Chapter 26
201
20 Bonus
I didn’t think I would feel this way, but after deciding to move Miles to Ordan with me, I suddenly feel a new sense of cheer wash over me. Maybe I’m going back to a city filled with old memories, but the promise of new opportunities, a new life, is enough to
soften some of the bad things.
Right away, I start handling my affairs. Over the following days, I hunt down a living situation, finally settling on a sweet little
loft apartment in one of the historic buildings overlooking the arts quarter.
The apartment has high ceilings and large windows, perfect for painting, I can already picture Miles running around the open. concept floorplan, and the large round window at the front of the apartment overlooking the street below will be a perfect spot
for a little reading nook for him.
The floors are hardwood and creak ever so slightly when you move across them, and the whole space smells like new memories
waiting to be made.
After signing the lease–the landlord is more than happy to rent out a space to the up and coming artist ‘Flora“-I purchase a plane ticket for Miles and get to work purchasing the necessities for the apartment.
“I’ll buy you a sofa,” Brian says, checking over the list I’ve made. “A nice big sectional for you and Miles to play on.”
My cheeks tinge a slight shade of pink. “You don’t have to do that, Brian.”
300
He glances up at me in that stern yet playful way of his. “Yes, I do. It’s the least I could do. Besides, Liam and the twins and I will
be coming over all the time, so I want to make sure it’s nice and comfortable in here.”
I can’t argue with that, of course. After telling Miles about the big move, which excites him greatly and gives him something to look forward to, Brian, Liam and I get to work putting together furniture and situating the apartment.
Soon enough, the apartment is livable. A little empty as of right now, but cozy. The sofa is positioned right in front of the old stone fireplace, and I’ve set up a painting area in the corner overlooking the street below. I spread out a small rug and some comfy kid–sized chairs in Miles‘ reading nook, and set up a bunk bed with an extra pull–out bed in his bedroom.
The bunk bed was Liam’s idea, and another gift from the two of them. They said it was so that the twins and Miles could have sleepovers, but I think they just want to spoil Miles. Again, I can’t argue with that.
However, the apartment isn’t quite ready. The landlord needs to finalize some things before we can officially move in, so I leave the essentials at Brian and Liam’s apartment, planning to stay with them temporarily until the move in date.
Finally, the day of my flight back to Bo’Arrocan comes. I’m going to fly home in the afternoon, then stay a few days to get some things in order before flying back to Ordan with Miles. But first, I have to attend a meeting at the art gallery in the morning.
I head to the gallery, my face hurting from how much I’ve been smiling lately. The agent who has been sent to help finalize my patronage contract is already waiting for me. She’s a portly older woman with gray hair cut into a neat pixie style, and her
1/3
-20 Bonus
expression gives off a no–nonsense air..
But there’s something else about her, too. The way she looks at me seems almost surprised, and then it hits me: I’m not wearing my ‘Flora‘ disguise.
“You must be the artist,” she says, shaking my hand. “My name is Deborah. I’ll be helping you finalize your contract today.”
We sit down in the back of the art gallery, where she spreads out the papers between us. She glances at me for a moment, then says almost tentatively, “Is it true that you’re the Alpha President’s fated mate?”
My stomach clenches. I guess I figured it would come to this, because I’m not going to wear my disguise everywhere I go. But it doesn’t make the constant reminders hurt any less.
Not wanting to lie, I nod. “Yes, I’m his fated mate, But we’re not together.”
The woman looks me up and down, and for a moment, I sense that she isn’t fully buying it. But finally, she lets it go. With that, she points to the first page of the contract.
“Here you’ll find the initial stipulations of your residency,” she says. “Your patron wishes you to remain in Ordan for a timeframe of one year, during which you are free to produce however much or little art you wish. The patron’s only stipulation is that you hold an exhibition at the end of the period.”
I nod, leaning in to study the contract. All of the clauses are pretty standard–Marsiel Gallery requests t that I participate in one seminar per month, and that I share ten percent of my earnings from any art I sell during the exhibition at the end of the year with the gallery. I’ll also be taking part in one press tour during the year, traveling to various galleries and venues around the city as the gallery’s ambassador.
But it’s the final clause that catches my attention.
“Does the patron really mean this?” I ask, pointing. “It says that I don’t need to share any earnings with my patron. I don’t even have to give them a painting at the end as a gift.”
The woman narrows her eyes slightly. “Do you not know who your patron is?”
I shake my head, recalling how the curator had mentioned that the patron wished to remain anonymous. This woman must know who he or she is, though, because she opens her mouth as if to say a name before she shuts it again, clearly thinking better of it.
“Ahem.” She clears her throat. “Well, yes. The patron does not request any gifts or commissions. They only wish to see you make
art.”
I find that a little odd, considering the nature of most artist patronages. But I’m not complaining, that’s for certain.
With everything settled, all that’s left is to sign the contract. But I can’t just yet. “I have to fly back to Bo’Arrocan to handle some personal matters,” I explain. “But once I get back, I’d like to sign the contract.”
The woman looks a little surprised. “Oh. Do you have a family there?” she asks.
Her question, again, strikes me as odd. But my body instinctively reacts to the intrusion, causing my cheeks to flush–something
that I’ve never entirely been able to grow out of, and Arthur always said it was a telltale sign that I was hiding something
Figuring there’s no point in lying now, I nod. “Yes, I do,” I say. “I have a child there.”
The woman opens her mouth to respond, but then her eyes shift over my shoulder. Her expression quickly morphs into
something else, something that I can’t quite read. I follow her gaze and turn, and that’s when I see him.
Arthur.
He’s standing in the doorway, and his face is dark with anger.
20 Bonus
D
