The Price of Art

Alexander's Point of View

I sat back in my chair, agitating the dark amber-colored liquid in my glass as the burden of having won so easily weighed on my shoulders. This night had been a triumph.

The moment I listed Mia's paintings for sale the second time, I was sure it would be killing. The auction had only verified my own intuition—her paintings were worth a fortune. And I owned the rights. Two billion dollars. Not bad at all on her first sale.

I gave Mia a sideways glance, a splash of reward, perhaps even a glimmer of pride in those eyes? But she sat motionless, her lips set in a tight line, her face expressionless. She wasn't happy. She wasn't even flinching. She was merely quiet. Tactful. I narrowed my eyes. Perhaps she didn't feel at ease here. After all, this was no run-of-the-mill party—this was the playground of the rich and powerful, where company was bought over cocktails and careers were wagered with a nod. Or maybe… she'd been mad because I'd sold her art without so much as a glance.

I took a sip from my drink, watching her. She was all keyed up. She'd been that way since we got there. What's wrong, Mia? Had she ever considered that she'd be getting paid to keep those works for herself? Throwing away her talent in some crummy apartment, painting for nobody?

I brushed the question aside as one of my art dealers, a middle-aged man with slick gray hair, leaned in close to me. "Nice job, Alexander," he whispered, his eyes once more on the painting. "I have to ask myself. who created this?" I didn't even blink. "It's not your business."Mia jumped next to me. I knew she'd heard it. Good.

I wasn't going to make her name a part of everyday vocabulary yet. That would complicate things. The dealer chuckled. "Ah, covering your sources, I see. Smart kid." I coldly smiled, raising my glass in a silent salute. Money had been made. I had won. But Mia's silence irritated me.

When I had completed my deals, I reached out and yanked Mia away from the group of onlookers. She did not struggle. Did not even care to ask where we were heading. Good.

She knew that we had to talk. I pushed open the door to a deserted hallway alongside the bathrooms, ensuring we were out of the way before turning to her. "Okay, Mia," I said directly. "What is with the attitude?" She crossed her arms, grudgingly looking at me. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb like you have with me, like you don't know what I'm talking about." I snapped. "you've been moody since we got here. What's wrong with you?" Her jaw was locked. "My problem? You sold my work without even bothering to tell me, Alexander." I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "I have ownership of your work, Mia. That's what you signed for.

"That doesn't mean you get to treat me like, like some sort of machine that just cranks out art for you to make money off of!" she spat. I leaned in, my voice low. "You really think that being stuck with your paintings piled up in some dirty, dingy apartment was better? You wouldn't have even attempted making this sort of profit on your own." She snorted. "So I should thank you?"

"Yes," I said firmly. She laughed incredulously. "You actually think that you're doing me a favor, don't you?" I grinned. "I know I am." She inflated her nostrils, and for an instant I was afraid she was going to slap me on the spot where I was standing. Then, Footsteps. I heard them before I saw them--two guys walking down the hall. Damn it. I didn't want them to hear what we were saying. So I did the best thing I could do. I kissed Mia. Wrapped my arms around her and kissed her. Her body froze in a moment, her flat palms against my chest in shock. Her lips were warm--softer than I'd expected. Her scent,sweet, mellowing, hit me like fresh air.

But it was a fake. It was all a facade. When the footsteps ceased. The moment they did, Mia elbowed me aside so hard I almost staggered. And then smack. The sting spread out across my cheek.

 "What the hell is wrong with you?!" She sneered. I rubbed my cheek over, the stinging of where she'd slapped me lingering, and snorted harshly. rubbed my cheek over , the stinging of where she'd slapped me, "Chill, Mia. I was protecting you."

"Protecting you?" She spat. "You assaulted me, Alexander." I shrugged. "Don't make so much drama. We needed an alibi. It worked." She stepped back, gasping. "Let me make one thing clear. Just because I signed a contract does not mean that I sold myself to you."

I gritted. "You need to play cool, Mia. You do not belong here, and if you don't, you will be eaten alive." Her eyes flamed with something I couldn't grasp. "Maybe I don't belong here. Maybe I don't want to belong here." She turned on her heels and walked back into the party. I tossed a frustrated hand through my hair and followed after her. This girl was going to be trouble.

But I wasn't going to let her ruin the night. By the time we were back in the main hall, By the time were in the main hall, Mia had regained her composure. She fit in with the others as if nothing had happened. Good girl. We both knew how to put on a face.

The night proceeded as planned—bargains made, hands shaken, lives altered. I kept a close eye on Mia for the rest of the night. Though she had once been a rebel, she complied. She smiled when spoken to. She stood beside me when needed. But I could feel the coals glowing in her eyes. She was not going to let this pass. And for the first time since the charade started, I wondered if I had misjudged her. She was not some ordinary painter. She wasn't any woman I could boss around. She was something different altogether. And that. was going to be interesting.