Page 26 of Tempting the President (Oro Nero MC)

Dear Ashton,

I hate mornings. I’m just not like you. I remember how you loved mornings, the way you’d be so excited seeing the sun rise.

Maybe if you were here with me, I wouldn’t hate it so much. Ah, who am I kidding?

These days, I just exist to hate. It’s better than being scared.

Love, Your Big Sis

ARIA

THE MORNING OF THE exhibition dawned nice and sunny, and its brightness was like acid on my skin. The first thought that came to my mind was even more painful, the kind that made me squeeze my eyes shut and wish I could just go back to sleep so the world would forget I ever existed.

Did I really tell everything about myself – about Ashton – to Kellion Argyros?

It was all I could think about the whole time I was in the shower, and even as I changed and fed myself an energy bar for breakfast, my mind remained tormented by last night’s memories. Remembering alone drained me. It felt like the more he knew, the more control Kellion had over me.

And I hated it. Was terrified by it.

When I stepped outside my dorm building, the sun was even brighter, and I quickly fumbled for my sunglasses.

Even without Kellion around, the world had somehow become too sunny and vivid, blinding me.

I wanted rain and gloom, thunder and lightning, dammit.

Wasn’t September supposed to be hurricane season in Florida?

While I would never in the world wish for another Katrina, I did want something like a drizzle.

But no, what I got instead were days that were depressingly like Kellion Argyros, radiating so much sunshine-y happiness it made me want to gag.

If today had been an ordinary day, I would probably have tried countering the brightness by wearing something miserable, maybe go all Goth just so I could be that one big black spot in the midst of all the light.

Unfortunately, today was not an ordinary day.

Everyone turned towards me as I entered the exhibit venue through the back door, but I pretended not to notice.

I was dressed in a strapless LBD, one that had a sweetheart neckline and a knee-length skirt that swirled around my legs every time I moved.

The best thing about it? The dress had pockets.

“You look gorgeous,” KC exclaimed. “And oh my God, you’re wearing makeup!

” Indeed, I was. Eyes made larger with mascara, bronzer to highlight my cheeks, and a matte lilac shade for my lips.

I’d like to think it was because I wanted to look professional for my big day, but that wasn’t the only reason.

All this – the dress, the hair, the makeup – it was me starting to live again, because of Kellion.

The thought chipped away a piece of my heart, that piece forever lost to me because from now on it was Kellion’s. It was a terrifying thought, and I forced myself to think of something else, something less life-changing like—-

My eyes narrowed.

When I pointed to her face, KC smiled sheepishly. “Yes. I’m not wearing makeup.”

I threw my hands up. Why? Today was just as important for KC, a way to inject new life into her career. I dragged her towards the room reserved at the back for the exhibit’s artists. As expected, Professor Edison was there, and his ever-ready professional makeup kit was on the dressing room table.

I pointed towards a vacant swivel seat. Sit.

KC sat dutifully. She had a beautiful cat-like face, but she also had an air of na?ve innocence about her.

I didn’t want that today since it could make others take advantage of her.

A few strokes, a few brushes, and in minutes I got what I wanted, transforming her child-like beauty into something mysterious.

Was she or was she not as innocent as she seemed? You had to kiss her to find out.

I stepped back, rubbing my hands with glee. Mission accomplished.

KC slowly swung her seat to face the mirror. It had incandescent bulbs all over its frame, its golden light illuminating her face.

Her lips parted in wonder.

I grinned. Hot chick, right?

She didn’t speak.

My forehead furrowed as I stepped closer to her, my eyes meeting her through the mirror. You don’t like it?

“I like it. I really, really like it.” She bit her lip. “It’s just that...” She twisted her head to look up at me, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t remember the last time I looked this... nice .”

Oh.

I almost lost my balance, but it wasn’t because my three-inch open-toed slingbacks had given in. No, it wasn’t that. It was the way her eyes sparkled.

It reminded me of...him.

When so many months had passed that nothing in the world reminded me of Ashton, when so many months I had existed in a blurry, unclear, rotting world, why was I suddenly surrounded by so many reminders of him?

The answer was clear, but I almost wanted to pretend it wasn’t, almost wanted to pretend I didn’t feel another piece of my heart chipping away.

KC touched my hand. “Hey. You okay?”

I blinked, rapidly, like I was in a contest since I forgot to use waterproof eyeliner. When I was sure I was no longer in danger of breaking down, I nodded.

She cleared her throat. Getting to her feet, KC said without looking at me, “I was really surprised you were okay with the morning shift for the exhibit.” She was giving me time to compose myself, and I appreciated it.

I took out my board and started to scribble. FEWER PEOPLE ARE AWAKE IN THE MORNING.

That meant fewer chances of being forced to talk about my works. My drawings should speak for itself, and if that sounded like another excuse for me not to speak, well – that was true, too.

KC was nodding in understanding. “I was like that, too, at the start, but I eventually got used to it.” She gnawed on her lip. “Will, uhh, Kellion come?”

I shook my head.

She was visibly surprised. “Why not?”

I shaped my hands into an airplane and let it fly.

“Oh. Greece, I’m guessing?”

I nodded.

“That’s too bad.” She squeezed my hand, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’m here to cheer you up so you won’t miss—-”

I moved to strangle her, but KC laughingly evaded me and quickly headed for the door.

Outside the dressing room, virtually all of the students who had signed up for the morning shift were already there.

The exhibit venue was a huge open space, with glossy white walls, tall ceilings, and black-and-white checkered tiles.

All our works were framed and mounted on the walls while at the center of the room there were cocktail tables covered in black silk tablecloths and boasting of flower centerpieces made with recycled glass and wires.

At eight in the morning, the exhibit was officially open. As one of the exhibitors, I had to stay near where my works were, ready to answer whatever questions visitors may have.

“Are you ready, guys?” Professor Edison asked, and it was obvious he was having a hard time containing his own excitement.

“Don’t be nervous, all right? And if we don’t have that many people checking your works out, that’s okay, it doesn’t mean there’s no value in what you’ve done.

It only means we need to work harder at spreading the word. ”

I fidgeted in my heels, unsure if I had become more depressed or inspired after his speech.

Professor Edison was taking deep breaths. “Here goes...” He flung the doors open.

And nearly got swept away by the stampede.

So many people! In the blink of an eye, the entire venue was jam-packed with visitors.

But, I realized in surprise, they weren’t any ordinary visitors.

Almost all of them wore media IDs, and my eyes widened as I caught sight of the logos printed on the IDs.

They all belonged to the most popular arts and craft magazines, TV shows, and websites.

How?

But there was no time to wonder about it, not when some of the visitors started coming my way and I suddenly became deluged with questions.

How long have you been doing this? Tell me about your work. What’s your inspiration behind them?

Question after question after question, and I couldn’t write fast enough on my board to catch up with them, couldn’t remember the last time my fingers hurt this bad.

But I wasn’t complaining.

The hours passed, and there seemed to be no end to the visitors coming our way.

Another student came to relieve me at lunchtime and I bowed to her gratefully. As much as talking about my work was enjoyable, it had also been tiring and I could definitely use a breather.

When I got to the dressing room, a large box was on the table reserved for me. I took the card, my heart beating fast, knowing that this could only be from one person.

You won’t know how sorry I am that I’m not there with you.

P.S. I had the guy in charge of Afxisi’s website mention that I might be hiring one of the artists in your exhibit for a collab project with the club. It may get the press interested.

I almost laughed out loud, but the mere fact that I wanted to also made me want to cry, made me want to hold on to that piece of my heart being chipped away by Kellion’s words.

Unable to help it, I read the words again, his offhand reference to the media making me shake my head in incredulity.

Interested? Was he for real? The whole world wasn’t just interested in what he was doing.

They were obsessed with him, especially since the Afxisi’s President, Helios Andreadis, was now married.

As the club’s VP, Kellion Argyros was automatically the next most eligible bachelor – Kellion, the same man who had so easily told the world he was dating me .

Slowly, I reached for the box, telling myself I wouldn’t be disappointed if they were the usual chocolates or flowers. Or jewelry. After all, Kellion didn’t have much time to shop for this—-

Oh.

Inside the box was something that looked like a huge, gooey wad of bubblegum that had suddenly started to bleed. Another card was inside the box, and taking it out, I couldn’t help laughing as I read Kellion’s message.

This is called the ‘bleeding tooth fungus’, also known as ‘the devil’s tooth’.