Portrait of Jealousy (The Art Models Club Book 2)
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Authors: Amanda Meadows
PORTRAIT OF JEALOUSY
The Art Models Club – Book 2
by
Amanda Meadows
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, organizations, or products is entirely coincidental.
PORTRAIT OF JEALOUSY
The Art Models Club – Book 2
by
Amanda Meadows
Copyright © 2014 Amanda Meadows
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under reserved copyright, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by an means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the express written permission of the publisher.
Yellow Rose Publishing
Cover image by Patrizia Tilly, licensed at Fotolia.com
Table of Contents
Books in The Art Models Club Series
It was one of those nights when everything about life seemed uncomplicated. Amber Holloway and her boyfriend Hunter Webb had just finished dinner and were relaxing together on the sofa. Amber had just been thinking how wonderful life was. The previous month she was starving in a tiny apartment that she couldn't pay for. Fast forward three weeks and here she was, sitting in this beautiful apartment, on an expensive and cozy leather sofa, across from an incredibly handsome guy who also just happened to be insanely wealthy.
Not that the money mattered to her. She would have fallen for Hunter no matter what. In fact, she had not even known he had money when she first met him. Now, incredibly, she shared an apartment with both Hunter and his lifelong friend Caleb. She even had a job as a grocery cashier, allowing her to pitch in for at least food. It wasn't much but Hunter had insisted she live there rent free just as Caleb did. It was an odd situation that she didn't bother thinking about too closely.
To be honest, she couldn't have even dreamed of a better scenario the previous year when she first decided to leave her unhappy home and transfer to Higgins college. Tonight, Amber sat on one end of the sofa reading a book while Hunter sat on the other end sorting the giant pile of mail that had piled up in a wicker basket by the door. Soft jazz played in the background. Could life really be this uncomplicated?
“
Junk, junk, bill, junk, bill,” Hunter muttered.
Amber looked up with a smile. She knew he probably wasn't even aware he was speaking out loud. It was one of his cute habits. As Amber watched him, feeling content, she suddenly noticed his torso stiffen. She sat straighter herself, her own body taut.
Hunter took a deep breath as he held up a small airmail envelope, festooned with foreign looking stamps. And in that instant, though it was inexplicable, Amber got a feeling of dread. She could have never explained why, but she suddenly knew that whatever was in that letter could change everything.
Amber put down her book.
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
For several moments Hunter didn't say anything.
“It might be nothing,” he said at last, grinning at her. “Probably just a rejection letter.”
“
A rejection letter from who?” Amber suddenly felt cold.
Hunter gave a short laugh.
“Okay, this sounds a little nuts but a few months ago I applied for an internship in France. I figured it was one of those one in a million shots. But my mom told me I should apply anyway.”
Amber swallowed hard.
“Wow, an internship. Sounds exciting!”
She wondered if Hunter could tell that her cheerfulness was forced. She peered at the thin envelope, suddenly feeling nauseated.
Hunter took a deep breath and bite his lower lip before opening the envelope.
He wanted to go, Amber thought. Even with her here, he clearly still wanted the internship.
Hunter slowly slid open the envelope and a very thin slip of expensive stationary slid out along with a waft of perfume. The bulk of the letter was typed but there was a small bit of elegantly written script at the end.
Amber watched Hunter's face. When his smiled widened, she felt torn between wanting his happiness versus her own selfish desire to keep him here with her. It was wonderful seeing him look so happy. But if he left, where did that leave her?
“Good news?” she asked at last, willing herself to smile.
“
I got it, Baby! I got it!”
Hunter stood and began to jump and dance around the room.
Amber stood and grabbed him, giving him a huge hug and a kiss. But he broke away after a few seconds and began swinging her around the room. Then he dropped her back onto the sofa and danced around the room again.
“
I can't believe it! They accepted me!”
His voice was filled with pride and wonder.
“She says that it took longer than they expected because they had over a thousand candidates this year.”
She? Who was this mysterious she? Amber fought to control her dismay. She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to be supportive.
“Wow, that's incredible that you got chosen from all of those other people.”
Hunter finally collapsed on the sofa. He took the letter, smoothed it out, and read it again.
“I was one of the few candidates from the US that speaks fluent French. They're trying to attract more Americans to their museum.”
Amber felt her mouth flop open.
“You speak fluent French?”
Hunter looked up for a moment as though trying to pay attention to her.
“Yeah, I'm actually a dual citizen. My mom is from France and she met my Dad in graduate school. After I was born, they decided to live here because of Dad's business.”
He smiled and his face looked soft and happy. “While my grandparents were alive, I spent most of my summers there.”
“Wow. Oh, wow.”
Amber suddenly felt as though Hunter was in some sort of league of his own. She had barely passed her high school Spanish classes.
“So, um . . .how long is the internship?”
“
Twelve weeks,” Hunter said, his face radiant. “This is going to be so great!”
Twelve weeks? Okay, okay, she could live with twelve weeks. Couldn't she? Amber bit her lip and tried to look enthused.
“Oh, Amber, I'm such an idiot!”
Hunter bolted upright and scooted across the sofa.
“I wasn't thinking at all about how this makes you feel.”
He pulled her close and gave her a long kiss.
“You'll still be my girl, right?” he asked anxiously. “I know twelve weeks must seem like forever but I'll rush right back to you, Baby.”
Amber had to blink back tears of relief. He really did care.
“Hey, I'll have time to earn enough money to take you to a really fancy restaurant when you get back,” she said, trying to smile. “And you'll have to wear a fancy suit and tie.”
Hunter sighed, clearly relieved. He kissed her again and then hopped up from the sofa.
“I should really call my mom,” he said. “Do you mind? I'll call from my bedroom so I don't disturb you.”
“
Of course not!”
Amber forced her frozen lips into a semblance of a smile. As she watched Hunter pad into his room, she realized that she didn't even know when he was leaving. She started to get up and follow.
But then she saw the letter, the object of all her sudden distress, lying on the coffee table. Feeling guilty, she scooted over to where she could see it without picking it up. She kept looking up, half expecting to see Hunter returning. She didn't want to look like she was spying. But the reality was that she had to know all the details.
With a wary glance at Hunter's bedroom door, she turned the letter so that it was facing towards her. Sitting on the very edge of the sofa, she opened a large art magazine and placed it over her lap. It was a lame excuse, sure. But if she just picked it up without asking that would be clearly wrong. Defiant, curious Amber wanted to read the letter in secret. Good girl Amber insisted that she should simply get her sorry ass up and go ask first. In the end, Bad Ass Amber won out.
The first thing she saw was the stationary heading with a woman's name. Isabelle Lebas. Was this the woman that Hunter would be working for? Even without picking up the letter she could smell the perfumed stationary. Isabelle obviously had no qualms in sending perfumed stationary to a new employee. For a second, Amber almost didn't read the letter. Hadn't Hunter given her every reason to trust him? Hadn't he trusted her from the very beginning when he trusted so few people?
Good Girl Amber moved away from the letter, feeling chastised. But then she thought of Isabelle and Hunter working together. Speaking French together. Wasn't French known as the language of love? What exactly was this internship anyway? Bad Ass Amber had to know!
Hell, surely Hunter had simply forgotten to read the letter out to her in his excitement. Bad Ass Amber argued that Hunter would want her to know all the details. Good Girl Amber argued that once again she was showing how little she trusted anyone. Bad Ass Amber told Good Girl Amber to go to hell. Sliding forward, she glanced once more at Hunter's closed door and then pored over the letter.
The typed portion of the letter read: “Dear Hunter, Apologies for the lateness of a response. I read with interest your application for the internship position at my studio. Your portfolio was intriguing. As you know, the gallery I am working with is trying to attract more Americans. Your fluency in French was unique and certainly helped your resume. With your acceptance, the position will start the beginning of November. Although I regret that we can not offer you transportation, your room and board will be covered, along with the small stipend indicated in the application materials. Please respond as soon as possible. Sincerely, Isabelle Lebas.”
Below the typed script was a small personal note: “Dear Hunter, Unfortunately, the only student housing units are a half hour train ride from the studio. However, I am pleased to offer you a small, comfortable room in my own home. You will find it is within walking distance to the studio. Best, Isabelle.”
Amber stood and moved lethargically to her room. The perfume was making her head ache. She wasn't worried about having to move out. Hunter had already implied that she would simply be waiting for him. But who was this Isabelle Lebas? How old was she? Was she married? Who else lived in the house? Amber knew these were preposterous questions brought about by her own securities. She knew she shouldn't be jumping to any conclusions. This was a wonderful opportunity for Hunter. So why did she feel like it was the end of he world?
Amber slipped on comfortable pajama pants and wandered back into the living room. She could hear Hunter banging around in his room. Curious listened outside his room to check to see if he was still on the phone. When she didn't hear him speaking, she knocked softly.
Hunter came right to the door looking disheveled and uneasy.
“Oh, I thought maybe you had gone to bed early.”
He heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.
“Sorry if I'm making too much noise. I can't find my passport.”
“
Oh, I was just reading. But I forgot to ask when you were supposed to leave.”
Amber licked her lips nervously. Not only did she read the letter but now here she was, easily coming up with a lie.
Hunter had already turned and was rooting through a drawer bursting with paperwork.
“
Hmm? Oh, I'll try to arrive the week before I start. So probably the end of October.”
He sighed, yanked the entire drawer out and dumped it upside down on the floor.
“Sorry, Amber, but I've got to find this tonight.”
“
Sure, no problem.”
Amber backed out of the room, thinking maybe if she paused long enough that he would ask her to help. Maybe celebrate finding the passport with a wicked night in bed. But Hunter was already in his search zone. It was as though he was already operating from a different place than she was.
