“Can I show you something?” I asked, as my girlish excitement made me bounce on my toes.
Without waiting for his answer, I turned around to grab the large canvas tilted to the left of the French doors. My heart trilled with nerves as I turned to prop it on the easel. I avoided looking back at Sinclair as I stepped back into line with him so that he could see the painting unobstructed. It was the one I had been slaving over between my projects for the art gallery opening but I had only finished it yesterday.
It was based on the sketch I had started in Mexico, the one with the two contrasting lovers a breath away from a kiss. It was my favorite piece in my growing collection because it was so clearly Sinclair and I, lost in the murky shadows but burning so brightly our features were nearly obscured in the blaze.
I looked up at him, bouncing maniacally now, but his gorgeous face betrayed no emotions.
“Well?”
His lips twitched and he crossed his arms. “Well what, siren?” His grin broke free when I hip checked him. “It’s simply remarkable.”
“You think?”
He turned to face me, taking my hands in his so that he could stare down at them. My nails were industriously short and there were smudges of charcoal across the thumb and forefinger on my right hand from sketching earlier but Sinclair gazed down at them as if they were precious gems. He brushed each finger with his lips, slowly and reverently, before looking down into my eyes.
“I know. You are extraordinarily gifted, Giselle, and beyond that, you are brave. Exploring the hidden side of lust and longing is not for the faint of heart,”
“No,” I agreed, thinking of us. “It isn’t. But I’m hoping that it’s worth it in the end.”
Chapter Fourteen.
Apart from Mama’s, Prune was my favorite restaurant in New York, particularly for the insanely busy Sunday brunches so I was pleased when my blind date suggested the restaurant for our outing. I decided to walk there, even though it was on the opposite side of Manhattan and I had to say goodbye to Sinclair earlier than I wanted to. He had stayed overlong with me anyway, heading over three hours later than usual into the office. His tardiness delighted me.
The Indian summer was finally ending and the breeze was cool between the tightly packed buildings but I welcomed it. Since Sinclair had left, my heart had stopped racing but my body was still flushed with the memory of his touch. My nipples scraped against the lacy material of my bra, sensitive from his mouth and the clothespins. In the aftermath of last night, my skin was so responsive that it was hard to resist the urge to touch the swell of my tastefully exposed breasts or the delicate inside of my wrists where Sinclair had nibbled just that morning.
The only thing that intruded on my memories – apart from the occasional New Yorker’s elbow – was the prickly feeling at the base of my neck. At first, I thought it was a stray itch, one that I scratched until the skin was raw, but as I neared the restaurant the feeling grew until I was almost certain someone was following me. Looking over my shoulder and finding unfamiliar faces every time didn’t alleviate my growing anxiety.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the first number on my speed dial.
“Hello?” Cosima’s throaty voice was breathless. “Bambina, what is the matter?”
“Would you think I was crazy if I said someone was following me?”
There was a long pause and a vague cacophony on the other end of the line.
“How long?”
I exhaled loudly, grateful but unsurprised that she believed me. Cosima had always had a suspicious mind and given her close association
with the Camorra in Napoli and the black eyed Dante I knew she had experience with this kind of thing.
“About fifteen minutes,” I guessed, walking a little more quickly as the heat of paranoia lit me on fire.
“Okay,” Cosima spoke calmly but I could still hear the mess of her movements in the background and even the low register of a male voice. “Stay on a busy street. Where are you going?” I told her and she thought about it for a second before continuing, “I hope you are wearing something cute, bambina, you have been too lonely since your mystery lover in Mexico.”
“Shouldn’t I cancel if someone really is following me?”
“No, it’s best if you keep to your normal schedule and go to lunch. You should be fine once you get into the restaurant but call me before you leave.”
There was more noise as she spoke with someone in the room with her. It could have been my imagination but I thought I heard a British accent.
“I can’t be home for a while more and I don’t want you to be at the apartment alone,” she said. “So, I just texted Elena and you are going to stay there tonight.”
“No,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.
“Gigi, now isn’t the time to pull the sibling rivalry card. Mama is working tonight and Sebastian is in Toronto. Until we figure out what is going on, it is safer for you to stay with family.” She hesitated before adding, “There have been a few strange phone calls to the apartment. A man asked for you the first time, but otherwise it is always silent on the other line. Please, stay with Elena tonight and let me take care of this.”
I chewed on my bottom lip as I focused on the pink awning of Prune in the distance. I really didn’t want to stay with Elena and her Daniel after I had just spent a remarkable night with my Sinclair. But I didn’t want to worry Cosima or be one of those stupid girls in horror films who goes against common logic and gets murdered.