"Nothing. She watched a full five minutes of the broadcast then turned away as if nothing had happened. She didn't ask me any questions about you or about what was going on."
"Where is she?"
"Her studio and before you ask, she was good as gold today. She even saw her father and ignored him."
"Senator Hargrove? Where? When? And what the fuck did he say to her?"
Bruno shrank back from the paper. "Chill, boss. The dude was at a fundraiser. He didn't see her, and she certainly didn't attempt to talk to him."
Exhaling, I took another glance at the rather grainy photograph in the paper. I don't know who had the balls to take it, but they'd done it while we were dancing. Fuming wasn't going to do any good.
"O-kay. She doesn't like to shop. Just wanted to come back here and paint."
She needed the one thing that comforted her. "You can take the night off, Bruno. Two soldiers are outside."
"Not a chance, boss. You need to spend quality time with your lady, which includes complete privacy and security. I mean, if you don't mind me saying so."
"Then check with Angelo and Jo-Jo in a couple hours. The streets need to be swept clean. And the boys we have on lockdown, make certain they find out something."
"I got ya, boss. The streets will sparkle by in the morning, birds singing up a storm." His grin covered his entire face.
"Go easy. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention." I yanked off my jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair then unfastened my holster. Reminders of my life even I didn't want at this moment. I had to get through to Caroline tonight, and obviously my methods weren't working. If she wanted to believe I was such a horrible man, then she was going to learn just how much of one I could be.
I didn't mask my approach, storming toward her studio, the very one I'd created for her. The door was open a crack and I could hear the subtle strains of jazz music. I waited just outside, listening as she hummed, the sound so melodic and calming. After pushing open the door, I was unable to advance, stunned by her appearance.
She was dressed in a men's white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and I could see no indication of anything underneath. Her feet were bare, her toes polished in flames of red and her long and curvaceous legs seemed to go on forever. Even the way she'd pinned her hair in a haphazard bun, strings falling against her lovely neck, curling along her high cheekbones was sexy as hell. I held my breath as she swished the brush then dabbed the end in a circular pattern.
She'd been busy, painting furiously and every scene was more magnificent than the one before. I finally entered, taking careful steps.
Caroline jumped, almost knocking over her canvas. Immediately she shut down, her face pinched as she glared at me. Even as her lower lip quivered, her eyes were filled with biting hate. "I was hoping to hear about your dead body on the news in the morning, blown into a thousand pieces of flesh and bone."
"Were you, Caroline? If that's the case, then your earlier threat would have been for naught." Drips of paint covered the crisp white cotton, even smears where she'd wiped her hand clean. I realized she'd taken one of my shirts, a gesture of her anger, but she couldn't realize how little I gave a shit.
She rolled her eyes.
I eased mine down from her lips to her cleavage, unable to take them off the rise and fall of her chest. Everything she did, she did so with a purpose and the fact only a few buttons were fastened screamed of seduction.
She seemed to collect herself, going back to her painting but every few seconds, she took the opportunity to study me, darting glances. Her breathing remained scattered. Even her hand was trembling.
"No one was hurt in the blast." I walked around several of the paintings, taking my time to scan each one.
"Why are you telling me? What should I care if criminals die?"
"Except they're not criminals, Caroline. Just people who need a job in order to survive like you and me."
"You're nothing like the working-class people, Dominick. Nothing."
As I moved closer to a group of paintings on the floor, I sensed her discomfort.
"Those aren't finished." Her normally sultry voice was sharp, laced with apprehension.
I eased two aside and there was nothing that would have prepared me for the intense yet gorgeous painting hiding underneath. I was thrown, unable to comprehend why she would have created something so breathtaking. I was drawn into the world easily, able to hear the roaring surf lapping at the shoreline. "My God."
I could feel her standing behind me. "Why, Caroline? If you hate me so much, why would you paint such beauty? Why would you pretend in such a ridiculous fashion?" I wanted to rip it to shreds, my anger was so ardent.
"I wasn't pretending," she mewled.
I laughed bitterly, taking another look. The serene setting included a beach house positioned by the ocean, the turquoise blue of the water and the froth of the waves coming alive from the bold brushstrokes. A stunning sunset splashed vibrant colors across the sky, cascading down to the couple so obviously in love.
And there was no mistaking their identity, the likeness drawn with a skilled hand.
"And I don't hate you, Dominick, only the man you've been forced to become. I saw the other side, one so sweet and passionate that I wanted more. You let go with me in the SUV. I could see such joy in your eyes. You were free and open. I adore that man."
"That man doesn't exist, Caroline. You've said so yourself. I'm evil, the devil."
"No! I don't believe that. I just... I refuse to believe that man doesn't exist. You already reminded me that every one of us has two sides. Show me that man."
My hand shook from the heady dose of adrenaline as I reached out, my fingers moving over the lines, even though they would never touch the sacred canvas. Inhaling, I clenched my fist, fighting the range of emotions building to the point of explosion. "You shouldn't have done this."
"Why not, Dominick? I painted this as a gift and I honestly don't why. I knew you'd react this way. Jesus. Has no one ever been kind to you?" When I didn't answer, she shook her head. "You're right. I shouldn't have wasted my time. There is no reason I should have included myself in the painting, but it felt right. I just..." She backed away quickly, her words tapering off. A warm flush crept along her jaw, moving to her cheeks. I could swear there were tears in her eyes. "You can do whatever you want with it. Destroy the painting. Hang it. Laugh with your buddies. I don't care."
"This is beautiful, Caroline. I would never destroy your work. It's too precious."
The words hung in the air.
"I shouldn't have said those horrible things to you. That's not me. That might be your world, but I'm not that kind of person. You didn't deserve that."
"Is that all there is, Caroline? You can tolerate me because you live in a different world, a glass house where nothing ever goes wrong? Do you really think that the fake life you led was so much better than mine?"