her in warning, but the little vixen merely rolls her eyes at me.
“So…Chloe is your daughter, right? I remember reading about it in the newspaper,” Linda asks, making Graham tense.
All jokes aside, if there is one thing he won't take shit about, it's either of his girls.
“Yes,” he clips out, reaching for a roll and taking a large bite, effectively attempting to shut down the conversation.
“Do you have any photos?” she queries softly.
He pauses mid-chew, gauging her sincerity before pulling his phone out and unlocking it. Finally, after searching, he finds what he's looking for and hands it over to her. Linda’s face lights up the minute her eyes land on Chloe. It's hard not to, that little girl has the face of an angel.
Graham visibly relaxes as Linda's smile gets bigger and bigger with every photo she skips through before a blush steals over her face, and she hurriedly hands the phone back to Graham. With a frown, he stares down at the screen before chuckling.
“Soraya isn't big on me taking her picture, so I have to sneak them. I forgot that was there,” he admits, making me curious, but I keep my mouth shut.
Knowing Graham, it's likely to be a candid shot of his fiancée in bed, sleeping.
“She's beautiful. They both are,” Linda tells him.
“They are, aren't they?” He smiles proudly.
They study each other for a few moments before Graham slides his phone back into his pocket and holds out his hand to shake once more.
“Truce?” he offers.
She rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays over her lips. “Truce,” she agrees, shaking his hand, pulling back when our food arrives.
The rest of lunch runs smoothly, conversation flowing easier than before, and we manage to make it all the way through without any blood spilled whatsoever. Focusing so much on the two of them, however, made me forget the real reason for coming here.
It isn't until the three of us walk outside when we’ve finished and cameras capture our exit that I remember calling in the press and giving them a heads up that I would be here today. Graham adopts his usual scowl. Saying his goodbyes, he heads back to his car.
Linda buries herself into my shoulder, trying to shield herself from the cameras but I lift her head and press my lips softly against hers. Nothing salacious, just enough for the photographers to see I care about the woman in my arms and for Skittle to know that I have zero intention of hiding her.
Twenty-Five
Linda
Closing the door to the apartment behind me, I take a deep breath, glad to be away from the craziness outside. It is so easy to forget Asher’s status and wealth when we exist in our own little bubble, but now I guess the secret's out, although how they knew to find us there is beyond me.
After Asher dropped me off, he headed straight back to the office, meaning I now have plenty of time to finish up what I was working on before lunch. I head to the bedroom first, stripping out of my dress in favor of my short red shorts and a black tank top that's splattered with paint, and pull my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head. It will gradually work itself free, and it will end up speckled with paint before I've even realized, but for now, it's good.
Making my way over to the room Asher let me set up as a studio, I swing the door open wide and take a deep breath. The smell of paint is a calming balm, easing any tension the paparazzi brought on before, effectively wiping the stress of the day away as my veins flood with the need to create.
I’ve found making art can be much like writing in that it's easy to get stuck inside your head and find your creativity blocked for one reason or another. Since meeting Asher though, I've been nothing but inspired with ideas and images flooding my brain. So much so that it’s almost like the art creates itself, flowing effortlessly from my fingertips, and I’m just along for the ride.
Moving over to the painting I’ve been working on, I shake my head as I study it.
When I paint, I go into an almost trancelike state, my mind ignoring everything around me, even the painting itself as I move from one aspect of it to another. But looking at it now with fresh eyes, I notice the silhouette of