my glass, a slight flush coming to my cheeks. I wonder if he already knows.
“You can tell me,” Zander says gently. “I don’t judge.” I look up at him, searching his eyes for the reason he’s asking me, but I come up emptyhanded.
“I work at a soup kitchen, doing work for the homeless,” I tell him. “When I’m not working, I like to paint.”
“And you were ashamed to tell me that?” Zander asks.
I bite my lower lip. “It doesn’t pay well.” That’s an understatement.
“But does it make you happy?”
I nod. “In some ways. I like helping people. It makes me feel… complete.”
Zander eyes twinkle as he gazes at me. “I respect that, I really do. And I’d argue, loving what you do is more important than what a job pays.”
“Do you really think so? My bills don’t.” It’s a joke, but I sound absolutely serious.
Zander chuckles. “Can’t say I can argue with that.” Zander arches a curious eyebrow. “And what about your painting?”
I hesitate. I like my artwork, but I’m not sure if Zander will, or anyone else for that matter. I don’t paint it for others; it’s only for me.
“I think I have a picture here in my cell somewhere,” I mumble.
“Can I see?” he asks, his tone filled with inquisitiveness that makes me want to show him.
I dig out my cell from my clutch and flip through the photos until I find a picture of one of my paintings. It’s on the darker side with a woman lying down on a bed while looking out of a small window. It’s not some picturesque painting. Not a classic, like a gorgeous landscape of rolling green hills and an azure blue sky. She’s haunted by something that keeps her in her room, although I don’t know what.
My throat is dry as I pass him the phone, my palm feeling sweaty and my nerves making me nearly regret showing it to him. Zander takes more than a moment to look over it, his eyes moving slowly across the screen before passing my phone back. “That’s beautiful, Arianna,” he compliments me, a note of respect entering his voice. “You’re very talented.”
“It’s a little…” I trail off as I try to think of the right word to defend it before he can question it, but he fills in the word for me.
“Haunting,” he says and his voice is firm. “It’s in her eyes.”
I nod my head, not trusting myself to respond verbally. “It really speaks to how well you’re able to paint emotions. Not everyone can do that.”
I blush furiously at his praise, my self-confidence rising several notches. “Thank you,” I say softly.
The waiter returns with both of our plates and I’m shocked to see how quickly time has gone by. The smell of sweet butter and herbs wafts toward me, and my mouth waters.
We’re both quiet as the meals are set in front of us, although I notice Zander checking his phone.
“Is everything alright?” I ask him when we’re alone again.
He gives me a smile, picking up his utensils and answers, “It’s perfect.”
Chapter 13
Zander
I’m rewarded with a small smile as I set my hand on Arianna’s thigh as I readjust in my seat in the back of the Mercedes. I wonder if she’s ever been treated this way before. It’s not so difficult. A sweet gesture here and there, and alone time over a nice meal.
“I had a really nice time,” she says so quietly I almost don’t hear her. But then she clears her throat and looks up at me through thick lashes and speaks more clearly, “It was more than I expected, thank you.”
But the way she’s acting, it’s as if she’s never been fed. Like she’s never been told that she’s beautiful.
It’s hard to believe it’s true.
“Thank you for accompanying me,” I tell her as the car slows down in front of her house.
I expected dinner to be filled with uncomfortable silence, but there wasn’t a moment that conversation didn’t happen easily and naturally. “We have a dinner this weekend as well.”
“Another?” she says and her voice brightens and forces a small laugh from me.
“Yes, you may find it hard to believe, but I eat almost every day. Sometimes several times a day.” The joke comes out easily and makes her smile. That sweet one that shows she’s honestly happy. It warms my chest to know I put it there.
As Marcus stops the car, I’m quick to open my door and wait for his eyes to catch mine in