Page 14 of Tears of Ink

“You must be working on a final project? Next year will be the big pieces, right?”

“How do you know so much about it?”

Another shrug. “So how’s it going?”

“Terrible.” There’s no point in lying.

“Maybe you’ll let me see?”

I shake my head. “Not a chance.” Finding the will to move my stubborn legs, I step up from the table. “This has been different.”

He stands and holds his hand out again. His mummy must have trained him well. “We don’t seem to have got along.”

I chuckle a small laugh. “No, I’d say not. Maybe your mother can call when she gets back and then we can see how this might work. I’m guessing you have other people to see, maybe your meetings will go more smoothly with them.”

He inclines his head. “Maybe.”

“Good bye, Elijah,” I straighten my shoulders and swing my hips for the door, keeping my head held high.

That was fucking weird.

It’s only when I’m on the sweaty bus home, I realise I’ve forgotten my portfolio.

Shit.

C H A P T E R F I V E

“I can’t believe you sent me out to the lion’s den like that.”

Gerard has his hand on the front door of the studio, but I’ve got my foot against the door. I’m too cross to be making small talk with him at the moment.

Bloody Elijah Fairclough. Gah, the gall of the man. ‘We don’t seem to have got along’.

I don’t know why it’s burned under my skin so bad. Let’s be real, he’s not the first guy to say those words to me. Normally, though, I like to say them first.

“It was The Ritz, not London Zoo, Faith.” Gerard tries to peer around the door. I know he wants to see my project, but right now he can kiss my arse.

“Tell that to Elijah Fairclough, the guy is seriously lacking in social skills.”

Gerard snorts loudly despite the fact he’s standing in the hallway. “Says you.”

I narrow my gaze and then swing the door in his face. I can hear him sigh through the wood. “Get my portfolio back,” I shout after him, before walking back into the studio and staring at the tragic mess I’ve made.

It’s unsalvageable. I’m going to have to order new materials. Turning slightly, I stare at the canvas covered in blue.

Fuck. It’s been an obsession the last two days.

Blues everywhere in everything. I even bought a blue orchid today. Not that I can afford fancy flowers or have the ability to keep them alive.

It’s all shit.

I can’t stop thinking about the pensive expression on his face as he watched me across the table. I can’t stop remembering that low rumble of his voice, or the way his body packed out that expensive suit.

So, in fact, I can’t stop thinking about him.

Player, he’s a player, Faith. A rich one.

But he seemed so serious. There was this quiet something about him. I can’t work it out.