Page 47 of Shattered Hope

I almost started crying over her kindness, and I barely managed to end the call without making a spectacle of myself.

Calling Jonathan wasn’t so easy. The man wasn’t exactly a saint, and I had no idea what his real intentions were, but right now, he was my best chance at evading Daniel until it was safe enough for me to leave Seattle.

20

“Anne… I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again,” he said, sounding as if he had just woken up.

“I’m sorry I was so rude the other day. You surprised me,” I told him, trying to ease his hurt pride.

“Why are you calling me?” he asked, still sounding upset.

“Are you still interested in painting me?” I asked, going straight to the point.

“Of course, I am. Are you offering to pose for me?” he jumped to the implicit offer.

“Will I have my clothes on?” I was desperate, but not so desperate.

“Of course, I want to paint you as a Polynesian princess.”

“Then, you can count me in.”

“What has Wells to say about this?” he asked, intrigued.

“We’re not together anymore,” I explained.

“What happened? You seemed very close.”

“I really would rather not talk about it if you don’t mind,” I said in a cold tone. “But there’s something I would have to ask you in return.”

“Sure… name your price,” he agreed, without hesitation.

“I don’t want money… just a place to stay while you need me,” I explained, hoping I hadn't ruined things with him.

“You can stay at my guest house. I’m sure you will be comfortable there,” he accepted, sounding like a kid on Christmas eve.

“There’s another thing… you can’t tell anyone about our little arrangement, at least, not until the painting is ready,” I added.

There was a tense moment of silence between us, and for a second, I thought I had ruined everything.

“Are you hiding from Wells?” he finally asked.

“No… not at all… I just need to lay low for a while, but my reasons have nothing to do with Jayden,” I assured him.

“Perfect. When can you start?” he asked.

“When can you pick me up?” I asked in return.

Jonathan picked me up an hour later from the diner and took me to his house, on the outskirts of the city, not far from the beach. The guest house was a small cabin, on the back yard, fully equipped to allow complete independence from the main house. It was simply perfect.

His studio was over the large garage, and it had three of its walls made of thick glass, giving the place an enviable light and impressive view over the northern pacific.

“Will you be alright here? You can stay in the main house with me if you want. George won’t mind,” he said with a smile.

“George?” I asked, curious.

“Yes… my husband. He’s out of town now, but I’ll introduce you when he gets back from L.A.,” he explained.

His revelation was a bit surprising… Jonathan wasn’t what I would describe as the typical homosexual man, but the truth was I hadn't been paying that much attention.