Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 73091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“For…what?” I asked.
“For the compliment.”
“Oh. You mean…? I didn’t mean…”
He chuckled softly. “It’s mine.”
“What?” My thoughts were a jumble.
“The painting. It’s my work.”
I lifted my brow. This perfect human was an artist? I looked back at the painting for a signature. I didn’t see one, though there was a small symbol at the bottom, like a brand. “It’s fascinating.”
“It’s nice to find someone around here who appreciates art,” he said.
“Oh, I definitely do. I paint myself now and then, though I’ve never created anything so moving.”
“Where did you study?” he asked.
Warmth to the cheeks again. “I…didn’t. I mean, I didn’t go to college.”
He let out a soft sound that sounded almost like a scoff. “Most college art programs are overrated. The great ones aren’t teaching. They’re creating. You’re probably better off.”
“Hmm. I never looked at it that way.”
“What do you see?” he asked me.
“I’m hardly qualified to—”
“You’re looking at it. It means something to you. That qualifies you.”
I stood silently for a few seconds. How could I discuss this magnificent work of art with the man who painted it?
“Go ahead,” he prodded. “I’d really like to know.”
“It’s…dark yet beautiful. The way the brushstrokes—”
“Forget about the brushstrokes. Forget about the technique. Tell me what you see.”
“I see…secrecy.”
“And what do you feel?”
“I feel”—I forced my mind to conjure a word that defined the empty feeling—“wistful, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“No. Wistful is a good word. Almost sad. And I don’t want to feel sad, but when I look at it, I can’t look away. I’m mesmerized. I keep looking for a key.”
“A key to what?”
“I don’t mean a literal key. But there’s secrecy here. Like something’s hiding, and it wants to get out, but…” I shook my head. “I’m probably making no sense at all.”
“You’re making perfect sense. Go on.”
Oh, God. Why had I started this? This man was brilliant, and I sounded like a high school art student trying to impress a teacher. “I can’t find any more words. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry.”
“Did I come anywhere close to what you were going for?” I couldn’t help asking.
“It doesn’t matter what I was going for. What matters is that you like it, that it evoked an emotional response in you. That means I did my job, at least as far as you’re concerned.”
“As far as I’m concerned?”
“Art, as you know, is subjective. What one person loves another might hate.”
“No one could hate this,” I said.
He smiled. More perfection. I didn’t come to work the first day at a new job to have my body react to the first man I met.
But boy, was my body reacting.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Though I’d rather someone hate it than be indifferent. Hate is still a powerful emotional response.”
I stared at him, willing my mouth not to drop open. His words rang so true, yet I’d never considered hate in that way.
I glanced at my watch. Crap. I didn’t want to leave this man, but—
“Uh-oh. I’m going to be late. Nice meeting you.” I turned and walked—
“There is no key.”
His voice. It permeated me as though it had come from within myself.
I looked over my shoulder to catch one more glimpse of the gorgeous artist with more talent in one finger than I’d ever have.
He was already gone.
Lacey stuck her head into my office. “Settling in?”
“Yeah. I still can’t believe I’m working here.”
“Believe it.” She smiled. “We’re all going to be working our butts off until Derek Wolfe’s murder is solved.”
“It’s crazy that all of you are implicated.”
“I know. It’s ridiculous. I’m finally able to sleep at night, as long as Rock holds me. I know I’m innocent, but how can I prove it when the videotape from my apartment is missing?”
“And the others?”
“All their fingerprints are at the crime scene.”
“Why is that even an issue? Especially for Fonda. She was sleeping with Derek, for God’s sake. Of course her fingerprints are there.”
“They’re not leaving any stone unturned, so it’s up to us to figure this out.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, Charlie. The Wolfes have sources the police don’t, and they have a vested interest in proving their innocence. I wouldn’t have taken Rock’s offer to work here quite so quickly if this other stuff weren’t going on.”
“But you would have eventually taken it?”
“I don’t know. I initially resisted. Corporate law isn’t my area, but I’ll learn quickly. And to tell you the truth, writing up trusts all day was getting pretty boring. Plus, I’m a Wolfe now. I need to be here to help Rock.”
I nodded. “Frankly, Lace, I always thought you were made for bigger and more exciting things than writing wills.”
“Yeah, well, corporate stuff will be on the back burner for now. Dealing with the fallout from Derek Wolfe’s murder isn’t exactly the excitement I banked on. It’s becoming downright scary.”
A shiver swept over me. I knew what I was getting into by following Lacey over to Wolfe Enterprises. She’d assured me I could stay at the firm and work for another attorney if I wanted to and there would be no hard feelings.