Tempted by Fate (The Fate Trilogy Book Two) by Sherilyn Gray Page B

He placed his hand on
the small of my back and guided me toward the wall of paintings. “I’m going to
say a quick hello to someone, I’ll be right back.”
     
    He left me standing in front of a massive
experimental piece, its neon colors swirling in and out of another, creating a
tornado-like image against a black background.
     
    “What do you think of this one?” A tall woman
who appeared to be in her late thirties appeared next to me adorned in a beaded
silk gown. She towered over me in her heels and I tensed up at the idea of
critiquing someone else’s art.
     
    “I think its bold.” I felt like that was the
safest response.
     
    “Go on,” she encouraged.
     
    It was clear she wasn’t going to back down
until I gave her my honest opinion so I considered the painting for a moment
longer, secretly hoping that she wasn’t the artist. “I think the use of neon
was smart, it immediately draws the gaze, but I’m not sure it should have been
set up next to a still-life. The contrast makes the focus of the gallery look a
little confused.” Before I’d even finished my sentence, my cheeks grew hot with
embarrassment—I wasn’t qualified to be making any judgements.
     
    “That’s an excellent observation,” the woman
said as she turned to me and reached out her hand. “I’m Marissa Jones, the lead
art director of Lotus.”
     
    My jaw clenched in horror as I shook her
hand; I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “Ms. Jones, I’m so—”
     
    “You know, we could really use a sharp eye
around here,” she cut me off. “I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the
other pieces in the gallery.”
     
    “My thoughts?” I asked, shell shocked.
     
    “Yes! Currently, we only have a part-time
position available but I like a girl who speaks her mind.” Marissa laughed.
     
    I hesitated, unsure of what to say. I was
eager to become a bigger part of the art world in San Francisco, and I
certainly wanted to put my knowledge to good use, but Victor and I had an
agreement—in exchange for food and shelter, I was supposed to work as his maid.
If Marissa offered me the position, it wouldn’t really be up to me if I could take
it. And what if he did let me take it? I wasn’t sure I could work my first real
job in two years and still give him the kind of attention the contract
demanded. There definitely wasn’t a clause that would let me off the hook for
being too tired or too busy for sex, and, honestly, I didn’t want to be off the
hook. Our sex life had reached a whole new level—I had never really known what
it was like to have my mind blown until my first experience in his bedroom.
     
    But I wanted the job, I was excited about the
idea of being surrounded by art all day every day, and I couldn’t deny that.
     
    I asked Marissa if she could give me a minute
and walked over to Victor, hoping he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of me
working outside of the mansion.
     
    “I think Marissa Jones might offer me a job,”
I said bashfully.
     
    “You think or you know?” he asked, turning
away from the crowd he’d been talking to and leaning in to me.
     
    “She says they have a part-time position
available and wants to hear my thoughts on the exhibit. If I impress her, I
think she’ll offer.”
     
    “I was hoping you’d have a chance to show off
some of your knowledge tonight. Don’t keep her waiting too long.”
     
    “Wait, you’re okay with this?”
     
    “You’re not my prisoner, Dove. If you want
the job, I’m not going to stand in your way.” He smiled at me and nudged me
back toward Marissa.
     
    I spent the next hour offering my opinions on
the pieces in the gallery and made a few layout suggestions. I practically
kissed Marissa when she offered me the job at the end of the evening.
     
    Dove the maid was out. I would be an
assistant curator of the city’s newest art gallery from now on.
     

Chapter
Seven
     
    The week before my first day in the office
was filled with activity.