Thirty Nights (American Beauty #1)(29)

As he caresses the chaise, he asks again, “Do you want me to use the furniture as part of the message?”

“The message?”

“Yeah. Every painting has a message. Given the furniture choice, this one is easy. She can stand or she can sit. Stay or leave. Or she could lounge for a while. What do you prefer?”

I grin proudly like a PTA mum. Javier knows his art.

Aiden measures Javier. “You’re the artist. I’ll be interested to see the resolution myself.” He gazes at me then, and his words from earlier ring in my ears. I shouldn’t. Is that it? A compromise between should and want? Is that the fantasy he is asking Javier to memorialize?

“All right.” Javier nods. His eyes squint and focus on the chaise. I’m willing to bet my next thirty days that he does not choose it. It’s too obvious for his style.

“Now, some business details,” Aiden says. “Of course, you know Feign is expecting payment for this painting even though it’s obvious who the real artist is. I’m sure you agree it’s best not to give him reason to retaliate against either you or Elisa.”

A shiver runs through me. Aiden is right. If Feign doesn’t get something for this, he would report Javier to ICE for theft. Javier swallows hard—his own fear well masked under his politeness.

“He said he pays you a salary,” Aiden continues. “But we all know that’s a lie. So I plan to pay you the same commission that I’m paying Feign—”

“Mr. Hale, no—” Javier starts to protest but Aiden puts up his hand to stop him.

“I want you to take what you deserve, Mr. Solis. On this point, I will not negotiate.”

I want him. Right here, right now. Not because of the money but because he gave Javier some recognition. I know what that means to Javier. One look at his face and I see the same appreciation I feel.

“Thank you, Mr. Hale.” Javier looks self-conscious, his eyes drifting to his polished shoes.

“My pleasure. Now, given your circumstances, I’m sure you understand that’s a significant amount of money to be paid under the table. I’ll consult with my lawyers about the best way to handle it, but for your part, from a legal standpoint, it would help if you thought of the painting, not as work, but as a gift to Elisa and myself.”

I tingle at the sound of him and me together. Javier’s forehead creases—did he hear what I did?—but he nods.

“A gift then,” he says.

Aiden nods back, but his eyes are on me. Thank you, I mouth and he smiles.

“Ready to strike a pose?” Javier says.

“Yes,” I answer with a smile, determined to make this as easy for everyone as possible.

“All right, lean back on the chair,” he says. I was right. Not the chaise.

“A little farther. Yeah. Relax your left arm along the armrest. No, not like you’re falling over. That’s good. Now grip the other armrest with your right hand like you’re propping yourself up. Yeah, like that. No, don’t cross your legs. Point your toes toward the door,” he instructs, his artist eye following each move.

Javier’s Rule Number One is to leave enough vagueness for the viewer to find his own message. And this pose fits that philosophy like a glove. I can’t wait to ask him about its meaning but he won’t tell me with Aiden here. Javier’s Rule Number Two is to never disclose his own interpretation of his art. I am the only exception to that rule.

Javier fidgets until he has me where he wants me. I peek at Aiden. But it looks like he has exchanged places with the dragon again. His eyes are trained unblinking on my feet pointing to the door. The rest of his posture emanates tension waves like scaly wings.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he spits out and strides out of the room before I can say…anything. And, thankfully, before Javier could notice the furious eyes. Benson follows him at his customary, three-feet distance.

Why was he angry? Which interpretation did he see in the pose? Whatever he saw, was it the one he wanted? I draw a deep breath. Well, tonight, I’ll do my best to convince him that, if I could, I would not be sitting in this chair but rather lying on the chaise, for as long as he would have me.

Javier continues to roam about, setting up the easel, deciding on perspective, but he does not speak.

“So, that was very nice of him to pay you as well as Feign?” I start.

“Yes, very nice.” Javier sounds a little off.

“Are you okay?” I ask as he measures the height of my chair.

He pauses and looks up at me. “Are you?”

I smile. “Yes. It’s been a good day for a change.”

He watches me for a moment and then takes a deep breath. “Be careful, please. He seems kind of intense. I don’t know—something’s off.”

“Like what?” My voice is both defensive and curious.

Javier’s forehead crumples, and he squints his eyes like he is looking at an image. “Like he is too desperate for this or something.” He shakes his head as though the image eludes him.

Desperate? Aren’t we all desperate for our fantasies?

“Anyway, just keep your distance. It’s going to be bad enough without all this.” He waves his hand around the room.

I shiver and clutch my sheet tighter. He is right, as always. But today is demon-free. “I’ll be careful,” I say quickly. “Now tell me, what’s the plan for this?”