The By Request Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
have to worry.”
“Who said I was worried?” She forced a smile to her lips.
“No one has to say it. It’s written all over your face. The thing you don’t know is that all of the people on this job site signed a confidentiality agreement. They can’t share any photos of me or talk to the press about what they witness here. In fact, my security team confiscated their phones and deleted the photos.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Do you feel better?”
“Sì.” The worry of the paparazzi spinning one innocent holiday kiss out of control slid off her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go see it.” She reached for his hand to pull him along with her.
Her fingers slid over his warm palm. Her fingertips curled around his hand and she started toward the ballroom. Then she realized that she couldn’t be this familiar with the prince in public. Not unless she really did want people to talk. With much regret, she loosened her grip, but when she tried to withdraw her hand, he held on.
Her pulse quickened and her heart raced. In her imagination, she envisioned turning to him. He’d gaze into her eyes just before his head dipped and he kissed her properly. This time there’d be no anger. Instead, there’d be a sweetness to it—a yearning for two souls to blend as one.
A frustrated sigh passed her lips.
“What’s the matter?”
He had heard her? She’d have to do better at concealing her thoughts. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” He sent her an I-don’t-believe-you look, but before he could say more, she added, “Let’s go see the ballroom. When I checked on it yesterday, I thought it was coming along wonderfully.”
The oversized, white doors with gold trim were propped open and she rushed past them. The breath caught in her throat as she took in the massive changes to the room. The Roman pillars she’d insisted Demetrius splurge on lined both sides of the room. On the far side, between the pillars, were two sets of French doors. They led to a private terrace.
She turned to find Demetrius standing directly behind her. “What do you think?”
“I think you are very good at your job.”
A smile pulled at her lips. He liked it. He really liked it.
“And best of all, after the ball is over there is furniture ordered to make this an all-purpose room. Couches will be added on the side with the French doors. A group of tables will be added at the far end for card or board games. And over at the other end will be a bunch of armchairs and end tables for families to get together and visit.”
“It seems you’ve thought of everything.”
“I doubt it, but I’ve really tried to make this place as comfortable for everyone as possible.”
“I’m sure they’ll appreciate all of your hard work.”
“But there’s something missing.” She stepped into the middle of the room and turned all around. The smile slipped from her lips. She turned around again. This time slower. There was definitely something missing.
“What has you frowning? Is it the pillars, because I have to admit that you were right about them? They are exactly what a room this size needed.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the pillars. It’s something else.”
“Maybe it’s the paint. I think they only have up the first coat.”
“No. That’s not it, either.” She turned in a circle again. This time her gaze stopped on the interior wall. It was blank. Empty. Boring. “That’s it.”
“What’s it?”
“See this wall.” She moved to stand directly in front of it. “It needs something.”
“What do you have in mind? A group of paintings?”
She shook her head. “That would be a waste of the space.”
“Then what?”
And then it came to her like someone had just switched on a lightbulb. “A mural.”
“A what?”
“You heard me. A mural would be perfect here.”
He stepped next to her. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure or I wouldn’t have said it.” Her mind conjured up all sorts of scenes to fill this blank canvas.
“I guess you do know what you’re talking about. But where would we find an artist at the last minute capable of doing such work?”
“I think I know someone who can do it.”
“You do?” He turned and looked at her. “Are they available?”
She shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned it. Demetrius would probably find her idea preposterous when she told him the name of the artist.
“Zoe, are you trying to tell me that you want to paint it?”
This was her chance to put her artwork out there—to spread her wings so to speak. Besides, this was about the people who would eventually live here. They needed a welcoming, relaxing atmosphere, and she was convinced a mural would be just the ticket to pull the whole design together. “Sì.”
He rubbed his jaw as though seriously considering her proposal. That had to be a good sign, right? She willed him to go with the idea. Her mother for one would love it—if only Zoe could get her a room in the upscale residence.
Unable to take the silence any longer, she uttered, “Well, what do you think?”
* * *
Zoe pleaded with Demetrius with her eyes.
How could he deny her this?
He could feel any reservations he might have folding like a house of cards. “I think it’ll be perfect.”
She clapped her hands together in excitement. “Great! I can’t wait to start.”
Demetrius stared up at the big blank wall. A mural certainly would turn heads. But it was a huge task. The interior design already had Zoe so busy. He didn’t want her to wear herself out. “Are you sure you’re up for an additional project?”
Her face glowed with happiness. “I’m positive. The design is done. The color combinations work. The furniture is ordered. There’s nothing pressing at this point that requires my constant attention.”
“Okay. You’ve sold me on the idea.”
“You won’t be sorry. This is going to be fantastic.”
Her enthusiasm was contagious. He’d seen a little of her artwork in the past from her sketch pads. And she’d also shown him pictures of some paintings, mostly landscapes. They were colorful and captivating.
There was still one thing nagging at him—the time element. He stared up at the big blank wall. It was a wide-open space and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it’d take to paint a mural. He honestly didn’t have any clue.
“What’s bothering you?” Zoe’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.
“I was wondering how long it’d take to paint a mural.”
The light in her eyes dimmed. “You don’t think I can do it—”
“That isn’t what I said—what I meant. I know that you’re very talented and you can do anything you set your mind to. But do you have enough time for such a large project? Do you even know what you’d paint?”
She glanced up at the wall as though giving his words serious consideration. “I know you’re hesitant to add something new to the mix at this late stage, but I have a proposition for you.”