Page 6 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER FIVE

VANESSA

Frustration whirled inside me as I avoided the busy crowd around the gallery.

I stepped into my office, closed the door, and dropped onto the couch by the wall.

I didn’t expect Emmanuel to be waiting for me outside the gallery.

Fearing he’d cause trouble, I agreed to talk to him at the nearby coffee shop.

My hands trembled, remembering his threat.

“Pay up, or you’ll regret it.”

I dug into my clutch bag and retrieved my phone, checking my bank accounts.

If I gave him the three hundred thousand dollars—which was everything I had—there would be nothing left to protect my mom’s safety in prison or pay for her escape to another country.

That amount also included the deposit from the First Lady.

Tears filled my eyes, but I willed myself not to cry.

I had to be presentable. I didn’t want the media to capture me looking like a zombie.

Breathe, Vanessa.

I closed my eyes and dropped into the darkness, a place that had been my sanctuary growing up. In the dark, there was nothing to see. Nothing could bother me here. It was in this emptiness that I could think clearly—start anew.

The darkness was my blank canvas.

Think outside your comfort zone. Reach beyond the confinement of the norm.

Emmanuel knew I’d be selling a lot of art today. He was betting on that. When would this blackmailing stop?

I got up from the couch, walked over to my desk, and turned on my computer. I clicked on the security cameras to see how many people were in the gallery. The crowd had increased since I walked in. I saw my friends and their men.

Then Attikus Mount, the investor of this gallery and the owner of this retail strip—looked right into the camera.

My heart quickened. His brown eyes bore into me, and my stomach churned.

The anxiety I’d felt with Emmanuel shifted to something else.

The tension in my body loosened, allowing me tobreathe better.

Maybe all I needed was a distraction from Emmanuel. I needed to get through the grand opening and deal with everything else after.

Shoving Emmanuel aside, I adjusted my long, dark hair and the lotus flower clip on the side.

It highlighted the red dress I wore. I looked in the mirror.

For a moment, I didn’t recognize the person standing before me.

My face was still the same, with my olive skin tone from my Vietnamese and Haitian heritage.

I wasn’t the same girl who had wanted to paint memorable things for fun anymore.

Now I painted because I needed the money to rescue my mom.

With that thought in mind, I squared my shoulders and walked out of the gallery.

Today was the debut of two new collections: The Shattered Lotus and Bleeding Dreams .

The collections both sounded morbid, but the colors I used gave hope to the hopeless.

These paintings were parts of me sent out into the world in secret.

No one knew what they truly meant but me.

Inhaling a deep breath, I stepped into the main room and glanced around. People crowded around a table with refreshments and appetizers. Others scattered around the gallery, looking at the curated collection.

My nerves calmed when everything seemed to flow smoothly. Nothing urgent erupted, needing my attention. My paintings were all displayed in their proper places, being appreciated by people who had money to spend.

“Everything okay?” asked Willow Thomas, my assistant.

“You look stunning, by the way.” She had been my part-time assistant until this gallery.

Now she worked full time for me. Willow looked adorable in her short, black dress.

A blue butterfly clip gleamed in her curly brown hair, which she wore down.

“Thank you. I’m okay, just tired and nervous. You know?” I embraced her. “Thanks for everything. The refreshment and appetizer table looks fantastic.”

“You’re so welcome. I love your work, and event planning is my hobby.” She smiled. “Everything is running smoothly. You’ve sold quite a few paintings already. Are you ready for some questions?” She gestured to a group of people standing in front of my Shattered Lotus collection.

“Of course,” I said and waved to some art collectors I recognized.

Willow led me to a group of people with questions about my lotus painting collection.

“Your paintings have transitioned to something dark, dear,” said an old man wearing a black suit with a navy tie. “It’s beautiful, though.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Change is a good thing. It’s the only thing that’s constant.”

“What inspired your paintings?” a woman with a sparkly dress and a lovely French twist hairstyle asked.

“Justice.” I smiled, surprised at my quick reply. If I had thought about it, I would have chosen a different word—a word that didn’t hint at my problems. But the truth flew out of me like a trapped bird escaping its cage.

“Justice is like karma?” asked a man in a blue-striped suit. “Do you agree?”

A lady in a peach gown replied, “Karma and justice are like intimate lovers. They are better together.”

“I love that perspective,” said the old man.

I didn’t intervene in their art critique of my work. That was the beauty of art or any kind of creative project. A hundred people could look at the same painting, and each would interpret it differently. We saw art through our experiences—our pain, hope, and dreams.

An intense energy suddenly slid down my spine, making me shiver.

I looked up; Attikus wasstaring at me from the corner.

He wore a black tuxedo, standing like a masterpiece in my gallery.

His swept-back dark hair enhanced his fine-boned face, chiseled jaw, and cheekbones that made supermodels jealous.

He stood with his friends, Orion and Remington.

His hands were placed on the intricate cane.

Attikus responded to something they said, but his eyes remained on me.

I didn’t know why, but my body hummed from his gaze.

“You look beautiful!” Elena placed a gentle hand on my back, pulling my attention away from Attikus.

She wore a cream-colored dress that accentuated her curves. Her wavy brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, looking elegant as usual.

“You too.” I gave her a one-armed hug. “Thank you for coming.”

“Have you tried the appetizers? They’re delicious!” Elena gestured to the table. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself.” I laughed as I walked over to admire the appetizers on the pretty plates. I feared if I ate anything, I might puke it all out tonight.

I first met Elena and her friends when they bought my paintings and commissioned me for additional work.

Then Elena invited me to do a live painting at her wedding on this exquisite island her husband owned.

I’d encountered many wealthy art collectors, but something genuine about these women drew me to them.

They didn’t pressure me about my family when that topic came up during a conversation. They respected my privacy, and that was important to me. I had unresolved issues I’d rather not talk about, and trust was a rare commodity these days.

Emmanuel had been my boyfriend, and look at what he’d done to me.

“No!” Elena gasped, staring at a couple standing in front of one of my floating island paintings.

“Gotta grab Orion. I don’t want that couple stealing my painting.

” She embraced me. “We’ll catch up later.

You have a spectacular gallery! I’ll tell everyone about it.

” She rushed over to Orion, grabbed his arm, and led him to the purchasing counter.

Audri walked out of the restroom, looking stunning in her baby blue dress. She saw me, beamed, and walked over to embrace me. “I love this gallery. It’s quaint and elegant. The location is perfect too.”

“Thanks.” I beamed. “Attikus knows his real estate.” I looked at him and quickly regretted it. Why is he still staring at me?

“Is something going on between you and Attikus?” Audri smirked.

“No,” I said, surprised by her question. “He invested in this gallery, and I’m grateful for that.”

“Oh.” Audri studied me. “He didn’t invest in the gallery—he invested in you .” She tapped my arm. “There’s no gallery without the artist.”

I didn’t know what to say. Attikus had mentioned he had a painting by me, but I didn’t know which one. Regardless, his investment allowed me to make more money without paying a commission to another gallery.

“I’m sure my little gallery is nothing compared to the other businesses he’s invested in.”

“I heard he’s working on a few projects with the boys.

These men are exceptionally amazing.” Audri looked at Remington, who asked Attikus a question, forcing him to look away from me.

“I’m not saying that because Remi’s my boyfriend.

The boys are finalizing this fabulous WaterFyre Rising video game. I’m not a game person, but it was fun.”

More people surrounded the purchasing desk.

“I need to purchase two paintings I want before someone else takes them.” She squeezed my hand. “Talk soon.”

Audri walked over to Remington and congratulated Attikus on the gallery.

This was also his opening. He’d put in a lot of money renovating this space for me.

To be honest, I was so ecstatic when he offered me space with free rent for three months that I thought nothing of it.

Was there a separate agenda behind the business deal?

Was he this generous with his other tenants?

Attikus made his way toward me, using his metal cane with intricate etchings on it. He walked with a slight limp that didn’t deter from how gorgeous and powerful he was. The cane was an accessory that enhanced his persona, adding a touch of mystery to him. How had he gotten injured?

“I think all your paintings will sell out today,” Attikus said.

His baritone voice slid over me like a deep-tissue massage, removing the tight knots within me.

A magnetic man with a magnetic voice was dangerous to someone like me who was sensitive to things like that.

An artist notices details that others often miss, and Attikus Mount was a mysterious man made of fascinating details.

“That means I have to paint more quickly.” I smiled. I had several more paintings in storage that would be displayed there.

“Thank you for letting me lease this space and for coming today,” I said, trying my best to stay composed. I had shoved Emmanuel out of my mind so I could stay calm, but here I was, trembling distinctly with nerves.

“Your paintings are different from others I’ve seen. I prefer to invest in things with great potential.” Brown eyes stared at me.

I looked into those mysterious eyes, surprised to see they held pain and sorrow. How could I see that? How could I know that? Was I projecting my issues onto him?

Confusion washed over me as I studied the sunburst of topaz and gold within his brown irises.

“I appreciate your support,” I said, breaking our gaze to watch a couple holding hands as they looked at one of my Shattered Lotus paintings. The woman stepped forward and tripped on the hem of her long dress. Her husband caught her, helping her to her feet.

“How are you doing?” Attikus asked.

“I’m okay,” I said. “A bit stressed, but that’s understandable. This is my first gallery, so I want to make sure everything goes without a hitch.”

“As far as I can tell, everything is working out beautifully.”

Willow approached me. “The media would like some photos of you both, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Attikus said. “It’s a great opportunity to show the community the fabulous new art gallery here in Providence.”

After Attikus and I answered questions and had our photos taken, I walked over to the appetizer table and grabbed a bacon- covered avocado, popping it into my mouth. The savory taste settled the erratic nerves inside me.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Attikus asked me.

“Water would be great. Thank you.”

He walked over to the drink stand.

“You have a package.” Willow handed me a small brown box. “Maybe it’s a gift from a collector who couldn’t make it today.”

I’d received lovely handwritten letters congratulating me in the last few days from loyal fans around the country.

“A gift on opening day?” Attikus returned with my drink and placed it on the tall table. “Let me help you.” He reached into his pocket for a pen. Then he twisted the other end of it, revealing a small blade. He cut the tape and handed me the box.

“You have dangerous gadgets.” I smiled. “Thank you.”

I opened the box, saw the bloody finger, screamed, and dropped it. Fear for my mother overwhelmed me. My body swayed as I met Attikus’s concerned eyes.

Then I blacked out.