Tempted by Fate (The Fate Trilogy Book Two) (7 page)

“It was nice of Mr. Draper to give us the day
off.”

I nodded. “We’ve only ever seen each other at
the mansion,” I told Karen. “It seems kind of strange for us to not be working
together.”

At Victor’s suggestion, we went to an
expensive boutique at the edge of town, and right when we headed through the
door we were bombarded by a salesperson greeting us.

“How can I help you?” the woman asked as she
walked up to us.

“Oh I—” This was the first time I had walked
into a clothing store since I had lost my memory; Victor was the one who picked
out clothes for me to wear and he was uncannily good at it. Now faced with the
task on my own and surrounded by so many items of clothing, I was starting to
become a bit overwhelmed. There were too many options to choose from but I wanted
to make sure I was dressed appropriately for my first gallery opening. “I’m
looking for something dressy, but not too dressy…but also casual, but not too
casual.” I scratched the back of my head sheepishly. “I hope that makes sense.”

The salesperson smiled reassuringly. “Don’t
worry, I get that all the time.” She gestured with her hand, “Follow me, I
think I know a skirt that will look fantastic on you.”

I raised my eyebrows at Karen and she gave me
a supportive smile as we followed the woman to the back of the store. I
shimmied around racks of clothes lined up like little armies only to be
bombarded by a wall of skirts, blouses, and dresses.

The salesperson took a skirt from a rack and
held it up to me. It was a moss green cotton material, high waisted and cropped
just above the knees. Near the hem were small embroidered flowers. “We can pair
this with a white top, perhaps something a bit sheer, that you could wear a
camisole underneath. Try this.”

“Okay,” I said as she handed me the clothing.
I tried the outfit on in the fitting room, stepping out to show Karen when I
was finally dressed.

“It looks like what you wanted,” she said,
looking at my outfit from the top to the bottom. “Are you happy with it?” She
must have noted the hesitant look on my face.

“I don’t know, do you think it’s formal
enough for a gallery opening? Do you know what Victor will be wearing?"

Karen laughed. “I’m sure he’ll be in his
usual suit. What’re you so worried about?”

“I just want to look nice.” In reality I
didn’t want to embarrass Victor or to stick out in a crowd of fellow artists. I
gave myself a once-over in the fitting room mirror and decided that I couldn’t
depend on Victor to dress me forever—for once we would be at a social function
with people I could relate to. I was determined not to let my skirt be the one
thing they remembered about me.

Twenty minutes later we were out the door, my
new outfit neatly folded in a large shopping bag. Karen and I decided to take
advantage of our outing and stopped by a small Italian bistro for lunch.

After we ordered our food, we chatted a bit.
Although we saw each other every day, we really hadn’t had a chance to sit down
and get to know each other more since my first few days of living with Victor.

“How’re things going?” she asked me. Her eyes
crinkled at the corners as she smiled.

Did my mother’s eyes do that?

“I’m… happy,” I told her. “And maybe a bit
confused.” I wasn’t worried about revealing too much to her. I knew that
whatever I told her wouldn’t leave the restaurant. “Victor has shared so much
with me, yet somehow he remains distant. I’m pretty sure he cares about me, but
he’s never said it.”

“I think he’s confused,” Karen said. “I know
he’s a kind man at heart, but ever since he was a child he’s had an air of darkness
about him.” She leaned forward. “How do
you
feel about
him
?”

I closed my eyes and pictured Victor; the way
he would kiss me on my head, the way he spoke to me, the exotic, yet passionate
way we have sex. I realized that I always looked forward to seeing him. “I
think I’m beginning to fall in love with him,” I said slowly. “If this tingling
feeling inside of me whenever I think of him is any indication, then it must be
true.”

“Have you ever thought about telling him?”

“I did while we were in Paris, in so many
words at least.” I toyed with the cloth napkin on my lap. “And my feelings have
grown even stronger, but he hasn’t mentioned anything about it since. Even if
he does have feelings for me, I’m just his... employee.” I believed that Victor
didn’t see me as just his maid, but it would be my own fault if I convinced
myself that our relationship was anything more than an arrangement.

“You would be surprised by how much he’s
changed since you’ve arrived.”

I felt a heat creep into my cheeks, nervous about
what she might say. “Really? How so?”

Karen leaned back in her chair, her eyes
becoming distant. “Before you moved in we would barely see him, unless he
needed something from us. And when we did see him, he would never laugh,
wouldn’t even crack a smile.” Karen reached across the table to grab my hands.
“And then you came along. I really noticed it when you got back from Paris. Mr.
Draper seems a lot happier; he talks to us more, cracks jokes now and then, and
he smiles. I think you’re good for him, Dove. Don’t give up on him.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her words, even
though I didn’t know if they were true. One thing was for certain, though: I
wasn’t sure if I could give up on Victor even if I tried.

***

Victor and I arrived at the Lotus Art Gallery
at seven thirty, a half hour after its opening, but the place was already
packed with people. Women in long, elegant dresses gathered near the cocktail
table while men in suits greeted each other with an air of familiarity. I felt
slightly out of place until I noticed that dozens of paintings hung against
white walls with bright lights underneath illuminating them. I remembered the
trip to Paris and the afternoon Victor and I had spent at the Louvre. I felt
now the way I had felt then: awestruck. I was envious of the artists who were
lucky enough to have their work on display, but my admiration of them
overshadowed any jealousy.

“This is amazing,” I muttered, more to myself
than to anyone else, but Victor overheard me.

“I knew you’d like it.” He placed his hand on
the small of my back and guided me toward the wall of paintings. “I’m going to
say a quick hello to someone, I’ll be right back.”

He left me standing in front of a massive
experimental piece, its neon colors swirling in and out of another, creating a
tornado-like image against a black background.

“What do you think of this one?” A tall woman
who appeared to be in her late thirties appeared next to me adorned in a beaded
silk gown. She towered over me in her heels and I tensed up at the idea of
critiquing someone else’s art.

“I think its bold.” I felt like that was the
safest response.

“Go on,” she encouraged.

It was clear she wasn’t going to back down
until I gave her my honest opinion so I considered the painting for a moment
longer, secretly hoping that she wasn’t the artist. “I think the use of neon
was smart, it immediately draws the gaze, but I’m not sure it should have been
set up next to a still-life. The contrast makes the focus of the gallery look a
little confused.” Before I’d even finished my sentence, my cheeks grew hot with
embarrassment—I wasn’t qualified to be making any judgements.

“That’s an excellent observation,” the woman
said as she turned to me and reached out her hand. “I’m Marissa Jones, the lead
art director of Lotus.”

My jaw clenched in horror as I shook her
hand; I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “Ms. Jones, I’m so—”

“You know, we could really use a sharp eye
around here,” she cut me off. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the
other pieces in the gallery.”

“My thoughts?” I asked, shell shocked.

“Yes! Currently, we only have a part-time
position available but I like a girl who speaks her mind.” Marissa laughed.

I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I was
eager to become a bigger part of the art world in San Francisco, and I
certainly wanted to put my knowledge to good use, but Victor and I had an
agreement—in exchange for food and shelter, I was supposed to work as his maid.
If Marissa offered me the position, it wouldn’t really be up to me if I could take
it. And what if he did let me take it? I wasn’t sure I could work my first real
job in two years and still give him the kind of attention the contract
demanded. There definitely wasn’t a clause that would let me off the hook for
being too tired or too busy for sex, and, honestly, I didn’t want to be off the
hook. Our sex life had reached a whole new level—I had never really known what
it was like to have my mind blown until my first experience in his bedroom.

But I wanted the job, I was excited about the
idea of being surrounded by art all day every day, and I couldn’t deny that.

I asked Marissa if she could give me a minute
and walked over to Victor, hoping he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of me
working outside of the mansion.

“I think Marissa Jones might offer me a job,”
I said bashfully.

“You think or you know?” he asked, turning
away from the crowd he’d been talking to and leaning in to me.

“She says they have a part-time position
available and wants to hear my thoughts on the exhibit. If I impress her, I
think she’ll offer.”

“I was hoping you’d have a chance to show off
some of your knowledge tonight. Don’t keep her waiting too long.”

“Wait, you’re okay with this?”

“You’re not my prisoner, Dove. If you want
the job, I’m not going to stand in your way.” He smiled at me and nudged me
back toward Marissa.

I spent the next hour offering my opinions on
the pieces in the gallery and made a few layout suggestions. I practically
kissed Marissa when she offered me the job at the end of the evening.

Dove the maid was out. I would be an
assistant curator of the city’s newest art gallery from now on.

The week before my first day in the office
was filled with activity. Because he was a prominent and wealthy man, Victor
had to attend many social functions. This wasn’t anything new to me, but the
fact that he wanted to take me to each and every one of them was. As I watched
him tirelessly weave in and out of conversations, I realized that he sometimes
made sudden trips to places like Paris to escape from it all. I admired his
ability to remain so composed at every single function. If it hadn’t been for
his hand in mine, I would have felt like hiding.

Whatever Victor was doing at work was causing
a lot of press, so there were cameras left and right whenever we arrived at
parties.

People seemed to be interested in me during
our first few outings, and Victor would tell them that I was an artist working
for the Lotus Gallery. I guess I didn’t know how prestigious the gallery was
until the cameras were pointed in my face. I was thankful that I took extra
care to make sure my liquid eyeliner was symmetrical on both sides considering
that my face would be splattered on celebrity news TV or tabloids.

“I haven’t even started working yet,” I
whispered to Victor as we ducked into a large bar on Market Street, finally
escaping the paparazzi. We found a table and ordered drinks to unwind from the
earlier intensity of the evening.

“These people are fishing for stories.
They’re not going to care about the little details, unless the little details
are interesting enough.” I had to admit that it was nice to finally be
recognized for my own work and not for being the woman on Victor’s arm.

“Have you been in the tabloids?” I asked
hesitantly. I wasn’t sure why I’d never thought of it before; Victor was one of
the wealthiest people in America, of course the media would be interested in
him.

“More than I’d like to admit.” I imagined a
smartly dressed Evelyn standing proudly by Victor’s side on the front page of
the “Enquirer” but quickly pushed the thought from my mind.

“All this talk about my job is making me
nervous for my first day.” I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for the working world
after spending so many years jobless. I didn’t think my experience recycling
cans was going to help me much in an art gallery, and my time as Victor’s maid
wasn’t exactly conventional.

“They get hundreds of applicants at Lotus,
they’re not going to take just anyone,” Victor said.