25. Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Five
Emilia
T he next three days are all but a blur.
A mix of food deliveries, random playlists, energy drinks, and small cat naps on the couch, floor, and even on my stool in the studio.
I haven’t showered or brushed my hair or teeth.
I can’t even remember if I applied deodorant.
I’ve ignored countless calls and texts from Javier–seriously, that man needs to get the fucking hint.
I’ve barely spoken with Silas, aside from a couple of updated progress photos sent via texts, to which he has only reacted with thumbs up.
I’ve managed a few stolen moments here and there to text Vincenzo, trying to keep it brief, and thankfully it seems like he has had a lot on too with the whole vandalism at the worksite thing.
The day after our night together, I came downstairs to get the Thai food delivery and found a small package of lemon biscotti on the galley counter, with a note that said
You really need to be more careful about locking your doors, kitten . Someone dangerous could get in.
Strangely, I know that I had locked the gallery door, and it was still locked when the delivery guy arrived, but I took his warning to heart and triple checked all of the doors each time I came down from then on.
I decided to save the lemon biscotti as my reward when I have completed the Monet, and the job is behind me.
But it’s his late-night flirty texts, requests for another date, and offers of ‘more’ that helped me to push through the exhaustion and painter’s block.
His sexy ‘just out of the shower with only a towel on’ pics nearly made me order an Uber.
Seriously, the guy is a damn fine specimen.
I’m actually pretty impressed with my restraint, it’s not a quality I usually have.
For the most part though, my focus has been on this damn Monet.
As I sit and stare at the finished piece, my pride swells.
Is it my best work? Absolutely not. But it’s still a damn fine forgery.
More than that though, I’m proud of myself for being able to move forward.
The process has been cathartic. Honestly, I hadn’t been entirely sure I would ever be able to paint again after my father’s death.
I’m a little ashamed to admit to myself that I’ve been using Vincenzo as a distraction, and an excuse to put off having to find my passion again.
But now, I know that despite the hole his death has left, just like when we lost my mother, time, and finding passion and joy in the world again, can heal all wounds.
Selfishly, I’m also more than a little proud that I completed the piece a full twenty-four hours before the deadline!
I celebrate by having an almost hour long shower, and a full bottle of my favourite shiraz.
With the night free, I know I should eat some real food and crash for at least twelve straight hours, but when I pick up my phone to order some real food, my screen lights up with a text.
I miss the feel of your skin, the taste of your mouth, and the sound of your pleasure. When can I see you again?
Well, when he makes an offer like that, how can a woman refuse? I am celebrating after all…
I just finished my commission actually, so I could be persuaded to make myself available to you ;)
Come to my place. I want to feed and fuck you all night.
My face flames at his bluntness. And I’m more than a little tempted, but I still have to finish boxing the piece once it dries, and I know if I go to Vincenzo’s, I will just lose track of time again. I can’t afford a stumble right at the finish line.
That offer is more than a little tempting, but I still have some admin I need to get done. How about dinner out instead? My treat! And we can save the proper celebration until tomorrow night when I am all done?
As I watch the three dots dance in the reply box, an incoming call cuts across the screen to steal my joy. I want to hit the ignore button, but it is time to rip this band-aid off once and for all.
“Javier, hi. I’m sorry I haven’t been free to respond these last few days, I’ve had a tight deadline on a commission I needed to get on top of.”
“Emilia, I have been more than patient, yes? I have been more than understanding. I have waited and waited for you, sitting around like a little puppy waiting for scraps,” his voice sounds strange, distant, and not himself.
“Javier, you have been lovely, and I really enjoyed our time together, but I explained this the last time we spoke. Things between us are just not going to work out. We don’t fit.
And you deserve someone who can give you more than I can.
My life is not going to change. My attention and priority will always be on my work. ”
His cold, humourless laugh throws me.
“Work. That’s where your priority has been?
I didn’t realise you were moonlighting as a whore.
” My jaw drops at his words. I’m so stunned I can’t even respond.
“If I had known all it took to get your attention was throwing more money at you, I would have done it ages ago,” he all but screams down the line.
“What the fuck, Javi? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t act all coy now, bella . You and I both know that your focus has not been on your art, but on a certain mafia heir who is not yours to enjoy!”
“How the hell do you know about Vincenzo? Javier, are you having me followed?”
“Don’t make it sound so unreasonable, Emilia.
You stopped taking my calls and responding to my texts, of course I checked in to make sure you were okay.
So, you can imagine my surprise when I get sent pictures of you in a club, out and about in the city at cafés, when all you say to me is that you are grieving and need time.
You need to focus on your art. How would you feel seeing this, huh?
” His clear rage distracts me from his words for a moment.
“We broke up, Javier. I ended things with you, multiple times. I have tried to be kind about it, let you down easy, but you are just not listening to me.”
“We are over when I say we are over, Emilia. You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of.”
The familiar threat takes me back to our previous conversation. How had I forgotten? I really have been far too distracted. But his demands and threats only serve to enrage me in return. Fuck this shit, I’ve absolutely had it!
“You are not my boyfriend, Javier. You never were my boyfriend. We had a couple of dates and some shitty sex. I’m sorry that you were clearly more invested than I was.
But hearing this, hearing you now, I am fucking glad I pulled the rip cord because you are fucking crazy, dude!
Lose my number, because I will be blocking yours,” I practically scream down the phone, then hang up.
Before I can go into my contacts and block his number as promised, my screen lights up again with his name. I reject the call. He must have me on speed dial because it takes another three rejected calls before I actually manage to get through the settings to block his contact. Fucking psycho.
I slam my phone down on the couch and go to take another large gulp of my wine only to realise the glass is empty.
With a sigh, I get up and go to the kitchen to hunt for the next bottle, but the empty wine rack reminds me that it was the last one.
For fucks sake, which God did I manage to piss off today! Hateful creatures.
My phone pings with an incoming text, and I glare at the back of it accusingly.
Surely, if I blocked Javier’s contact, he can’t text me, right?
Another ping and I grab it aggressively, the phone almost slipping out of my grip from the fast movement.
Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t have any more wine, I think I might be a little tipsy already.
Did you fall asleep on me, little Picasso?
Shit. There are three more unread messages from Vincenzo. I didn’t hear them come through while I dealt with the Javier disaster. Vincenzo suggested a couple of nearby restaurants, but is waiting for my reply.
Sorry, I got a call. Thai sounds great! Want me to make a reservation?
No, I’ll take care of everything. How is 7p.m.?
Perfect, I’ll see you then x
Can’t wait x
A little fresh air will do me the world of good in the meantime, and hopefully sober me up before my date, I grab my air pods and head out for a walk.