Page 8 of The Maverick (WaterFyre Rising #7)

CHAPTER SEVEN

VANESSA

I blinked at his words. I’d expected him to ask me more questions before wanting to hear my proposal. But I supposed a billionaire like Attikus Mount was used to people tossing out proposals. I knew mine would probably be themost unexpected.

You don’t know that.

We were the only two people in this room. My body became fully aware of his presence. Energy resonated from his body, slamming into me. Though it was a hospital room, the intimacy was palpable. It thrummed in the air, tingling my skin.

Attikus stared at me, waiting for my reply. I stared back, still trying to process my thoughts. He didn’t press me, so I studied his attractive features close up. That was when I realized only one set of lights was turned on in the room. Did he leave the rest of the lights off for me to sleep?

The dim lighting made his brown irises look like spears of molten copper bursting around darkening pupils.

His angular face had the perfect bone structure.

I imagined the shadows rejoicing as they skipped along the tight creases on his forehead, climbed over the rise of his strong nose, and slid around the curve of high cheekbones to settle on his square jaw.

The contrast of dark and light over his lips did something strange to my stomach.

When he pursed his lips slightly, the muscles in my inner thighs flexed.

The mystery around him increased by the second. I wanted to discover him as though he was a painting. What was his history? What made him bleed?

What would make him smile ?

As an artist, I understood the beauty of contrast and composition. This man possessed those aspects perfectly. He was the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. But I would never tell him that. Men like him already had big egos. If they got any bigger, the world would be unlivable.

Beauty is deception, Vanessa.

Oh, I know. Emmanuel was that horrendous mistake.

But right now, I wanted to see, feel, and wonder about a man without consequences.

“Are you done staring?” he asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

My eyes darted to it as though it was a splash of paint that completed an artwork perfectly.

“I’m an artist, so I appreciate a great canvas when I see it. You have a well-balanced face.”

“Are you buttering me up for your proposal?” he asked with a straight face.

“No.”

That was the truth, but I could see why he wouldn’t believe me. What normal person would say that to a man she didn’t know well? Technically, he was my landlord. We weren’t even friends.

I shook my head clear of whatever trance I was under. “I was studying your face. It’s something I do—most artists do that often. I can’t help it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, and the tension in his forehead relaxed. “Your art captures your emotions. Now I know the depth in which you study something.”

“You’re an art collector, so you understand it too.”

He considered me. “Art was an escape for me?—”

He blinked as though he hadn’t meant to say that. “I mean, art is an escape for people. Just like writing and music. It takes you to another place, another time, so you can forget the pain.”

Did he know he spoke like an artist? These were deep words from a man who had endured too much. Only a man who had touched the darkest of the dark would know how to describe it beautifully.

I felt his pain like a serrated knife had scraped over a raw wound. I shivered at the sensation. There was more to Attikus Mount than the man staring at me.

I had no idea why I was sharing so much about myself with him. Maybe it was because he saw my vulnerability. Maybe because he was the only person I saw when I woke up in this hospital room.

Was I doing the right thing with this proposal? Or was I making a horrible mistake? Doubts swarmed me like nasty hornets, but I kept my focus on the idea that seemed more real the more I thought about it.

That horrific dream of seeing men holding down my mother to cut off her finger had tossed me into a panic.

When I woke and saw Attikus staring at me with concern, he yanked me away from that panic mode to help me land safely.

Even though he didn’t know what he had done, I considered that a sign from heaven—he was the path to my escape.

I entertained this idea when I saw the lovely couple in the art gallery. The man’s wife had tripped, and he caught her before she fell. At that moment, I had wondered if I’d ever have anyone to catch me during my fall.

Attikus kept his gaze on me, his eyes searching and probably wondering if I was being serious about my proposal.

I inhaled a breath and said, “Do you want to be my fake husband?”

His eyes widened as he studied me. Silence and something else pulsed in the room. After a moment, he rose from the chair, stepped over to the bed without using his cane, and sat on the edge.

“Why?”

“Because a smart business person like you would want to protect your assets.”

An eyebrow arched, and the slow way it moved on his forehead fascinated me.

“Is that so? You believe you’re my asset now?”

I pushed down the nerves multiplying in my stomach. Was this a bad idea? I didn’t know why, but I had the impression Attikus could be more dangerous than Emmanuel.

“You spent a lot of money on renovating the gallery. I want to help you profit by being successful and continuing my lease for years to come.”

He let out a half laugh. “If you want me to help you, I need the truth, Nessa.”

Would Attikus be the temporary help I needed to overcome this obstacle?

Could my proposal push Emmanuel away once and for all?

He probably sent that finger to scare me.

Threats about revealing my true identity and ruining my career had been his MO, but cutting off someone’s finger?

I never thought he was that violent. Plus, he didn’t know about my mother being in prison. Did he?

I’d tried ignoring Emmanuel for months, but he’d gotten violent. What if he showed up at my house or the gallery again? A restraining order wouldn’t be effective. I’d heard of women getting killed by their significant others even with a restraining order. I needed someone powerful by my side.

I licked my dried lips. “You might not help me if you knew the truth.”

He reached out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind my ear. His finger touched my skin, and tingles rippled through me.

“But if I don’t know, it’s an absolute no.

As a businessman, I need to scan the horizon and see things from all angles so I can anticipate what’s coming my way.

How can I fight a war if I don’t know my enemy or my surroundings?

” He tipped up my chin. “I don’t join a battle to lose. Nobody likes to lose.”

Of course, he was right.

“I’m being blackmailed, and I think if I was married to you, he’d leave me alone. The marriage would be fake. We can draft up a proposal. The time frame can be three to six months. After that, we can get it annulled.”

“Who’s blackmailing you?” The muscle in his jaw ticked.

“My ex-boyfriend, Emmanuel Valencia. We only dated for two months,” I said, unsure why I added that tidbit.

“What does he want?” His eyes darkened, reminding me of a lion ready to attack.

“Money.” I yanked at the bedsheet. “I’ve already given him a lot.”

“What does he have on you? Or rather, what do you need to protect?”

“My true identity.”

That eyebrow arched again. Why did I find it so attractive?

“Does that make me a victim of your false identity?” he asked.

“Nessa Lambert is my artist’s name.” My stomach clenched. “You invested in the artist. There’s no pretense.” I swallowed. “My real name is Vanessa Lam, and I killed a man.”