anything, give me a yell.”

I take a deep breath, and wander down the first aisle, already feeling a hundred percent better. It’s been too long since I did this. I’ve barely picked up a paintbrush in years, but right now, it’s exactly the distraction I need.

I browse for over an hour, loving every minute of it. I load up on various sizes of canvases, paints, brushes, and anything else I could possibly need. I even buy a stool to sit on. It’s the ultimate shopping spree, and the best part is, I don’t even look at prices as I shop. It’s funny, I must have charged Nero’s credit card a hundred times this amount by now on designer clothing and accessories for all his fancy events, but this is the first time I’ve felt almost giddy over the freedom of his unlimited budget.

Finally, I call it a day, and leave the store, arranging to have everything delivered to the loft. When I get back, I take a tour of the apartment with new eyes, looking for the perfect space to turn into my new art studio.

If I’m going to be cooped up in this place for much longer, I may as well start feeling at home.

There are a couple of unused rooms, but when I step into a sunny den at the back of the loft, I know I’ve found the one. The ten-foot-tall windows bring in amazing light, and it has an airy feel that transports me away from the city. I shove the couch to the side of the wall and move some of the stuff to the closet.

There are a couple of battered boxes shoved in the back, and I pause, curious. Everything else in this apartment is so impersonal, but inside, I find a hoard of Nero’s old childhood keepsakes.

I pick through them, feeling a pang of recognition. A little trophy from when Nero’s Little League team won the series championship one year, pictures of him as a boy and teenager, a Transformers toy. They are small things that would only have been held onto if they held some sort of sentimental significance. I’m both surprised that he’s held onto stuff like this, and simultaneously not at all surprised that it’s all been packed away and left seemingly without another thought.

I want to look through all of it, to explore what he deemed worth holding onto, but I’m worried that it will just make me feel more connected to him, reminding me of the boy I used to know. I can’t keep looking at him through the man through rose-colored glasses. It’s messing with my emotions.

It might be hard to reconcile Nero’s past and present, but at least I know who I am. Once the art purchases are delivered, I don’t waste any time getting them set up in my new studio. I position the easel in front of the window, turn on some upbeat music, and lay out my new supplies.

I feel like a kid on Christmas morning, unwrapping all my goodies. Smiling, I decide to play with the oil paints first. As I start prepping the canvas, I can feel something inside of me change. I’m relaxed, everything feels simple again.

I feel like myself for the first time in ages.

Standing in front of the easel, I start sketching lightly with some pencils, starting a base for an image that suddenly pops into my mind.