____________

Noriko

 

 

 

I stared around the cavernous gallery, stark walls painted white to showcase each piece. There were dozens of other people here but we all had our space. “Why are we here, exactly?”

Drake handed me a flute of champagne. “To support the charity.” He mentioned earlier that twenty percent of the proceeds of this auction would go to fund heart health research. “Mostly because I want to buy some art.”

I fought not to roll my eyes. “I was just thinking that the walls at home are so bare.”

Drake let out a laugh. Two for two tonight. I was on a roll. “Come and help me spend my money, dear wife.” He placed the tips of his fingers on my bare back and led me through the gallery, pointing out the paintings for auction. I began to relax, enjoying his hypnotic voice as he made his commentary on each piece.

Finally, he directed me to a large painting of lilies on a lake. “And this is a—”

“A Monet.” I gasped. “Oh my God. It’s a real Monet.”

He nodded. “One of his best works, in my opinion. Unfortunately, this painting is only on loan to the gallery and not actually for sale.”

I let out a sigh as I took in the smudges of color and dappled light. There was nothing like seeing a Monet in person. It looked like the artist had figured out how to mix sunlight into his paints and danced it across the canvas.

I felt Drake’s eyes on me. “You like it?”

“I love Monet’s work. Especially the pieces he painted when he was living in Giverny. See,” I pointed, “how he focuses on light and color as opposed to shape and lines.”

“It truly is exquisite.”

I glanced over to him, only to find that he was looking at me. I dropped my arm and folded my hands together in front of me. “You’re not looking.”

“Yes, I am. Perhaps harder than ever.”

I felt myself flushing under his gaze.

“You know about art,” he said. “It’s refreshing.”

I mock gasped. “Why, husband, is that actually a compliment?”

He laughed again, the crinkle around his eyes endearing. “Don’t get used to them.”

“You know a lot about art as well.”

“I’d like to think I’m a connoisseur of beautiful things.” The way he was looking at me made me feel like he’d given me another compliment. I blushed and look away. “Did you study art in Japan?” he asked.

“No.”

Drake tilted his head. “But that’s what you wanted to do.”

I nodded, sighing. “I enrolled in international business instead.”

“Why?”

I shrugged.

“I see,” he said solemnly.

“Do you?”

“As the eldest, especially without any brothers, you are expected to be responsible for your family.”

I gaped at him. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” He nodded across the room to someone he must have recognized. “I do business in Japan often, Noriko. I understand the pressures that must have been on you.”

It wasn’t often I found myself so…easily read. Even stranger, that this rude, cold, arrogant man had been able to do it.

“As my wife, you do not need to do anything you don’t want anymore,” he said, startling me with his accented Japanese, still managing to make it sound like a melody from his lips.

“You speak Japanese?” I replied. To use my native tongue felt like a gift.

“Only enough to butcher it thoroughly,” he said with a smile.

I smiled back. “I think you speak very well.”

“You’re just being kind. Tell me,” he said, switching back to English, “why do you love Monet so much?”

I chewed on my lip, wondering how much I should reveal. “I like to think that he can teach us a lot of life through how he views his art.”

Drake’s stare grew even more intense, like he was studying me. “What, exactly, do you mean by that?”

“Well,” I turned to face the painting, feeling like if I held his gaze any longer I might forget how to breathe. “You know he painted the same scenes over and over again, including this one, during different times of day and different seasons. He never got bored of the same scene, because he understood that the difference can be appreciated in even the slightest change of light. He understood that we don’t always need more or new, but to view the same thing with new eyes.”

Drake was silent for a pause. “How…insightful.”

My eyes couldn’t help but draw to him again. He seemed to be searching my face, looking harder than anyone ever has before. I felt naked, raw. Like I had unwrapped my soul and laid it out for him. Before I could change the subject, before I could tear my eyes away, he spoke. “When I’m stuck in a problem,” he said, “I like to remember Monet.”

I frowned. “How so?”

He walked behind me and placed his hands around my hips. I sucked in a breath as heat radiated through my body from where he touched me.

“What are you doing?”

“Just…go with it.” After a pause, he added, “Please?”

He actually asked for once. I nodded. I let him gently push me forward until I was inches away from the painting. He stepped in close behind me until his front was flush against my back and his hands slid around my waist.

Oh God, he was so close. So everywhere. His heat, his scent, his presence like fire.

His touch was causing all sorts of strange twists and sparks in my body. What was happening to me?

“What do you see?” he whispered in my ear. Heat cascaded down my body, pooling into a hot cauldron between my legs. My knees trembled. I was glad he was holding me up.

Focus, Noriko.

I took in a shaky breath. “I see…” thick splotches of paint, violent slashes of color, smears, ridges, swipes, dabs. I sucked in a breath as his lips grazed my neck. “Chaos.”

Drake lifted me suddenly like I weighed nothing, my heels rising up off the floor. I let out a small yelp and struggled, even as a part of me reveled at being so helpless in his thick arms, thrilled at his obvious strength. He strode back, back, back…until—

“And now?”

I saw…the whole picture.

Drake set me down gently. I could feel the eyes of the patrons around us, some in amusement, others in disapproval. For the first time in my life, I didn’t care what anyone else thought.

I slowly turned to face him, my soul light and aching from this realization. Almost toe to toe, I came up to his lips in these heels. I had to tilt my head to look at him. He seemed more stunning than the last time I looked at him. So beautiful it was almost inhuman. “That’s brilliant,” I said. You’re brilliant.

Who would have thought that this cold, workaholic bastard could be such a deep thinker. And to love art… Something squeezed in my chest.

His hand came up, his fingers brushing my cheekbones. That one touch had me leaning into his palm. He flinched and his gaze darted to his hand as if he only just realized what he was doing. “You…um, you had an eyelash.”

“Sure.” I tilted up my chin, offering him…I wasn’t sure what.

His fingers grew surer, sliding around to the back of my neck. I held my breath as his eyes dropped to my lips. He leaned in and—

“Drake.” A male voice caused us to jolt apart.

A rush of heat rose to my cheeks. If we hadn’t been interrupted… My stomach twisted up in knots.

Underneath it, there was a cold trickle of relief.

Don’t get too close to your husband, Noriko. You’re only his wife for one year.