Divine in Lingerie: Lingerie #9 Read online

  He didn’t have a reaction to the amount. “I’ll take it.”

  It was the quickest sale I’d ever made. “Really?”

  “Absolutely.” He lifted the painting off the wall and held it between his large hands. He examined it again, getting another look before he handed it off to me. “It’s beautiful. I have just the spot for it.”

  “That’s great. Let me just wrap it up for you.”

  “No need. I live a few blocks away.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me his card.

  I took it, paying attention to the name.

  Antonio Tassone.

  I wasn’t sure why I looked or cared, but for some reason, I did. I ran his card and handed it back to him with the receipt. “Thanks for coming in. Enjoy your painting.”

  “I will.” He gave me a handsome smile, the kind that could pick up a woman instantly. His eyes seemed to take me in a moment longer, like he saw something he wanted to remember. Then he carried his painting out of the store and disappeared past the window.

  Once he was gone, a pain filled my heart. He was the first man I found attractive, the first man that I noticed. As if I’d betrayed Bones, the guilt burned in my stomach. I was supposed to move on, but it seemed too soon for that.

  I found Antonio attractive. I found him interesting because he liked art—my art.

  But I definitely wasn’t ready.

  I wasn’t sure when I would ever be ready.

  I’d just walked into my apartment when Carmen knocked on the door behind me.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I asked when I opened the door.

  She was dressed in a red sleeveless dress with sandals. It’d been a hot day in Florence, the summer heat and humidity making everyone sweat, but Carmen didn’t seem to be affected by the weather. “Just wanted to take you out for a drink.”

  I hadn’t been out much, choosing to hide within the four walls of my apartment. Carmen had respected my space for a while, knowing I needed to get through this breakup on my own.

  But obviously, her patience had run out. “Vanessa, come on,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “You need to get out of this apartment.”

  “I work every day, thank you very much.”

  She rolled her eyes again, this time harder. “Downstairs. You walk like ten feet.”

  “Whatever. I’m still working. I actually sold a painting today.” To a very handsome man.

  “That’s great,” she said. “Let’s go out and celebrate.”

  My cousin was only trying to cheer me up, so I thought it would be rude to ignore her. “I’m not picking up a guy, so don’t force that stunt on me.”

  “Fine. But if a hot guy asks you out, you have to say yes.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “No.”

  “Vanessa—”

  “I’m not ready.”

  “It’s been six weeks, woman. Don’t you need some action? You must be going crazy going from getting it on with that hot piece of man to now you’ve got nothing happening. So treat yourself.”

  I did miss sex. A lot. But I knew it wouldn’t be good with anyone else, not when I wasn’t in love. “The man who bought that painting today was a great-looking guy.”

  “Yeah?” she asked with a smile.

  “Beautiful man. But I felt so guilty for being attracted to him that I knew it was too soon.”

  “So you let him walk out and didn’t get his number?” she asked incredulously.

  I nodded. “I’m not ready.”

  “It’s been six weeks…”

  “I know, but that’s not long enough for me. I need more time. So whether a hot guy buys me a drink or not, I’m not going home with anyone.”

  Carmen gave me a sympathetic look along with a nod. “Alright, no pressure. But you should get out anyway. You need to be around other humans, not a bunch of paint and brushes. And you know what? You can help find a hot guy for me.”

  “Now that, I can do.”

  I changed, and we left my apartment. We walked up the road a few blocks, both in dresses and heels. We passed the window of an art gallery, and in the very front was a painting that made me stop walking. It was new, because I’d passed this street a few times and never spotted it before.

  Carmen kept walking, but she stopped when she realized I wasn’t beside her any longer. “What’s the holdup?”

  I crossed my arms and stared at the painting through the glass. It was an image of Tuscany, of the vineyards in the background and a country home in the foreground. The details of the flowers, the ivy, the olive trees, and the rustic Italian craftsmanship all impressed me. Each flower petal was perfect, the sky was such an idyllic blue, and it perfectly captured the feeling of the countryside in the heat of summer.

  It reminded me of my childhood.

  It was the kind of painting I’d created dozens of times, but this painting spoke to me on such a deep level.

  Carmen stared at it with me, her head slightly tilted. “It’s pretty. But I think your paintings are better.”

  “No such thing as better,” I said as I stared at the expert brushstrokes. “This is a masterpiece.”

  “Are you going to get it?”

  “I wonder how much it is…”

  Carmen stepped closer to the glass and squinted her eyes. “I can’t tell. Can’t read the artist’s name either. Looks like chicken scratches…”

  “They’re closed now. But I think I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going to put it?”

  “In my living room. Right above the couch.”

  “Yeah, that will look nice,” she said in agreement. “Hope it’s not too pricey. You never know how much a painting is gonna cost.”

  “True. But I think it’ll be worth every penny.”

  I went to the gallery down the road around lunchtime and was relieved to see the painting still hanging in the window. It was a large piece, something big enough to draw the focus in my living room. At least it would take the distraction off the painting of Bones…a painting I stared at constantly.

  I walked inside, noticing how different the layout was from my gallery. My place had light walls, a hardwood floor, and lots of art lights directly on the pieces. This gallery was much moodier, with black walls, dark floors, and a special type of art light that brought out the intense colors of the paintings. There were no other customers there when I stepped inside.

  A woman was working behind the counter. She greeted me with a smile then offered to help me.

  “I’m interested in the painting in the window,” I said. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Not only beautiful, but special,” she said. “It was painted on the first day of summer.”

  “That was just a week ago.”

  “Yes. I’m surprised it’s still in the window. Paintings go pretty quick here.”

  Maybe it was just a sales tactic, but I wanted that painting so much, it worked on me. “I grew up in Tuscany, so the painting really touched me. How much?”

  “Twenty-five hundred euros.”

  That was several times more expensive than my pieces, but the price didn’t surprise me. It came with a nice frame, and it was a quality piece of work from a professional. I’d been making decent money selling my work, and since I didn’t have rent to pay or even a car payment, money wasn’t an issue for me. “I’ll take it.”

  Surprise came over her face, but she quickly hid it away. “That’s lovely. Let me ring it up, and I’ll wrap it up for you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I live right down the road. I’ll just carry it.”

  “Very well.” She guided me to the counter and took my card.

  I glanced around the room, looking at the other pieces. They all seemed to possess the same craftsmanship. “Are these all local artists?”

  She ran my card through the machine then gave me the receipt to sign. “Local, yes. But it’s not a collection of artists. This galley belongs to—” She stopped talking when the door opened. “Actually, here he is now. The artist w
ho painted this lovely piece of work—Antonio Tassone.”

  My heart fell into my stomach before I even turned to look at the man I’d met a few days ago. He stopped by my gallery and bought one of my paintings, and here I was, buying one of his. The irony was so overwhelming I didn’t know if I should laugh or feel embarrassed. I turned to the door and saw Antonio Tassone walk in, wearing the same casual jeans and t-shirt as the last time I saw him. He filled out his clothing well, having a broad chest that was thick and hard. He was a perfect triangle, his wide shoulders narrowing down to his hips. He was slender and ripped, having a musculature similar to my father and brother. Bones was thick like a beast, and this man was on the leaner side.

  When his eyes settled on me, there was a spark of familiarity. He recognized me, and that same lazy smile came over his chiseled jaw. A light amount of scruff sprinkled the area around his lips, like he forgot to shave that morning. With brown eyes the color of hot coffee, he was the kind of man I would normally ask out in a heartbeat.

  I kept standing there, unsure what to do or say. I’d never been the kind of person that was intimidated or lost her confidence, but it took me a second to regain my balance, either because I was surprised by the turn of events or because this man was so undeniably fine.

  He stopped by the counter, confident as ever. “Excellent choice.” He looked at the painting, staring at it fondly like it was one of his children. “I went to the edge of the city first thing in the morning. The morning light in Tuscany is an artist’s dream.”

  I wanted to agree, but I forgot how to talk.

  “Here’s your card.” The woman held it out to me.

  That snapped me out of the moment, and I took it. “Thanks.”

  “Let me wrap this up for you.” Antonio moved behind the counter.

  “That’s not necessary,” I said, finally finding my words. “I live two blocks away. I’ll carry it.” Now I wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, never to return to this block ever again. Antonio Tassone wasn’t only a handsome and charming man, but a very talented artist. The more I liked him, the more I disliked him.

  “Really?” he asked. “In that case, I’ll carry it for you. It’s a bit heavy.”

  “I can do it,” I blurted, sounding rude when I didn’t mean to. I quickly spoke again, erasing the damage I caused. “I just mean, I’m stronger than I look…”

  “I never doubted your strength, signorina.” He gripped the painting by both sides of the frame and held it perpendicular to the floor. “So don’t doubt my chivalry. You’ve purchased a very beautiful and expensive piece of work. The least I can do is carry it for you.” Antonio looked at me, his eyes starting to smolder with authority. A hint of a smile was on his lips, like he knew he’d gotten his way.

  “Okay…” I didn’t want to spend any extra time with this man. Not even a second. “I just live two blocks this way.” I walked out first and reached the sidewalk.

  He emerged behind me, his arm muscles flexing slightly as he held the weight of the painting. There were very few people on the street, so it seemed like just the two of us in this big city.

  Together, we walked forward, side by side.

  I could barely breathe. My chest ached. So much guilt washed over me. I didn’t like being this close to him, being alone with a man like him. It seemed like I was doing something wrong, betraying the man I loved just by being a few inches away from this one.

  “Where are you going to put it?” Antonio asked as he walked beside me, over a foot taller than me.

  “In my living room.”

  “I’m flattered.” He smiled in a genuine way, the kind that reached his eyes. He looked handsome when he smiled and handsome when he didn’t. It didn’t matter what his expression was, his beauty never changed.

  Instead of letting the silence make things more awkward, I blurted something out. “I grew up in Tuscany, so your painting really touched me. I walked past your gallery last night, and when I saw your painting, I had to come back and get it.”

  “Again, I’m flattered.” He possessed a deep and masculine voice, and his words flowed like honey. Confident and relaxed, he was comfortable in his own skin.

  After two blocks had passed, we stopped at the gallery. “This is me.”

  He looked at the gallery before his eyebrows rose up his forehead.

  “I live in the apartment above the gallery.” I didn’t walk up the stairs on the side to my apartment, not wanting him to follow me inside my home. This was the farthest I was going to take him.

  “Really?” He stared at the gallery for a few more seconds, his brow furrowed like he was trying to piece the puzzle together. “Do you own the gallery?”

  “Yeah.” I realized he had no idea the painting he bought was mine. He must have thought I was only some woman working behind the counter, just like the woman in his shop. A part of me wanted to lie and pretend the artwork wasn’t mine, to deny a connection that we obviously shared. But my lie would catch up with me…sooner or later.

  He finally turned back to me, his concentrated expression gone and his handsome smile wide. “That’s wonderful. How long have you been here?”

  “Only about two months.” I took the painting from his hands, wanting to make sure he had no reason to come into my apartment. The last thing I wanted was to be alone with a man behind closed doors. I didn’t think anything would happen between us, but it felt too soon—even for that. “Thank you for giving me a hand with this. You’re right.” I tested the weight. “It’s a bit heavy.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets and didn’t offer to carry it up the stairs to my apartment. He must have sensed the boundary I’d placed between us and didn’t try to press his chivalry any further.

  I wanted to turn away and end this conversation now, before he asked the question I didn’t want to answer. “I guess I’ll see you around, Mr. Tassone.” Keeping it formal was smart. It would keep the distance between us.

  “Antonio,” he said, the corner of his mouth rising in a smile. “What kind of artists do you carry here? I’d never heard of Vanessa Barsetti before I purchased your painting. Is she a new artist? Her work is remarkable. I don’t buy paintings very often, but the moment I saw hers…I felt something.”

  I forgot to breathe because his compliment meant so much to me. This amazing artist just complimented me…an amateur. I’d dropped out of university to pursue this, but I never really believed in myself. Now this talented man was complimenting me, having no idea I was the one who painted the piece. The second I laid eyes on his painting, I knew I needed to hang it in my home. His work was inspiring, beautiful, and mesmerizing. The fact that someone who created the paintings he did thought my work was any good…was surreal. “She’s the only artist that I carry…because she is me. And thank you for your kind words…I’m very touched.”

  His smile faded away instantly, and the look that replaced it was one I’d never seen before, not on him or anyone else. His coffee-colored eyes stared at me, looking at me in a new way, like he was seeing me for the very first time. His gaze intense and deep, he stared at me like he could see past my face and to everything underneath.

  Now, I regretted telling him the truth. The second the words were out of my mouth, everything changed. The connection between us was so obvious that neither one of us could unsee it. Like a bright red line stretched between us. We bought each other’s paintings without having any idea the other one created it. We got lost in each other’s work, in each other’s beauty.

  And now we were getting lost in each other.

  I didn’t want this. I wanted to run away and pretend it never happened. I wished I’d never bought that painting. I wished Carmen and I hadn’t walked past the window and spotted it. I wished I’d never allowed Antonio to carry the painting to my apartment.

  Now he was staring at me with an intense gaze, his body rigid and strong. His shoulders tightened, and his chest expanded with the deep breath he took. He seemed to let out a
quiet sigh, almost in resignation.

  I didn’t have silent eye contact with anyone like this besides Bones. Those looks were packed with sexual aggression, profound love, and a million other emotions. I didn’t want to share that intimacy with anyone else. “I should go… I have somewhere to be. Goodbye, Antonio.” I turned away and walked up the stone steps to the apartment above the gallery. I didn’t turn back to look at him again, to see the expression on his face as I left. I said goodbye on purpose, to bring a sense of finality to the conversation. I wanted to shut the door on the possibility of seeing him ever again.

  But he didn’t say goodbye in return.

  Nine

  Vanessa

  After three days passed and I didn’t see or hear from Antonio, the fear passed. I had been afraid he would stop by and ask me out, but he never did, to my fortune. Maybe the cold way I turned away and walked into my apartment was a clear sign I wasn’t interested.

  I hoped I wouldn’t see him, at least for a few months.

  It’d only been two months since Bones and I broke up. It felt too soon to be with someone else.

  It was too soon.

  Bones had probably been with other women already, but that didn’t matter. It wasn’t a competition, and I knew they didn’t mean anything to him anyway.

  Antonio already meant something to me. When he painted such a beautiful piece of art that was in my home, it was impossible for him not to have significance to me.

  Once the danger passed, I returned to working in my gallery in peace. My life was pretty boring, just work, painting, and staying inside my apartment. I cooked all my meals and never went out, preferring the sanctuary of my apartment. I started to gain some weight back because I was eating normally again, but I still wasn’t back to my normal form.

  I was downstairs in the gallery taking a picture of a new painting when the door opened and someone came inside. I set down my phone and turned to my new customer, expecting another tourist who wanted a beautiful souvenir to take home. Instead, I came face-to-face with my father. “Father?”