Chapter 27 Bare before me

Chapter 27 Bare before me


Nyx's p.o.v

Matthew ordered me out, insisting I wait outside. I could hear their hushed voices, Matthew's eager to please. Travis' disdain filled.

I tapped my legs impatiently as I wondered what Travis meant by ‘whats to come,’

I didn't have to think long because he marched out, my eyes locked on his blue iris, it held a dangerous glint in it.

What was he up to.

“Nyx, get back here,” Matthew called from the office. I glared at Travis and walked past him. Shutting the door.

Matthew cleared his throat, fingers steepled like a judge about to pass sentence.
“There’s been a request,” he said smoothly. “One of our investor. The one outside. Important man. Very important.” His eyes flicked to the door, then back to me. “He wants a private commission.”

My stomach tightened. “What kind of commission?”

Matthew smiled, the kind that never reached his eyes. “A nude.”

The word rang in my head.

A what?

Travis wants her to paint him naked? The thought struck so sharply I almost laughed.

That wasn’t right. That didn’t make sense. I shook my head immediately.

“I don’t do that,” I said, firmer than I felt.

“I’m not one of those artists. I don’t paint people naked.”

Matthew’s expression hardened. In two long strides, he crossed the room and grabbed my wrist, his fingers biting into my skin.

“You will,” he said quietly. “Because I need this investor. And because you like working here.” His grip tightened. “You’ll do whatever he wants, Nyx. Or you’re done. Fired. No references. Nothing.”

My chest burned. This job was everything my escape, my sanctuary, the one place I felt seen for my talent and not my past. I swallowed hard, blinking fast as tears gathered, refusing to let them fall.

Slowly, helplessly, I nodded.

“Good,” Matthew said, releasing me like I was nothing. “Now take him to the private art room. Offer him our service.” His lips curved. “Our best one.”

I stepped out of the office on unsteady legs.

Travis was leaning against the wall, arms folded, all confidence and arrogance, his handsome face twisted into a dark scowl.

The moment his blue eyes met mine, something sharp and unreadable flickered between our desire tangled with dislike, heat laced with resentment.

“Follow me,” I said spitefully, turning on my heel before he could respond.
His footsteps echoed behind me, unhurried.

“You might want to slow down,” he drawled. “Your ass jiggles when you walk. Ignites a response.” A pause. “You wouldn’t want to draw me while I’m hard.”

I cursed him silently, my jaw tightening as I shoved open the door to the private art room.

The space was dimmer than the main studio, used only occasionally clean, quiet, intimate in a way that made my skin prickle. I stepped inside first, heart pounding, fully aware that once the door closed behind us, there would be no pretending this was just another commission.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing us in the hushed dimness of the private room. The air felt thicker here, scented faintly with old paint and turpentine, and every breath I took seemed to echo too loudly.

Travis stood just inside the threshold, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same dangerous glint in his eyes like he already owned every inch of this moment.

I crossed my arms, forcing my voice steady. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, a slow, predatory smile curving his lips. “Because I can.”

I blinked, heat rising in my cheeks. “That’s it? Just… because you can?”

He took one lazy step closer. “You made it very clear Nyx. Said I’d never touch you again. Never fuck you again.” His voice dropped, rough and deliberate. “So now you’re going to look. You’re going to sit there and stare at my cock until it’s burned into that pretty little memory of yours.

Every vein, every inch. You’ll see it when you close your eyes. And you’ll know exactly what you told me I couldn’t have anymore.”

My throat tightened. A traitorous pulse beat between my legs even as anger flared hot in my chest.

He let the silence stretch, savoring it.
Then he glanced pointedly at his watch.

“Begin, Nyx. Before I decide your boss needs to hear about your refusal. About your… disobedience to a client.”

The threat landed exactly where he meant it to. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting crescents into my palms. I turned away from him sharply, dragging the easel into position with more force than necessary. The legs scraped loudly against the floor. I set the fresh canvas on it, primed and waiting like a traitor.

I dropped onto the stool, gripping the charcoal so hard I nearly snapped it.

“Stand over there,” I said, voice flat and cold. “And undress, uncle.”

The last word came out laced with venom, a sharp reminder of the line he kept pretending wasn’t there.

He chuckled low, dark, amused. The sound slid down my spine like fingers.

Then he moved.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

His jacket slid off his shoulders first, folded once and set aside with infuriating care.

The tie followed, tugged loose and draped over the chair. Each button of his shirt undone one by one, revealing inch after inch of hard, scarred chest. Old marks, some pale, some raised crisscrossed the muscle like stories he’d never tell. My mouth went dry.

Heat swept across my forehead, a thin sheen of sweat I prayed he couldn’t see.
When the shirt finally hit the floor, he paused, letting me look. Letting me suffer.
His hands dropped to his belt.

The clink of the buckle was obscenely loud in the quiet room.

I swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the canvas that was still blank, and waited for what came next.

“Travis you don't have to do this,” I said after battling with myself.

He chuckled slowly. “Will you let me fuck you again?” He said bluntly.

I bit my lips hard, I could taste blood.

I heard him laugh. “It will happen,
baby, and you will want it just as much as I will but for now, you will see me.” He smirked. “Every part of me.”