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Authors: Tuesday Morrigan

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I want you to love me as much as I love you.”

144

Tuesday Morrigan

Chapter Nineteen

“God, she is so beautiful.” Sela stood before one of his exhibits. It was a two-

part piece of a woman dining in the middle of an outdoor mall. The female and the

mall were two distinct parts of a multiportion artwork.

The woman herself was a sculpture and one of Rome"s greatest

accomplishments. He called her Amber after the golden tone of the original model"s

skin tone.

Amber was so detailed she appeared to be breathing. The first time his agent

saw her, Antonia didn"t realize the woman was a piece of art until she touched her

cold arm. The rich painting behind Amber detailed a mall bustling with life.

Everywhere one looked they could see people enjoying the summer sun captured on

the canvas. Each person depicted was clear and yet not. They purposely lacked the

detail Amber had. In comparison everyone else was a blur. She was crisp with

definition.

Rome was very proud of the painting, but its beauty didn"t compare to the

woman standing in front of him. Sela was a masterpiece of another level.

“Is she?” he asked and waited for her response. It was then that Rome realized

he was nervous. He didn"t understand why. He had achieved critical success. Sela"s

opinion should not have mattered.

But it did.

He cared what she thought.

“Yes, but not just her. Every piece is…” She paused and looked around her.

“Every one is magical,” she said. Then she turned and looked at him. Their gazes

met and held as she pulled him closer. “You"re a damned good artist, Rome. You

have a lot to be proud about. You deserve each and every good critique.” He looked

down at her, feeling passion and something stronger, more intoxicating fill him.

“Thank you,” he replied, his voice gruff with emotion.

A small smile lit her mouth. “Want to know the truth, Rome?”

“I always want the truth, Sela. No lies.”

She sucked in a deep breath at his words. For a moment he feared she would

balk. Understanding lightened her dark eyes. “I won"t lie to you, Rome. Never.”

He hadn"t realized how tight his chest was until the pressure lessened. “Good.

Now, tell me this truth.”

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She looked away and watched the two dozen or so people walking around the

art show. As her eyes roamed over the group, she took in the artwork that filled the

room. “The truth is I"ve been following your career since we graduated.”

He stilled beside her. “You have?”

“Yes, my flat in London has pictures of your work lining the walls. They"re not

much, just printouts from reviews and advertisements. I"m saving up to purchase

one of your originals.” She laughed lightly. “A Vicenza piece is not a small purchase.

I might be saving for my whole life, but…” She trailed off and wouldn"t look at him.

Rome couldn"t believe what he was hearing. He thought she forgot about him

once they stopped talking the summer after high school. He figured he hadn"t

crossed Sela"s mind once in the ten years, but here she was, telling him she thought

of him constantly.

“Sela?” he said softly, unsure of what else to say in response. Words escaped

him at that moment.

She turned to him, but her gaze wouldn"t meet his.

Rome was struck hard by her discomfort. She probably regretted telling him

the truth and was afraid of his response. She bared a little part of herself, and all he

was doing was staring at her. He gave a small smile. “You don"t have to save up for

anything when you know the artist.”

Her head jerked up, and she looked at him, surprise widening her eyes. “What

exactly are you talking about?” she said cautiously.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. “I"ll give you my latest

collection. It was never really meant for exhibition or sale, but something tells me

it"ll be perfect for your apartment.”

She gasped. “Stop lying!” She automatically pulled out of his hold and smacked

his shoulder. It wasn"t hard. He laughed at just how clear her shock was. He hadn"t

expected such a strong response at his gift. It filled him with happiness to know a

gift of one of his pieces did that to her. “I meant what I said. No lies, Cupcake,” he

said with a chuckle.

Sela stilled and watched from beneath the fan of her sooty lashes. She licked

her lips slowly. “So I get the new collection, and you get…”

“The truth, always the truth.”

Rome knew she didn"t believe him, but he was entirely serious. He always

wanted the truth from her. He didn"t think he could handle finding out Sela was

lying to him. People"s lies tore them apart before. He had no intention of seeing just

how much their own lies could hurt them.

She glanced at him, shook her head, and walked forward a little. “That"s not

good enough. Not nearly enough. I don"t know if you know this, but owning your

work comes with a pretty high price tag.”

He followed her lead. His lips curved into a smile at the teasing glimmer of

humor in her eyes. “I"ve heard,” he said and bit his bottom lip to keep from

laughing. “So tell me, Sela, what else do you want from me?”

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Tuesday Morrigan

“It"s not what else I want. It"s what else I want to give you.”

His cock twitched at the words as visions of them together swam through his

mind. It didn"t help that her voice was thick and sultry. Her words, her voice, and

the way she held herself was seduction at its finest.

“Is there nothing else you want from me, Rome?” she said with a smirk and

lifted eyebrow. “Nothing at all.” She lifted her hand, dipping it into the artificial

bubbling brook that stood between them.

He watched her agile fingers glide through the water, remembering their

touch on his body, his chest, his cock…the way they teased the patch of skin just

behind his sac. “That depends entirely on what you want to give me,” he replied, his

voice dark with need.

“Rome?” she asked when he didn"t say anything more.

A searing image of him, brush in hand, standing over her nude body shot

through his mind, taking away his breath. “At the moment…”

She lifted her head slightly, listening intently for whatever he was going to

say. Rome found himself unable to help but smile at her smooth actions. “I want to

paint you.”

She moved her head the tiniest bit. Once again the delicateness of her actions

riveted Rome, even as irritation sluiced through him, dampening much of his

excitement. Sela was not pleased with his request.

She clenched her small fingers into tight fists before thrusting them into the

pockets of her linen slacks. “Why do you want to paint me?”

Her voice was cool, airy, and entirely devoid of emotion.

It sent angry chills down his spine.

“Why wouldn"t I?” he barked out before he got the chance to chain his

emotions. This was the part Rome didn"t like about their interactions. Sela Newton

was the one woman who got under his skin, dived deep with a single word.

She easily lit both his desire and his anger.

“What happened to your models or your muse or—”

He took two steps to the left and walked around the mechanical brook. “Don"t

you think you"re worthy to be captured on canvas? Don"t you think you"re worthy to

be painted, sculpted, remembered forever?”

She lifted her gaze to his chest. “I…but…that"s not what I said. I just think—”

He cut her off. “I want you, Sela. No one else will do. It"s your beauty I want to

capture, your sexuality, your loveliness. Just you. For years I"ve been trying to

capture you on canvas and in stone.”

She swallowed thickly. He watched the muscles in her throat slowly move,

feeling as though time itself stood still. She raised her head and looked him in the

eyes. “Okay.”

He reached for her hand and intertwined their fingers. He started to lead her

away from the Amber piece, but movement caught his eye. He looked a little harder

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and realized he caught sight of a latecomer. He started to turn away, ignoring the

man"s presence when he realized he looked familiar. Christ! His father was the man

striding through the gallery"s entrance, anger tightening every step. Rome felt his

whole body respond to the danger that enveloped every inch of the man. His pulse

raced, his vision sharpened, and his mind focused on Anthony Vicenza.

Sela must have felt the change come over him, because she stilled for a

moment before turning and glancing over her shoulder, looking right at the door.

Her jaw dropped. “Isn"t that your father?” she asked in a harsh whisper.

Rome wasn"t surprised she knew exactly what Anthony Vicenza looked like

despite him never introducing her. The man was infamous in Brushwood.

He had been expecting a confrontation with his father the moment his father

realized Mary Beth was gone and she wasn"t coming back. A part of him wondered

when the man would figure out which hotel he was staying at and come see him.

Rome hadn"t expected the confrontation to happen at his showing.

He realized then he should have.

Anthony always did prefer an audience for his outbursts, and he had the

uncanny ability to make a scene at the worst times, moments that were important

to the focus of his anger.

“Sela?” She didn"t respond.

He glanced down at her and then his father to see how quickly the man would

reach him.

Too soon.

He shook Sela lightly. She turned to him with horror on her face. She knew

exactly what was going to happen, and she was terrified. Like two alphas sharing a

territory, nothing good could come of having two male Vicenzas in the same house.

“Do you remember Antonia?” She nodded as she tried to get a better glimpse of his

father. “I want you to go over there and go stand with her. Tell her I sent you.”

She snapped out of her daze. “The hell I will.” Her gaze flickered behind him.

“I"m staying right here. Right by my man.” She poked him in the stomach.

Reluctantly, he turned just as she whispered, “Remember, you"re in charge here.”

Rome breathed deeply and took in her words. He was not about to let his

father ruin his show. Determination lengthening his stride, Rome walked over to

where his father stood. Beside Anthony stood one guard. The other was a little ways

away but close enough to aid his companion should something happen. Apparently,

the men were good enough to know a situation before things actually exploded.

“What are you doing here?” he said through clenched teeth. His words were

purposely low. Though it was probably moot, Rome hoped to keep the conversation

as quiet and composed as possible.

Eyes tight, mouth twisted, and face red, his father stared up at him for a few

seconds. Then he exploded. “What the hell do you mean what I am doing here?

Where the hell is she, you bastard?”

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Tuesday Morrigan

Rome flinched at the venomous tone and words. No matter how much he tried

to distance himself from his father, it still hurt to be spoken to in such a way by the

man that was supposed to care for him. Wishful thinking. “I have no idea what

you"re talking about,” he lied.

Anthony was having none of that. He took a menacing step forward. “Where

the hell is Mary Beth?” The guards reacted immediately. Both men moved to walk

Anthony out. An upheld hand from Rome stopped them. Anthony glanced around

him. A small, cruel smile spread across his mouth. “What? Don"t want your faggot

art friends to meet me, see me?” he asked.

Anger, hot and wild, flared within Rome. Some of the people in the room were

his closest friends, people who were there when he had no one, and he was not

about to let this man talk about them. He turned to the nearest guard. “He was just

leaving,” he said and strode away. From behind him he could hear his father telling

the guards off and the guards coercing him to leave. He ignored the commotion. As

Sela said, he was the one in charge, and if he didn"t let his father get to him, the

man wouldn"t.

* * *

Sela gazed at Rome, trying to get a better understanding of the man who stood

before her, paintbrush in his large, capable hands. She had learned so much about

him in the last week, she wondered if she had ever really known him.

With each revelation she fell deeper and deeper in love with him. As she stood

before him, waiting for him to put her image to canvas, Sela understood that the

strong emotions she"d felt for him growing up didn"t compare to the all-consuming

emotion that seemed to fill her very soul as she looked at him.

She was treading in dangerous territory, in danger of letting her feelings take

over, but she couldn"t help how she felt.

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