Chapter 1
I sighed as I squared my shoulders to get ready for another day. Another day, another dollar. That’s my motto. It isn’t fun to be a museum tour guide – at one point, I thought it would be. I was sadly mistaken – but, to be fair, not many people have day jobs that they love. As long as I keep this job, I can keep a roof over my head and work on my art pieces after work.
That’s the thing I need to tell myself to get through another day. One day my work will be loved like Picasso or Da Vinci. I can just feel it down to my bones. I’m going to be amazing someday. But for now, discussing artwork with Museum patrons and giving tours, that’s as close as I can get.
The next tour group is coming in. They didn’t want to be disturbed, donating so much to the museum that I am really the only person here other than custodians and the like. That’s just to give them a tour, and I was told I would get time-and-a-half for working when no one else was working today. Especially because today was technically a holiday. Does Earth day even really count as one at this point? Never mind. Not the point.
The point is, the extra money can go to buying me some new paint, as I’ve almost run out. Sometimes food and shelter have to go over your passion, I paid for food so I couldn’t pay for new paint supplies. That being said, I psyched myself up for whichever clients we would have and their behavior. Rich customers were never that pleasant in my experience. Always willing to mock a chubby girl for her weight, for her curly hair. Her short stature. They were jerks, they knew it too. They knew I would lose my job if I fought back. I just had to grin and bear it.
I looked up upon hearing the door open. There were only three people. One looked to be uninterested in anything going around him. He had the stature of a gorilla and the scowl of one as well. The second was a severe looking woman. She was much shorter and had a wiry stature, but no less terrifying.
The third gave me pause, my voice catching in my throat as I was about to greet this, rather unfriendly, group with my standard bubbly façade.
This is… quite possibly the most attractive man I had ever laid eyes on.
His hair was cropped short and looked curly. He was clearly muscular under the tailored dark blue suit he inexplicably decided to wear on an excursion to an art museum, yet not overly so like the other man. His lips were pink and so kissable, contrasting the soft caramel hue to his skin. His skin was flawless and smooth. With a defined bone structure and the slightest stubble. I wonder what it would feel like tickling my chin as we kissed? He just looked soft and hard and beautiful and handsome all at once.
A subtle sniff to the air filled my senses with this indescribable aroma. It was what I would imagine that money and power to smell like. Completely and utterly alluring. I was halfway to just pressing my nose to his collar and inhaling.
His scent wasn’t even the best part of him.
The eyes of this man are what drew me into him most of all. They glittered like sparkling sapphires, yet seemed to hold so much. Wide and large, beautiful like a child’s but lacking any childhood innocence. They simultaneously said a million things at once and nothing at all.
No! Clarissa. Come on, Girl. Listen to your better nature. For once in your life, control yourself. It’s no good to grow crushes on guys so far out of your league! Has life so far taught you nothing?
“Are you alright?” He arched an eyebrow at me, his lips quirking up in a bemused smirk. Oh, and that chiseled jaw with that stubble. So rugged and manly, yet still beautiful in that aristocratic way that any woman would swoon over. No! Focus.
“Yes, I’m fine!” I declared, before clearing my throat. “My name is Clarissa Carr. I will be your tour guide for the day.” Ugh. My voice squeaked again. I have to just go back to that mousy demeanor that I thought I killed off in the presence of the hot guy, don’t I? Control yourself.
“So, she does speak.” The severe woman almost sneered, looking down her pointy nose at me. Ugh. She reminded me of other people, like my awful parents. She’s more what I was expecting to see today.
“Chloe. Behave or you will be made to behave.” The handsome man snapped, glaring at her. I hope that isn’t some kind of a euphemism. No! Focus! But on the other hand, his voice was so kind, yet his eyes had a steel. He was clearly not one to be trifled with. Even the severe looking woman looked away from him. I doubt he even gets how truly attractive his dominance is. Makes my stomach twist deliciously.
“It is nice to meet you Clarrrissa.” He purred my name, and I could feel my face flushing as my stomach filled with butterflies. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what his voice did. He was a smug douche about it too. Good. Good. That’ll make it easier to get over him. “My name is Damian. These are a couple of my colleagues. Chloe Carmichael and ‘Gorilla’.” He chuckled and my stomach flipped once again. Damn him and his funniness. “That is an inside joke. Now, on with the tour.”
I swallowed harshly, my throat feeling dry all of a sudden. God. No one that beautiful should really be alive. “Of course! Our museum is divided into different artistic eras and then subdivided into different cultures within the same general era,” I went through my usual spiel, thanking God at how many times I’ve done this. The words so ingrained into my head I barely stuttered over them at all, even as I was preoccupied looking at Damian’s face. Examining every expression his face made. He seemed to have no expression that isn’t attractive. Dude could probably make sneezing look good. He was so interested in the art, genuinely interested. But his eyes kept straying to mine, making me look away for just a moment while blushing a bright red before my eyes returned to him.
He actually had interesting insights into the artwork. I was impressed. Every time he made a clever comment, how the Greeks used olive oil for lube, the changing standards for beauty, Picasso’s perverted nature coming across in the art of his mistresses, my heart skipped a beat. What even is he? Clever, loves art, incredibly handsome, and clearly rich? What?
Nobody should be that perfect. He’s the kind of guy I would make up in a laboratory!
By the end of the tour, I had to admit it. I am smitten. Also, about 80% sure that this is an act set up by my mother to find a man. Though how she pulled off such an authentic act, I will never know. Even the aura of confidence that practically oozed off of him, that I would normally call self-obsession, did funny things to my stomach. He just drove me crazy. Luckily, I was not a moron. I could save face because I didn’t drool. I barely made a fool out of myself and retained complete control of my mental facilities.
His colleagues left first, before him. He sent them off ahead of him. Why did he do that? To give me a bloody heart attack is the only logical answer I could think of. How could any woman stay rational at this point? When it was only me and him alone. When a man who basically embodies all my desires is staring into my eyes… and seeming to like whatever he sees reflected there. “It’s not every day a man is able to spend his time with such a beautiful woman. I am happy to get this opportunity.” His voice was a flirtatious purr that didn’t help me keep myself cool in any real way.
I froze at the unexpected compliment. I should have expected it, as he was flirting with me basically the whole time. But really? Beautiful? I know some of the things I create are beautiful. The artwork surrounding me is beautiful. Aesthetically pleasing at worst and soulful, deep creations at best. He is beautiful. But for me? I’m a chubby, barely-five-foot woman with thick spectacles who never really grew out of the nerdy look. Cute, I’ve been called. But never beautiful. It’s not like in the movies where the girl grows out of it and finally, she is noticed.
I am never noticed. And right now, I don’t know if I like being noticed. What if he changes his mind? All of a sudden decides to pick one of the gorgeous women he must know. Even that severe woman. She is incredibly beautiful; the way I wish I was.
He had an embarrassed smile on his face and I abruptly realized I was frozen like a deer in headlights for over a full minute while he continued to speak. “So, your answer?” He questioned me gently, and I found the light pink dusting his cheeks only made him more attractive. It lessened his intimidation, but I found he felt no less in control. His politeness made it a question and not a demand, but I felt that if I said no to whatever question he was asking of me, he would be able to roll it off his shoulders.
“Um…. What?” Mortified, I squeaked the question out, avoiding eye contact. My face must be hot enough to fry an egg on right now, with all the blood rushing that direction. He must have asked me something! He asked me something and I just stared at him with this dumb look on my face, because I am an idiot. Grr. I can’t believe I wasn’t even listening to hear what he said! How embarrassing is that?
He frowned at me. Oh. Oh no. Damage control, Clarissa. Don’t look like that much of an idiot.
“I-I’m sorry!” I almost shouted. “I was just, you know, distracted. You are very attractive and funny, and I… I was just, thinking, maybe… cause I’m not- err. A-And -”
I stopped the word vomit that was pouring from my lips at the sound of laughter. So first of all, No. I failed at not sounding like an idiot. Second, I really liked his laugh. It was a soothing rumble, something between the purr of a new car and a lawnmower. He… He’s laughing at me. I was unsure whether I was offended or just glad he wasn’t frowning anymore.
Either way, I really wanted to hear his laughter again.
A moment later, as his laughter grew louder, I had my answer.
Not NOW!
“How dare you laugh at me!” I stomped my foot and my lower lip stuck out in an adorable pout that I just knew all the guys go crazy over. Now I’m acting like a little child.
“You find me attractive.” It was a tease and it was the first words out of his mouth as I continued to pout at him. It’s the truth, but that doesn’t mean he should say it out loud like that! “Kitten,” He purred. “Go out with me.” It wasn’t stated as a question this time, his tone dripping with sugar as he spoke those honeyed words.
I don’t know how I felt about that nickname. Kitten? The word sounds amazing dripping like honey from his lips, but it is also a pretty sexist comment. And I don’t really think I approve. On the other hand, how could I not approve of him? He is so handsome.
Forgetting all about my quandary as his next words hit my ears is just like me. He… He’s actually… genuinely asking me out. Oh god! I’m so incredibly not prepared for this. My lips begin moving a mile a minute, my brain to foggy as his piercing sapphire eyes stared – practically into my very soul – to actually hear whatever drivel was coming out of me. I am glad I couldn’t hear whatever I was saying. It ought to be incredibly stupid, and I really don’t want to be reminded of what it was.
His hand was covering my mouth now, pinching my lips closed. His eyes shone with mirth now, and I was even more embarrassed than I was previously. I had major doubts that that was even physically possible! “Just say yes.” He smirked down at me, his form towering over me.
Almost saying no just to spite him caused me to clench my fists. No, Clarissa. Don’t give up a good thing just out of your own childish temper tantrum. Who is that going to help? Yourself? Not fucking likely! You’re just going to talk him out of wanting to go on a date with such a child.
“If… if I can pencil you in... for my schedule.” I eventually answered, letting him wait for a moment. It was so fun to watch him squirm while trying to figure out what I would do. He seemed to know I wanted to say yes but was unsure what I would actually do.
The smile lighting up his face made me shiver. He is so beautiful and passionate. How am I the one who got that passion aimed towards me? I have never actually been that smart or beautiful. Nobody’s ever really wanted me.
He pressed a slip of paper into my palm, before kissing the back of my hand like some kind of knight. Oh. I’m so amazed. Did I somehow transport myself into some modern retelling of Lancelot’s story? Or some chivalrous knight. I can’t remember which. That is the only answer that makes a lick of sense even though it essentially still didn’t make any sense.
“My number. Text me, when you clear your schedule.” His lip was quirked up in amusement at the idea. As if he just knew I didn’t have anything better to do. Asshole.
He’s right, of course. But he doesn’t have to be a jerk about it. Well, he wasn’t being a jerk about it that much, but still. Hiding my blush, I replied, “If I can clear my schedule.” I tried to make my voice sound as sassy as I usually was, but it didn’t work. He was just too… much. There was something about him that attracted me to him like a moth to a flame. Why couldn’t I at least fake that I wasn’t that into him?
I wish I could say it was just his looks. That I’m just a shallow girl who saw the hottest guy and decided that he’s the one, regardless of personality. But that would be a lie. Works of art are art because they are so much deeper than what they are on the surface. Maybe he is flawed, but from my perspective, he is beautiful as any other masterpiece in this museum. And that is what I sense. Buzzing right under the surface, there is something that I simply had to see. I had to examine him.
I had to see it, no matter what is going to happen.