Chapter 8: Oh!

Alexia stood in her studio, the smell of turpentine and fresh paint filling the air as she worked on a canvas. Crimson and black streaked across the surface, bold and chaotic, with sharp bursts of blue interrupting the darkness. She paused, stepping back to study it. The strokes felt raw but incomplete, like her thoughts.

Her phone buzzed on the workbench beside her. Wiping her hands on her paint-smeared jeans, she picked it up and smiled faintly at the name on the screen.

"Myra."

"Morning! Didn't expect to hear from you this early."

Alexia sat on the stool by the easel. "Wanted to check on you. How was last night?"

A soft laugh came through the phone. "Edward's great—funny, kind, even insightful. It was nice to feel... normal for once."

"You deserve that. A night where you don't have to think about anything else."

"What about you? Elliot didn't follow you out of the club, did he?"

"No," said Alexia, glancing back at the canvas. "I stayed a little longer. Just needed to breathe."

"Alexia—"

"I'm fine," she interrupted.

"Let's meet for lunch. Stella's Café, two o'clock?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Good. We'll talk more then. Don't forget—you're stronger than you think."

Alexia hung up. Turning back to the canvas, she picked up her brush, adding streaks of blue that sliced through the chaos. Her movements slowed as her mind replayed Elliot's words from the night before.

She didn't realize she'd stopped painting until she caught her reflection in the window. The contrast between the vibrant canvas and her expressionless face was unsettling.

Shaking off the thought, she refocused and let the brush take over.

Elliot knocked on the door of the luxury suite. A moment later, it opened to reveal Ava, her warm smile brightening the room.

"Elliot," she said, stepping aside to let him in. "It's been too long."

"Far too long," Elliot replied, stepping into the suite.

Ben emerged from the other room, his handshake firm. "You're looking well. Busy as ever?"

"Always."

They exchanged pleasantries before moving to the plush sitting area. A velvet-lined box rested on the coffee table, catching Elliot's attention.

"I have something for you," Ava said, gesturing to the box. She opened it to reveal a striking garnet-red jewelry set: a necklace, earrings, a bracelet, and a ring.

"Crimson red," Ava said, holding up the bracelet. "Her birthstone, isn't it?"

"Actually, it's garnet for January," said Elliot, as his gaze was fixed on the delicate pieces. "She'll wear them eventually."

"She will," said Ava. "If not now, soon."

She set the bracelet down and picked up the necklace. "There's more. Shoes and a matching purse—custom pieces. I'll send you the specs so you can choose the designs. You'd know best."

"You've thought of everything."

"Someone has to keep you on track."

"She's right. Ava's the one you don't want to underestimate. Looks sweet, doesn't she? Don't let that fool you. I mean it," said Ben seriously. "She's more dangerous than I am."

Ava rolled her eyes but smiled. "Ben, stop it."

Elliot looked between them, noting the ease in their dynamic. Ben's admiration for Ava was honest, and Elliot found himself quietly hoping for that kind of connection with Alexia someday.

They shifted topics briefly, discussing logistics and updates on other ventures. Before Elliot rose to leave, Ben invited him to visit Rome.

"When things settle," said Ben. "You're always welcome."

Ava added with a soft laugh, "Be good, Elliot."

Elliot walked toward the door to leave, and as the door started to close slowly, he heard a giggle from Ava. He glanced back briefly, catching the way Ben smiled at Ava. For a moment, the envy of their deep connection caught him by surprise.

Maybe one day, Alexia.

Alexia arrived first at Stella's Cafe, choosing a quiet corner table by the window. She glanced outside; her gaze unfocused as she replayed Elliot's words from the night before in her mind.

When Myra walked in, her yellow summer dress turned a few heads. She spotted Alexia immediately and waved.

"Hey!" Myra greeted her as she slid into the seat across from Alexia. "You look deep in thought. What's going on?"

 "Just trying to process some things. You're glowing, by the way. Edward?"

Myra laughed lightly, her cheeks flushing. "He's... something else. I haven't felt like this in a long time. It's easy with him, you know?"

"I'm happy for you, Myra. You deserve this."

"And you," Myra began, leaning closer, "deserve answers. So, what's the deal with Elliot?"

"He told me why he left. His father was involved with... dangerous people. When his dad died in a car accident, they came after him. He said he walked away to protect me."

 "You believe him?"

"I don't know," Alexia admitted. "Part of me does. The way he said it... it felt real. But after everything, it's hard to trust him."

"I get that. But I've known you a long time, Alexia. You've always been good at reading people, even when you don't want to admit it. What does your gut say?"

"That he's hiding something. There's more to the story, but he's not ready to tell me."

"Then take it one step at a time. Don't let him pull you in until… you're sure."

"So, Edward's taking me to one of his resorts this weekend."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's got a place in Bermuda. I wasn't sure at first, but... I think I'm ready to trust him. It feels right."

 "I'm glad for you. Really. You've found something good."

"And you will too," said Myra. "Elliot may have his reasons, but don't let him control you. Ah… this salad looks good, let's eat."

"Let's hope I figure out his story sooner rather than later."

Alexia returned to the estate. Tired but restless, she headed to her studio, craving the solace of her brushes and paints.

"What the hell!" The easel stood where she'd left it, but the HATE painting was gone.

Everything was as it had been—except for the one painting that mattered most.

"No!" There was only one person who could've done this.

Alexia stormed out of the studio, and each step fed her fury.

She found him in his study, seated at his massive mahogany desk, poring over a stack of documents. He glanced up as she burst in, his calm expression barely shifting.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

"You know exactly what. My painting. HATE. It's gone."

Elliot exhaled slowly, standing and meeting her gaze. "Alexia—"

"Damn you, Elliot!"

Alexia turned and left, her anger trailing behind her like a storm.

Elliot stood there as she left. "Oh!"