The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1) Page 10

  “Don’t apologize,” Tristan said sternly, as he pushed his glass of wine to the side of the table, “you don’t have to finish it. I just thought it might help you relax and the chardonnay is really excellent with the fish.”

  “No, please, you can drink yours, I didn’t mean to…” she stopped herself from rambling, trying to continue with a single coherent thought, “Please, I’d hate for you to not finish yours. It is very good and I’m going to drink some. It used to make me sick, so I’ve stayed away from it the past few years is all. I just don’t want to overdo it.”

  Tristan placed his hand on his wine glass, spinning the stem slowly between his fingers, watching her intently as she spoke. As an artist, he was trained to stare at people for extended amounts of time, to watch and notice every slight movement or alteration that could affect the final product. Consequently, he was very good at reading people when they spoke to him, hearing their words, but also their conscious and unconscious body movements which allowed him to read between the lines.

  He heard what she said - he heard her reasoning and it was the truth, but there was something about the way that she said it that told him it wasn’t the whole truth. There was the barest hint of sadness in her tone, something that she was trying to hide.

  But, it was the truth. He’d push her for the whole truth later. Without the alcohol, he was going to have to take this a little slower in order to make sure she remained comfortable with him.

  The annoying flirtatious waitress returned with their meal; the large plate of fish placed in the center of the table, along with the sides, and sharing plates given to each of them.

  “Please, let me know how you like it,” the waitress half whispered to him –another double-entendre for him to try to ignore.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Elsa,” Tristan requested as he took the liberty of dividing up the fish, starch, and vegetables onto each of their plates, serving Ellie first.

  She seemed taken aback for a second, as though she wasn’t expecting the change in topic, much less for the change to redirect to her. He watched her stay silent for a moment before cutting off a piece of the Branzino and tasting it. Her eyes closed as he knew the fish would be melting in her mouth – it was that good. Suddenly, his mouth was watering for what was in front of him, and it wasn’t the food. Watching her try the oysters and then fish was mesmerizing. The subtle expressions of enjoyment that played over her face were something to be exalted; she looked like she was trying to memorize every flavor and every texture as though she might never be able to taste these things again.

  Finishing the bite, her eyes peeled back open to catch his. “That is…” she began, “I can’t even describe it; it’s like candy.”

  He smiled at her description, knowing that she would enjoy it. He watched with gratification as she picked up her forgotten wineglass and took another sip – a real one, this time.

  She’s avoiding your question, Tristan.

  When she met his eyes again, she met the same stare that he had given her before. The one that said ‘don’t make me ask again.’

  “What do you want to know?” she asked, putting another bite of fish into her mouth.

  “Everything,” he replied blatantly, watching her eyes widen at the seriousness of his tone. “I guess why don’t you start with what you do, besides modeling of course,” he continued with a grin.

  “Why would you assume I do anything else?” she retorted in mock offense, drawing a laugh from both of them.

  “Well played. You are right, I make no assumptions,” he laughed, raising his hands in defeat.

  “Well, I actually don’t do anything else at the moment. The whole change of pace thing… I left my last job and I just started looking for something new when I saw the ad for this audition,” Ellie continued, biting her lip. He didn’t need to know about the few years that had lapsed between her last job and now, she thought.

  “I see. So, why did you leave your last job?” Tristan pried.

  “Well, I was only working with my father,” she began with a small laugh, as if that would explain everything, “but, I just felt like I needed a change.”

  Tristan’s whole face darkened at the mention of Jack Carter; he hadn’t expected the man to be brought up so early in their conversations, but he wouldn’t complain. The mention of Ellie’s father and the opportunity to press her about him and her relationship with him completely distracted Tristan from the fact that she had only superficially answered his question.

  “And what does your father do?” Tristan asked, his curiosity betraying him.

  “He’s part owner at Carter and Young, the accounting firm,” she explained. Tristan missed the subtle sense of relief that had entered her tone when she realized he wasn’t going to press her about why she needed a change.

  “So, you’re an accountant? I can’t imagine having to work with my father.”

  Or yours.

  Tristan and his father used to get along, before they found out that Viola had cancer; that changed everything. His father had been distant, pulling away from everyone and everything except his sick wife. When she died, they’d both been devastated; Tristan had looked to his father for love and comfort, but found none as the man was too lost in his grief. Without Viola, it was like Tristan didn’t even matter and so, the rift between them was cemented.

  Tristan lost himself in his work, finding less and less time to go back home to try see his dad or even talk to him. It was one of the other reasons he was here, besides their most recent exhibit; his dad was getting older and Tristan wanted to try to salvage some part of their relationship before there was no time left. The start of which was going to be when he gave his dad the portrait of his mother.

  Which he could no longer do because of Jack Carter.

  Tristan felt the familiar burn of rage streaming through his veins. His eyes narrow on Ellie and for a second, he tried to allow that rage to incinerate all of his need for her and replace it with only his desire for revenge; he’d like to think that the revenge had won out, which is why he completely ignored the nagging feeling in his chest that suggested that it hadn’t. The second passed and he quickly reigned in his vengeful emotions before they could betray him and scare her away, his face returning to that of an interested and intrigued date.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” she replied with a joking smile, looking up from her plate just as the anger was wiped from Tristan’s face. “No, really, my dad is great and working for him was a lot of fun, spending that time together; he’s always been there for me, helping me and supporting me and it was no different when I started to work for him.”

  Tristan felt his fist clench around his fork at the praises Ellie was heaping on her conniving ass of a father, not to mention the warm and loving smile the thought of him brought to her face.

  “And no, I wasn’t an accountant. My degree is just in Business, so I was the assistant to the operations manager for the firm helping with overall business management and internal procedures and protocols,” Ellie continued to clarify.

  “So then why did you leave?” Tristan probed.

  “Well…” she paused, some color returning to her cheeks, “I just realized that I wanted to do something on my own, not that I didn’t enjoy working there, but I was more involved with the rules and regulations and less in a consulting capacity, which is what I enjoy.” Here, she paused again, as if there was more to the phrase than just the work aspect. “I wanted a change of pace, to do something that had more freedom, less rigidity. So, it had nothing to do with my dad; he’d be happy for me no matter what I choose to do. I think the only thing that he was mad about, although it was more like sad, was that he wouldn’t get to see me every day, but he wants me to be happy,” she concluded, a small smile spreading over her face, accompanying the look of love that was almost enough to make him break.

  “I see,” his response coming out colder than he intended.

  Ellie’s brow furrow slightly at his tone as sh
e reached again for her wine glass that she’d managed to have a solid half of.

  “So, you’re very close with your father.” It wasn’t as much of a question to her as it was a statement to himself that there was a good relationship between the two of them, and that his plan to retrieve his drawing was going to hurt Ellie two-fold – first by destroying her feelings for him, and then by hurting her father.

  “Yes, very,” her response again accompanied by a smile, “are you?”

  “No,” he replied flatly, hating the way that her face lit up when she talked about her dad. Hating it because it was Jack Carter or hating it because he wanted her to light up that way about him, he couldn’t be sure.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, empathetically.

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault, we’re just very different people and it’s always been hard for us to get along,” he explained.

  “So, you don’t really talk to him?”

  “No, not since my mother died; she kept us both in check, without her, everything kind of just fell apart and neither of us had the will to piece it back together,” Tristan offered, stopping himself abruptly to wonder why he’d felt the need to reveal all of this to her.

  Sure, it would make her feel more comfortable, but there were a thousand other ways to go about that other than revealing his family turmoil. Thankfully, before he blithely revealed more personal details about his life, their waitress reappeared to see if they wanted dessert. Both too full for any more food, Tristan declined and asked for the check. She set the bill on the table, thanking them for coming in tonight. He tried not to flinch when she had the audacity to put her hand on his shoulder as she said that she looked forward to seeing them again soon.

  Taking the bill, he paid in cash just to not have to deal with their waitress again.

  “Ready?” he asked, standing up.

  “Sure,” Ellie replied, following his lead.

  Once outside, Tristan took them to a nearby coffee shop to get some hot chocolate, suggesting walk back to his apartment building.

  “Does that happen a lot?” Ellie blurted out, as they began to walk.

  “What?”

  “Women, throwing themselves at you,” Ellie replied, biting her lip on an amused smile.

  “Ahh,” Tristan sighed, “I’d hoped she hadn’t been that disgustingly obvious, otherwise I would have requested a new server.” She gave a small nod, waiting for him to answer her question. “I don’t know what ‘a lot’ would be, but I would say that it happens more than I would like.”

  “I see,” she murmured.

  Tristan waited, let the silence sit between them, kind of enjoying letting Ellie take control of the conversation, knowing that she felt some sort of comfort level to do so; it seemed like the small amount of wine she had was taking effect.

  “So, what did you learn?”

  “About what?”

  “About me. Did you learn enough to start the piece?” She looked up at him expectantly.

  Tristan laughed. “I don’t think it works quite how you are thinking, but I might start a few preliminary sketches tonight,” he began, taking a sip of the hot cocoa, “I learned that you are very perceptive, even when I think you aren’t paying attention.”

  He watched Ellie smile at his reference to her previous question about the waitress. “I learned that you are very close to your father, and from the way that you talk about him and think about him, that you must mean very much to him, too. You used to be a fan of rules and order, and part of you still is, but another part of you is trying to silence it. You are adventurous, trying oysters for the first time without hesitation. You care about not disappointing others, like when you faked your first sip of wine when it was brought to us,” he revealed with another laugh.

  A blush stole into her cheeks when she heard that he knew. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize, but it really was good. I did drink almost half the glass!” she insisted, laughing at herself.

  “You aren’t afraid to laugh at yourself,” he added in, just as they stopped in front of his building.

  “Is that all?” she teased him, surprised by all of the things he’d listed already.

  Tristan stepped closer to her, towering slightly over her, again impressed and encouraged when she didn’t step back from him. He relished when his movement caused her lips to part slightly, pupils dilating with desire at their now very close proximity.

  “You seem to have a very low opinion of yourself and how others see you, especially when it comes to your looks and behavior, writing yourself off as awkward,” he finished, his tone changing to something more serious.

  “And how do you see me?” she whispered back bravely, her glassy green eyes turning up to his, shining with curiosity and longing.

  God, how he wanted her when she looked like this – innocent and craving him.

  “You are exquisite,” he replied softly, his free hand coming up to rest underneath her chin, “you are exquisite...”

  He trailed off, his lips inches from hers, their breaths mingling in front of them. His gaze hungry for her, hers expectantly waiting for the eminent kiss as she swayed into him; the potent combination of alcohol and desire intoxicating her and entrancing him.

  Tristan wanted to pull away, to not give in again so soon, but suddenly, everything around them faded into the distance – the buildings, the traffic, the people walking by; there was only the two of them and he wanted nothing more than to set her desire free, to be the one to encourage and explore her passion that was just aching to break through.

  Fuck.

  There was no stopping it; he needed to taste her again.

  His lips touched hers, ever so softly at first; the relief of not holding himself back any longer when she was right in front of him was immeasurable. The moment of relief quickly passed as the contact sent fire scorching through his veins, his body immediately erect and on edge with need. When he felt the sigh that escaped her silky, soft lips, the last vestiges of his restraint broke.

  Slanting his lips over hers, his hand now cupped the side of her face and drew her even closer to him. His tongue played over the seal between her lips for a moment before the soft barriers gave way to the treasured depths of her mouth. He groaned, the sweet warmth of her mouth accentuated by the hot chocolate that she’d just been drinking.

  He teased her tongue, drawing it out and encouraging her to explore. Need shot straight to his groin when he felt the hesitant touch of her tongue enter his mouth to toy with his. He moved closer to her, wishing he wasn’t still holding the damn hot chocolate so he could pull her flush against him. In his frustration, he pulled her lower lip into his mouth, gently biting down and sucking on the tender skin causing a moan to escape from her parted lips.

  “Tristan…” Ellie moaned as he released her lip. The sound of her voice, breaking through the barrier that had been surrounding them. The noises and movements of their surroundings flooded back into his brain, reminding him that he was standing outside his apartment building, where anyone could see them.

  With a tortured groan, he stepped back from her, dropping his hand, and putting a respectable foot and a half between them.

  “Are we going back upstairs?” Ellie asked breathlessly, her face flushed with desire and anticipation.

  “No,” Tristan answered hoarsely, “I’m trying to maintain the shred of gentlemanliness that I have left. There’s a car waiting for you to take you home.” He nodded in the direction of a black sedan waiting at the edge of the sidewalk.

  “Oh…Of course,” she replied softly, her eyes still dazed from the kiss but now slightly dejected that their time together for the evening was over. “So, what is next?”

  “I have meetings all day on Monday, so come here at six on Tuesday and we’ll get started,” he said calmly, “and wear something comfortable.”

  Ellie nodded at his instructions before turning towards the car.

  “Good night, Ellie,” Tristan said, his voice still deep a
nd hoarse from wanting her.

  “Good night, Tristan. Thank you for dinner. And for your gentlemanliness,” she teased softly as she turned, letting her hips sway as she walked towards the curb, purposefully taunting him to be the devil he desperately wanted to be.

  He forced himself to turn and walk inside his building before he gave in and hauled her over his shoulder to have his way with her. He checked to make sure that she had gotten into the car before heading upstairs for a long cold shower. He could have kicked himself when she asked if they were going back up to his apartment.

  He wanted nothing more, but that wouldn’t have been good in the long run. No, he needed to control his lust for now, as well as hers, apparently – Christ, he hadn’t expected to want her so much.

  Chapter 10

  Tristan thought that taking those few days away from her would give him time to cool down and restructure his defenses; maybe it had to some degree when compared to seeing her every day, which is what his body desperately craved. But thinking that this would completely free his thoughts and desire from her had been unequivocally wrong. Ellie had lingered on his mind almost every moment as if she were standing right in front of him. He’d spent hours over the rest of the weekend sketching her face, her infinite expressions that he found himself remembering.

  The look of awe when she realized they were eating at Marea. The look of embarrassment that she got every time she realized she was nervously rambling. The look of delight when she tried the oysters and the Branzino. The look of adoration when she had spoken of her father. The look of sympathy when she realized that he no longer spoke to his.

  Most vividly, the look of intense desire and longing for him when he kissed her. Needless to say, he’d taken a lot of cold showers over the past few days.

  It was hard when he didn’t have very many other distractions, or at least ones that he wanted to indulge in. He’d stopped answering Pierce’s phone calls for the time being, not trusting himself to stay calm and not do something he would regret. He’d even avoided Morgan, keeping their conversations brief and to other topics; he trusted Morgan, but the less he knew, the better.