CHAPTER TEN
ANIKA
When my eyes open, I’m not exactly sure what day it is. All I do know is that I haven’t gotten nearly enough sleep. I was up late last night watching Gossip girl reruns. Which I’m very aware sounds slightly pitiful but you haven’t lived until you’ve watched six seasons of super rich kids living in the Upper East Side and all the drama comes with their lives.
Anyway, the only people I was expecting at my door were either my parents or my brother. The last person I expected to see was Nathan Wolfe. He’s standing on my doorstep, wearing black slacks and a black shirt that shows off his sexy arm muscles. His long brown hair is well groomed as always, not a single one out of place.
Seriously, I want to run my hand through his hair. My hand twitches every time I’m around him because of that compelling thought.
I blink out of my perusal to notice his eyes are also in the middle of a slow perusal of their own. I feel my body heat from the weight of his dark gaze on me. The things I want to do to this man. Or at least the things my body thinks I want to do to him. My mind still very much agrees with me that we don’t like him. Which is why him being here makes absolutely no sense at all.
“Are you lost?” I question.
His brow furrows, “What? No. I’m here to see you.”
“You’re here at the crack of dawn to see me?” I say in disbelieving.
“It’s 9am. What do you mean, crack of dawn?”
I groan softly, “It’s the crack of dawn to me, Wolfe. And you’re disturbing my beauty sleep. What are you doing here?”
He stares at me like I’m some kind of alien element that he doesn’t understand. Finally he clears his throat, muttering something indiscernible under his breath.
“Can I come in? Please.”
I consider the request for a moment. If he came all the way here then it must be important, and we can’t very well have a conversation on my doorstep.
“Fine. But only because you asked nicely,” I say, stepping aside to let him walk into the house.
He enters, his body briefly grazing mine in the process. I suck in a soft breath as his scent surrounds me.
Fuck. Am I really sure I want to be in enclosed quarters with this man?
I close the door before walking into the house after him. I notice his gaze moving about, studying the walls as he walks toward the living room.
“Nice painting,” he points towards an original Canaletto mounted on the wall.
It’s one of the most expensive things I own. A gift from my brother for my twenty-fifth birthday.
“Thanks,” I say and before I can help myself, I’m spitting out facts he probably doesn’t care for. “It’s the entrance to the Grand Canal in Venice. It was painted in the 18 th century by an Italian artist named Canaletto.”
“You know your art,” he notes appreciatively.
“ Of course I do.”
Art’s what I was made for. I used to live, eat and breathe art growing up. Which is why I’ve been telling myself that the break I’ve taken from it in the past couple years has been necessary. I’m just terrified that it might be permanent.
“That’s good,” he says, eyes wandering around the living room.
I wonder what he’s thinking about it. My humble abode. I’m sure it in no way compares to the places he’s lived in.
“Seriously, Wolfe, you’re creeping me out. What are you doing here?” I question.
He offers me a small smile before taking a seat on the couch. I arch an eyebrow, “Making yourself at home?”
“You neglected to offer me a seat,” he points out.
I roll my eyes, “You’re such a snob.”
“And you also haven’t offered me anything. Is this how you treat your guests?”
My jaw tightens, “Dude, I just woke up to find you on my doorstep making an unwelcome visit. Manners are the last thing on my mind.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he states.
That makes me pause. Did he just apologize? Okay now I’m really worried.
“I really am here to speak to you about something important,” he continues. “How about I make us both coffee while you head back in your room to freshen up. Maybe you’d like to change?”
I’m pretty sure I hear a faint note of agitation in his tone. When I glance down, I quickly realize that the attire I’m wearing isn’t exactly appropriate for present company. I cross my arms over my chest, huffing out a breath.
“There’s a coffee machine in the kitchen. I take mine with milk and two teaspoons of sugar. You’ll find everything you need in the cabinets and the milk’s in the fridge,” I tell him before whirling around and heading into my bedroom.
I’m a little flustered. As soon as my door shuts, I release a breath. Seriously, what the hell does he want?
When I return to the living room, he’s seated again holding a mug and taking a sip of coffee. My cup has been placed on the table on top of a coaster. He looks completely at ease, in control. I wonder what it would take to make him lose it. All that carefully carved control.
I sit on the chair adjacent to the couch after grabbing my cup of coffee.
“I hope it’s alright. I can’t remember the last time I brewed coffee,” he says, piercing dark eyes fixed on me.
I take a sip of the hot liquid, reveling in the way it warms me up while also kicking my senses back into function.
“Yeah it’s fine. Well done, Mr. Billionaire,” I say raising the mug in his direction. “Now let’s get down to business. What do you want? And why couldn’t it wait until during the day?”
“I’m a very busy man, Miss Cameron. And it is during the day,” he retorts. “Forgive me for not realizing you’re not like the rest of the adult population that’s already awake by 9am.”
“I smell judgement in that statement. Sleep is important!” I say defensively. “People need to sleep in order to function properly.”
He huffs out an amused breath, “Kara’s always saying that too.”
“Your daughter’s a smart eight and a half year old,” I say in agreement. “Are you intentionally stalling?”
“No,” he says on a sigh. “The truth is, I’ve given it another thought-”
“Given what another thought?” I ask impatiently.
He scowls, “Let me speak, woman.”
“Sorry.”
“As I was saying. I’ve given it another thought and I think your sister was right. It might be a good idea to bring you on to help out with the art exhibition at the community center. You can provide a unique insight and considering your vast knowledge on art, your help would be greatly beneficial.”
I stare at him once those words settle, a little dumbfounded.
“Are you serious?”
“Very.”
“I thought we agreed my sister was batshit insane for suggesting that idea?” I state.
“I’ve thought it over,” he replies. “It doesn’t sound so crazy to me.”
“Well then you’re batshit insane,” I accuse. “We can’t work with each other. We hate each other. Half the time I spend in your presence, I’m thinking about punching you in the face.”
His lips turn up in a smile that makes his eyes lighter, “And the other half?”
“You don’t need to know,” I mutter. “And we’re absolutely not working together.”
My tone has a note of finality in it but Nathan doesn’t even blink. He keeps that confident unaffected air, staring at me almost calculatedly.
“Tell you what, how about we start over?”
“Start over?” I repeat wearily.
“Yeah, before all the bad blood. We both said things we regret. I’m sorry for how I acted and the things I said at the wedding. Can we please move on from all of that?” he asks earnestly.
Okay. Now I’m suspicious.
“What do you really want?”
“I told you. I need your help with the exhibition. I think I was in over my head thinking I could do this alone.”
“Do what alone exactly? What does the exhibition you’re planning entail?”
He hesitates, lips thinning like he really doesn’t want to speak. But he doesn’t have a choice. I need to know what his motivations are.
“Have you ever heard about the Phantom Collection?” he questions.
“Yeah of course I have. They’re pretty popular in the art world. Officially there are 11 paintings in the collection, attributed works. No one knows who the artist is and the paintings have an almost incorporeal element to them which is where the name Phantom comes in.”
“So you know them well,” Nathan notes.
“I do, why?”
“I’m hoping to acquire the entire collection for the exhibition. They’ll be displayed permanently at the center’s gallery once it’s been opened.”
My eyes widen, “Are you serious?”
“I never say anything I don’t mean, Anika,” he states.
“Right. It just sounds insane to me. The Phantom art works are scattered across the world. I’ve only been able to see two at private exhibitions I attended when I was younger.”
“I have five in my possession.”
I sit up straight, “Are you-”
“I swear if you ask me, ‘are you serious one more time’, Cameron,” he grits out.
“Sorry,” I whisper, leaning back to take all of that in. “Which ones do you have?”
“The Phantom Nurse, Sea, Rose, Window and Bridge,” he lists out.
“Wow,” I whisper. “Can I see them?”
I’m actually excited. About art. That hasn’t happened in a long time. But the Phantom’s are a big deal to me. I wrote a paper in my third year of college detailing the themes used in each work and the message I think the artist had been trying to portray with their art.
“You can. If you decide to work with me,” Nathan states.
That kills my excitement fast. My smile drops and I let out a sigh.
“I’m not interested in art anymore,” I mutter.
“What do you mean you’re not interested anymore? I wasn’t aware artistic talent could be turned on and off.”
I scoff, “Artistic talent?”
“Anika I’ve seen your paintings. You’re practically a prodigy. Why did you stop?”
My jaw tightens. I’m officially no longer interested in this conversation.
“I think you should leave now.”
“I wasn’t done.”
Oh, the nerve of this man.
“Yes, you are. This is my house and you’re not an invited guest. Therefore I’m well within my rights to kick you out,” I say firmly.
He doesn’t look pissed just disappointed. He gets to his feet and I follow suit. I feel raw for some reason. Like I’ve been carved open. Spending time with Nathan Wolfe does that to me for some reason.
“We’ll talk later,” Nathan says. “You know where to find me. Just think about it, okay? You have until tomorrow.”
I glare, “You have a hard time accepting the word, no, don’t you?”
“There’s no such thing as no in my world, sweetheart,” he says cockily. “See you tomorrow.”
He leaves the house and I’m left standing there wondering what the hell just happened. A couple minutes after his departure, I hear the doorbell ringing. I get to my feet wondering if he forgot something but it’s only my mom on the other side.
“Hey,” I greet, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “Why didn’t you just come in?”
“I left the key at home,” she replies, walking past me into the house. “It’s a good thing you’re awake. I was fully prepared to deal with you being grumpy because I disturbed your beauty sleep.”
“Someone else already beat you to it,” I say low enough that she doesn’t hear.
“Have you eaten yet?” she asks from the living room.
I walk in to find her taking off the shades on the top of her hair. And the jacket she has on as well.
“No,” I reply. “Where’s daddy?”
“He’s already on his way to the airport. Remember, he said he was going to New York to check on Emilia and catch up with a couple of his old friends.”
“Oh yeah. Forgot about that,” I murmur. “So you’re here to hang out with me because your husband isn’t here?”
“Exactly,” she says on a smile. “Hey, honey, was someone here?”
I notice her gaze fixed on the two coffee cups on the table. My eyes flutter shut in annoyance.
Damn you, Nathan Wolfe.
“It was no one, mom,” I try, hoping she’ll drop it.
But the woman I’ve known all my life would of course not do that. Her brown eyes narrow suspiciously.
“Tell me the truth, Anika.”
I groan softly, figuring I might as well come clean.
“It was Nathan Wolfe. He came traipsing here uninvited to talk about something.”
Her brows furrow, “Nathan Wolfe? I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I don’t.”
“And yet he’s paying you visits this early in the morning?”
“I know right,” I exclaim. “It’s weird.”
“What did he want?”
“Hmm?” I ask, feigning deafness for a second.
“You heard me, baby. What did he want?”
I sigh, deciding to take a seat. I have a feeling this conversation isn’t going to end up in my favor.
“He wanted to talk to me about working on the art exhibition at the community center.”
“He did what?!”
My mother’s eyes widen and she slowly lowers herself onto the couch as well.
“Nika, that sounds amazing. I was talking to Emilia the other day about how I thought it’d be really nice if you could get involved with Carson’s project. The center is being made for people like you to flourish. I was hoping it would bring you out of your shell.”
She notices my expression and pauses, toning down her excitement a little bit.
“I guess I know where Emilia got the idea from then,” I mutter.
“I don’t understand. This is a good thing, baby. It’s exactly what you need,” she says slowly.
My jaw clenches, “No, it’s not. It’s not what I need mom,” I state, getting my feet. “What I need, is to be left alone. I’m fine right now. I don’t need anything else.”
She gets to her feet as well, fixing me with one of those hard stares that used to scare me when I was a kid.
“I’ve left you alone for over a year, Anika. I’ve been patient with you. I’ve tried to understand. On some level, I could understand why you stopped painting. You seemed fine without it, you were happy. And then you broke up with Edward and your sister moved away. I could tell you were struggling. I tried so hard to just be there for you, sweetie. I didn’t want to push you into talking to me about it and it was pretty clear you didn’t want to.”
The muscles in my throat constrict making it a little hard for me to swallow, to breathe. It’s almost like I can feel the imaginary walls I’ve built around myself crumbling. The walls that kept out the truth of my actual emotional state.
My mom steps towards me, her warm hands reaching to cradle my face.
“Oh my sweet baby. It’s okay to be sad,” she says softly.
“I’m fine,” I murmur.
“I know you are. But you can also be great. You can be better. When you had art in your life you were so much happier.”
“Mom, I don’t know how to paint anymore. I-,” my voice cracks, raw emotion pulsing through me. “I can’t.”
“I know,” she nods, her eyes turning glassy. “And you don’t have to. I’m not asking you to paint again, baby. I’m asking you to try to heal. Maybe if you get on the bus again, you’ll be able to figure out what’s causing your block. You can paint again, my darling. I know without a doubt you can do this. Work with Nathan Wolfe on the project. I know Carson wishes you were more interested as well.”
“He does?”
“Yeah he was telling me a while ago about the fact that he had hoped the center would become a special place to you. You know he had you in mind when he got the idea.”
I didn’t even realize my brother felt like that. It makes me feel bad. And he’s right. The old me would have been crazy excited about the center. And all this while I’d been acting like I didn’t even care. And here I thought I was hiding my shit well.
“Do you all talk about me behind my back?” I ask my mother.
She laughs, “We both know it’s all for your own good. So will you take Nathan up on his offer?”
I groan softly, “Mom, you don’t understand. I really don’t feel like the two of us will work well together. The man pisses me off.”
“That’s what Emilia said about Sterling,” she states.
“Yeah and they ended up getting married. We’re not them.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she says with a small wink, walking towards the kitchen.
I simply roll my eyes at the insinuation.
Never going to happen, mother.