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*ADEN*

S hades of Blue now has its proud place in my living room, giving me the chance to look at it every day.

There is something about the intricate lines of his brush, the shading, and the emotions it captured.

Sometimes, I just look at the picture, wondering what the man sitting on the edge of the bathtub is thinking or feeling.

I wonder what his face looks like, and if his expression is as melancholic as the painting makes it seem.

During the last couple of weeks, I have bought every painting Sterling made. All of them have the same fascinating technique. None of them captures my heart like his first painting did, but that doesn’t matter.

I am intrigued now. The artist has caught my interest.

With all due respect to his talent, though, I doubt he will be able to repeat the feeling the first painting struck in me. Paintings with a soul are too rare.

Then, however, Lynn calls me and tells me of Sterling’s fourth painting.

‘Yearning’.

It’s the same young man, standing on a shore, the sea in front of him dark and unsettling, the light dim. From behind the man, shadows seem to be approaching. It hits right in the feels, again.

“Cedric.” I march into the small adjacent office where Cedric is working. “Sterling Thomas has made a new painting.”

“I have heard!” he beams. “It has to be good.”

“Good doesn’t even remotely describe it,” I say. “I want it to be shown in the gallery.”

Cedric’s mouth drops open. “In… the regular exhibition?” He lowers his voice to a whisper as if he is scared anyone might spy on us. “Like for real.”

I sigh. “Yes, Cedric, for real.”

“Can I make a reel on Instagram for it?”

I have no idea what a reel is, but I assume he is going to advertise it. “Give it all the attention it deserves, and…” I furrow my brows. “Contact Sterling’s manager. I want a meeting with him and his artist, preferably over lunch.”

“Got you, sir!” He opens his notebook to scribble something down, a frown on his face while he purses his lips. “Maybe not too hipster…” he mutters to himself. “And not too fancy either…”

“What are you mumbling about?”

“Oh.” He smiles brightly. “You, Mr. Randall, don't like hipster restaurants. And I assume a new artist won’t enjoy a too fancy one. I am going to book something that caters to you both.”

“That’s not the worst idea you had today.”

He beams. “Thank you!”

I stare at him, speechless at how happily he reacted to my random teasing comment. The golden retriever puppy vibe he gives off is truly a force to reckon with. Once I am back in my own office, Lynn comes over.

“Found your new toy?” she asks.

“It’s an artist, not a toy. And I don’t dispose of them, once I have supported them.”

“It was a joke, Aden, relax. I know.” She looks around, eyeing one of Sterling’s pictures that I had put on my office wall. “So, you chose Sterling Thomas. Interesting.”

“Why are you surprised?”

“He isn’t your style usually. Don’t get me wrong, I like his work, I just didn’t know you would.”

“His technique needs improvement,” I say, getting up to stand next to her, looking at the painting.

“But the way he paints has personality. He takes risks without forcing himself to do them. It flows naturally. He is able to capture a moment and make it seem alive, but he doesn’t copy the moment either.

What we see is what he sees through his tinted glasses at that time.

” I pause. “That’s talent. It’s raw and honest. Probably a guy who faced some hardships and who is empathic enough to see what’s inside someone’s soul. ”

“And you can tell all that while looking at his picture?”

I tilt my head, thinking of Yearning again, and the melancholy in it. Only his paintings with this young man have that unique feel to them. “Yes.”

“You are a generous man, Aden.”

“Where did that come from?”

“I am just saying,” she shrugs. “You give back to the community.”

“The community made me big. It’s only logical that I would want to give back.”

She chuckles. “If it were logical, everyone would do it. You are an altruist.”

“You are silly. A true altruist would do much more than I do.”

“Whatever you say.” She shrugs before shifting the topic all of a sudden. “So, Oliver called me.”

“No, he didn’t.” I pinch my nose in annoyance.

“He just wanted to know how you are.”

“He can call me himself.”

“That’s what I told him, too,” she says. “Guess what, I am not too fond of talking to my ex either. But apparently, he didn’t get the memo.” A pause. “He said you barely talk to anyone from home.”

“It’s nothing personal,” I say shortly.

“It isn’t?”

“No, I just don’t feel close to them.” I let my eyes wander over Yearning again. “Do you know the feeling that you don’t belong?”

“Yes, sometimes, in certain situations.”

I walk to my desk and pick up a folder to hand to her. “Here. You said you needed an assistant. These are the applicants for the job. Take a look at them and tell me who you want to see.” I pause. “And next time Oliver calls you, tell him, it’s not cool.”

I wonder what kind of person I would meet who looks like a Sterling.

It’s intriguing that he has a combination of names that makes it hard to tell which one is the surname and which the first name.

He has barely any online presence. Cedric dug through his social media, but his only account is on Instagram, and he only shows his art there, never his face.

Clearly, a man who shares my soul.

Unfortunately, despite my own feelings about social media, I have to agree with Cedric that he needs to advertise better.

“Thank you for taking me with you, sir!” Cedric looks so excited, I am scared he will bounce off a wall soon.

“You are aware, you are my assistant?” I ask. “I am not taking you along out of the goodness of my heart.”

“I know,” he chirps.

Well… I tried.

The restaurant Cedric chose is a smaller, more secluded place. Prices are mid-class, not too high to make Sterling and his manager uncomfortable, but still indicating we will get something decent. They have a wine card, which I appreciate.

“They have a smaller menu here,” Cedric explains happily. “But they offer both veggie and meat options. Plus, it’s not too specific.”

“Not a bad choice,” I agree.

He beams at me, as usual, perking up slightly when we approach our table. “Oh, they are here already!”

“I can see that.”

I give myself a short moment to scan the two men as quickly as possible.

In my career, I have learned to read those around me effectively.

As we approach, the two men stand up. They look to be the same age.

One of them is dark-haired and tall, easily hovering above us all, while the other is smaller in height with short brown hair and a calm expression.

He has a tattoo on his forearm, it looks like a signature of a name—interesting—and is clad in simple clothes.

He looks slightly out of place.

“Sterling Thomas?” I ask, as I reach out my hand towards him.

“Yes,” he says politely, shaking my hand. “I am honored to meet you, Mr. Randall.”

He doesn’t seem shy or insecure, but that’s no surprise. His paintings carry a tone of confidence.

I turn to the man next to him, shaking his hand as well. “You must be Mateo Wheeler?”

He nods, smiling. His expression is more open and friendly. “Yes, thank you for inviting us, Mr. Randall.”

“This is my assistant—”

“Cedric Nichols,” he proclaims before I can introduce him, happily shaking hands with both of them. As usual, he looks like he just won the lottery, his expression open and happy.

Sterling doesn’t bat an eye at Cedric’s display of joy and affection, but Mateo looks amused. He tosses me a curious glance but doesn’t say anything, and I don’t feel like explaining Cedric, or my reasons for hiring him, to them either. It’s no one’s business but mine.

When we sit down, Mateo hits his knees against the table, cursing slightly. “You okay?” Sterling asks him.

“As always, Sterlone.”

“You know each other well,” I conclude.

“Yes, we are friends from college,” Sterling explains.

“I didn’t know you studied,” I say.

“I didn’t,” he says, openly and honestly, which I appreciate very much. “I dropped out after one year. Uni just wasn’t for me.”

“That’s okay,” Cedric chirps. “I sucked at my classes as well. I have no idea how I finished my degree.”

I hide a groan, not sure if I should smack the back of his head for acting as if he didn’t have a job others were dying to get, or pat his back because he is just being his golden retriever self.

“Are you friends too?” Mateo asks.

“No,” I say. “We only met three months ago.”

“Fate’s funny sometimes,” he jokes.

I have nothing to retort. He is just right.

One of Cedric’s strengths is not to be bothered by what anyone says, so instead of indulging in that conversation, he pulls out a folder and a notebook. Once the waiter takes our order, he is ready to go into business.

“As I said on the phone,” I start. “I want to have an exclusive contract with you, Mr. Thomas—”

“Can we stick with first names?” he asks. “No one has called me Mr. Thomas in ages.”

“Fine with me,” I say.

“Really?” Mateo asks skeptically.

“Yes.”

“Mr. Randall is far less stuck-up than everyone makes him look,” Cedric comes to my defense, though I have mixed feelings about what he just said. Cedric turns to me. “But the distanced, cool CEO image works too well for you,” Cedric analyzes. “Our followers on TikTok eat it up.”

I decide to ignore him. “If I decide to support an artist, of course this means it comes with benefits.” I gesture towards Cedric to take over, leaning back and sipping at my wine.

It’s also his chance to show off. He never does it arrogantly, I don’t think he is capable of being arrogant, but he easily switches into business mode.

He tells Mateo and Sterling in detail what an exclusive contract means, what kind of say they will have, and what we offer in return.

No artist needs to sell their soul to me. I am not Mephisto. I want them to keep their own style, their muse and their pace. But I invest in them and, in return, I get the first bid on their art, allowing me to put it into my gallery and sell it for them. It’s part of the business.

“It’s fine with me,” Sterling says.

“Don’t you want to sleep on it for a night, Sterlone?” Mateo exclaims.

“No, it’s not like there is any better offer coming through anytime soon.” He nods at me. “He has a reputation.”

“Well, sure, but—”

“Thank you,” Sterling tells me. “I will happily take the offer.”

I can barely hide my amusement when I see the frown on Mateo’s forehead. Seems like I am not the only one with difficult work relations.

To ease his mind, however, and to show him that I am genuine, I hand the two men four VIP tickets. “This is for a private dinner party that will be held at my gallery this weekend,” I say. “I would be happy to see both of you. It will give you a chance to network, Sterling.”

He groans. “I have to, don’t I?”

“I can help with your social media accounts,” Cedric offers before frowning and turning to me. “Am I allowed to do that? Is that part of my work?”

Another sigh leaves my lips. “Yes, it is.”

He smiles happily. “Leave it up to me, Sterling, I am good at this stuff.”

“There are four tickets,” Mateo says. “Are we allowed to bring friends?”

“Or family or a date,” I offer.

Mateo’s eyes light up. “That’s a cool thing, Sterlone! There will be other artists and potential buyers there. You can get your name out there.”

“That’s the plan,” I verify.

Mateo seems to be fully on board by now. I know that he is a business major, and I am sure he researched me beforehand and is well aware of how the business works. He might not be experienced yet, but he has the drive to pull it off.

The two men discuss who they want to take along for the event, while I text Lynn to prepare the papers. On my phone, I can see the notification of a missed call and a message. It’s not Oliver this time, but one of my other brothers.

They really are persistent.