When he painted the last one, the dealer handed us both our part of the money and then offered us a chance at another commission. He wanted Michael and me to fly to Paris with him and live in this big artists’ retreat, so that the country could give Michael inspiration and help him create even more masterpieces with me in them. We’d happily agreed. I had no reason not to. Although Michael flirted with me, he never violated his promise. He kept his hands to himself.

But Paris changed everything.

Other artists offered me their business cards, gave me presents, and out and out begged me to work with them. Most said it was a matter of time before Michael’s talent would fade away. I ignored the others, stayed loyal to him, and soothed him in his darkest moments. I loved him even more by then, but wouldn’t admit it to myself. It was inevitable that we would make love under a cloudless night full of stars and drunk on red wine.

He finished his oil series of me wrapped in the colors of Paris—blushing pinks of blooming roses that lay in front of shops, turquoise-streaked blue skies intoxicated with vanilla clouds, crimson red wines, the grays of stone streets that breathed with history and life, tan puffy croissants dripping with butter, and all the violets of love.

Because for me, love was never this hot red color or a faint smear of burgundy.

Love for most people mingled with the glow of rubies and scarlet silks worn by women on the corners of Paris selling their bodies for fame, fortune, or just enough money to get shelter for the night. And love was the color of cherries ripe in the spring. Most of all, love resembled all the colors of red found when one opened up a person’s chest and analyzed their heart. But for me, love was always violet, never red. Because all hearts had a tint of blue. All relationships dimmed under the assault of clouded tears and darkened memories, the black of pain and the rage of cobalt skies, signaling a storm was approaching.

At times, Michael’s love glowed with passionate reds, but most of the time he loved me in the shades of purple so drenched with blues that when we made love, I had no idea if I cried out in pain or pleasure.

In the dream, he asked me where my wings were.

You cut them off. You bastard. But this time I won’t be falling like you figured. I won’t need you to throw me a rope or push over a long ladder. Because I don’t want to reach you anymore. I just want to fall and be free.

A knock boomed at the door.

“Yes?” I called out.

“What’s taking you so long?” Hex giggled. “The party has started. The servers have already handed out the hors d’oeuvres and the wine is getting warm.”

“Sorry. I decided to take a nap, since I had that long flight from California. I’m up now. I’ll be down soon.”

“Fabulous. Don’t forget to wear that dress I bought you.”

“Are you wearing what I bought you?” I smirked.

“Of course, my love.” The last two words came out in a slur.

“Are you drinking?”

“Of course, my love.”

“Well, save me some wine.”

“I’ll do my best.” His footsteps changed from clear to distant.

What would Michael say to my being here? Would he laugh at me or be angry at my disloyalty? It doesn’t matter anymore. For once in my life, the things I do from now on won’t be about him, but about me.

I rushed off to the shower. A giddy sensation bounced around inside me. I would be having my second night of drinking and eating whatever I desired. Michael forbade me from drinking alcohol the moment we became a couple in Paris. He’d said it made skin blotchy, was bad on the liver, and muddied my breath.

It was the first thing he’d forbidden me to do, but it sure as hell wasn’t the last.

Chapter 10

Alvarez

“Go!” Grandma shoved at my stomach. It was almost comical, this tiny woman with gray curls bobbing around as she moved her head and spouted out nasty curses in Spanish. “You’ve been up here all night. The doctor said she’s fine. All the blood is cleaned up. That nice girl, Reece, got you a new nurse and guard. Go!”

I sighed. “I just want to check on Dayanara and make sure—”

“Go!”

“I did leave. I took a shower like you ordered me to do when you first showed up and now I’m back.” I gestured to my black pants and white linen shirt.

“But did you eat or visit your brother at his big party? Even I’ve gone down there to show my face to his friends.”

“They don’t know me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I actually prefer your company over them.”

“Then you’re more lost than I thought. Go!” She hit my chest. “Dayanara is asleep. The spirits have left her alone for tonight. Just in case they return I’m here to ward them off. No one needs you up here.”

Tags: Kenya Wright Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net