Beads of sweat rolled down Serena's face as she bent over the annealing oven to inspect her latest creation. She checked the temperature and smiled at the glorious riot of emerald green and indigo. A . . . paperweight, she supposed, although it might well end up sitting on a shelf, providing its owner with a bit of beauty. Very little of what she created was practical. Yes, it could be used; she made plenty of candleholders, bowls, and vases, but most of her things were made with the simple idea of beauty.
Satisfied that this piece was coming along quite well, Serena sighed and stood, arching her back until it cracked alarmingly. Another five new pieces had joined the several already standing on the shelves against one wall.
*Well, Darien's driving me crazy, but at least it's proving good for business.*
Her infuriating suitor had gotten into the habit of picking her up each evening for dinner, being his usual charming self, then depositing her back at her apartment, complete with more of those mind-blowing kisses that left her senseless.
The damn man seemed intent on turning her into one large quivering mass of hormones.
Fortunately, Serena had an outlet for the passion writhing within her; she couldn't ever remember having ideas come to her so easily and with such clarity. Colors and shapes whirled through her dreams, just waiting for her to bring them into being.
She was happy. Frustrated, but happy.
The phone rang again. She could hear it from the other room. Darien had tried to put a phone in here. Two, in fact. But she'd unplugged them and tossed them into the corner, along with the wall clock.
She figured that Darien would roll his eyes and mutter a prayer for patience if he knew, but she'd yet to let him into her studio. Surprisingly, he had immediately agreed when she asked him to keep out. She imagined he was used to dealing with artists' quirks.
Serena didn't want anyone watching her as she worked with her glass. She'd had enough of that while studying in the glass studios of Venice. Glass blowing was one of the things the city was most famous for, and most studios allowed tourists to come in and watch, for a price. Serena had found their ill-timed questions annoying and disrupting, and had sworn that she would always have privacy once she had a studio of her own. Her art was too . . . intimate. The idea that anyone could walk in and just stare at such a crucial piece of her soul terrified her.
But Darien respected her wishes, and stayed out, as did any of his employees on their frequent visits to her apartment. They'd all realized quickly that, if they wanted to see her, speak to her, they must either dare to interrupt Darien (who would always push away from his desk with a muttered expletive, and then rush over to her place and drag her back to the gallery), or come themselves. They usually chose to make the short trip themselves, seeing as Mr. Chiba was always very busy.
Even if everyone always enjoyed watching their boss stalk back into the building dragging her behind him, complaining all the way, like a wayward child.
A knock interrupted her thoughts, and as if called, Darien's voice carried clearly through to her. "Serena?"
"Just a moment," she called.
She wiped the sweat from her forehead and grabbed a cold drink before crossing to the door. She peeked out playfully. Yup, there he was, as gorgeously collected as always. Denying him the opportunity to peek in, she slipped out into the hall and locked the door behind her.
"Afraid someone will steal the furnaces? I assure you, they're a bit heavy to carry away." His voice, as smooth as velvet, sent ripples of desire down her spine.
Serena laughed and stuck her tongue out. "Well, if someone did manage it, you'd just buy me new ones."
Darien simply smiled and slipped him arm around her waist. "Ah, already trying to take advantage of my wealth. You artists are all gold diggers." When she stopped abruptly, he looked down at her. She stood, twisting her hands slightly, a small frown upon her face. "Something wrong, darling?"
"You don't really think that, right?" Her voice was soft. "That I'm after you for your money?" She bit her lower lip, looking so adorably worried that Darien was tempted, as he never had been before, to scoop her up into his arms and carry her off. Instead, he ordered his libido to take a hike and laid both hands gently on her shoulders.
"I was only joking, Serena."
"It doesn't matter to me. The money, I mean." She sighed and pushed a grubby hand through her tangled hair. "I mean . . . it's nice, and I love my apartment, and the studio, and not worrying if I can afford dinner each night, but . . ." She broke off and sighed again, not quite sure what she was trying to say.
Darien pulled her chin up until her eyes reluctantly met his. "Serena, listen to me. You have an amazing talent, and a beautiful heart. I'm attracted to you for yourself, and nothing else. And the idea that you'd be after my wealth has never even occurred to me. All right?"
The smile returned to her face, and she shrugged shyly. "Okay."
Satisfied that the issue was closed, he swung into her apartment. "I stopped by because Jadeite needs to run the final changes to the show by you. I've lost count of the number of times he tried calling. You think he'd learn."
Serena giggled. "I heard the phone, but I was kind of busy at the moment."
"Of course. Well, go wash your face, and do something with your hair, and then we'll go."
The ride was brief, as always. Darien left her with a peck on her cheek to return to his office as she continued upstairs to the second floor.
She loved these restricted rooms of the gallery, which were only used for private showings and special events, like her exhibit would be. If the first floor was an exquisite cathedral for the worship of art, then the second floor was a series of individual alters. Darien had ordered a number of connected rooms built, each much smaller, but no less lovely, then the main gallery. Throughout the rooms, pedestals of varying sizes were set, draped in white, black, or crimson silk, on which Serena's artwork were displayed. About half of the pedestals were currently occupied; she had yet to deliver the latest pieces, and still had several in the back of her mind to be created.
"Serena!" Jadeite hurried into the room. "Someone needs to implant a phone beneath your skin, so that you couldn't throw it away!"
Serena smiled apologetically. "Can't help it, Jad. I didn't have a free hand."
"Yes, yes, yes. I know, you've told me twice for every time you've forgotten to return a call! Well, come on." The tall blond led her into one of the back rooms. "We changed the pate canapés to caviar, since you didn't like that latest sampler the caterer brought by. Let me tell you, he wasn't too pleased about it, but I personally agree with you. I also changed the lighting in these three rooms." He flicked a switch as he pulled her through, and then took off before she could even comment. "And I haven't even been able to start planning the lighting for the last two rooms, because they are EMPTY!" Jadeite paused in his rushed tour and turned to face Serena. "Serena, chere, I need to at least know what the pieces are going to look like!"
Serena did her best not to giggle as the Frenchman clenched one fist in his hair, destroying the carefully arranged strands. "Um . . . I can tell you that they'll be made of glass . . ." He growled, and she gave up, breaking into laughter. "I don't really know myself, yet!" She took pity on the poor man and took his hand between her two smaller ones. "There's still a week before the exhibit. You will have everything by Wednesday, I promise. Okay?"
Charmed by her blue eyes despite himself, Jadeite raised her hands and kissed their backs. "I can't stay annoyed at you. Okay. Although," his eyes twinkled at her, "if the exhibit is a total ruin because half the pieces aren't there, it's not my fault!"
"Well, isn't this cozy. The little artist slut, not content with the billion-dollar boss, has to seduce the pathetic second in command as well."
Surprised both by the words and by the poisonous tone, the two jumped apart and faced the door. "Ann?"
"Jadeite, so nice to see you. Serena Kyle, isn't it? I wasn't sure I'd remembered the name. Run along to your master, why don't you, Jaddie? Serena and I need to have a little girl talk." Darien's ex smiled a vicious little smile and slithered into the room, ready to confront the little tart that, she believed, had stolen the very well to do Darien Chiba right out of her lap.
Jadeite glanced between the two women. It was hard to believe that Darien had been attracted to both. Ann's brash voluptuous looks almost overpowered the quiet, slender blond beauty of Serena. He wanted nothing more then to run for cover, but the bonds of friendship held him by Serena's side, until she nodded quietly at him.
"Go on. I'm sure you have work to do, Jad." Her luminous blue eyes held a hint of nerves, but she looked confident.
"Umm . . . sure. I'll let Darien know she's here." He turned and quickly left the room, worried about the fireworks that were sure to ensue. At least Ann had chosen a place away from the public displays. Flights of Fantasy, Inc. really didn't need that sort of publicity.
Back in the room, Ann draped herself over a chair. "I have to hand it to you, I really didn't think you'd be able to snag him so fast." She laughed inwardly at the discomfort visible on her opponent's face. "You're not exactly his type."
"And what is his type, Ann?"
This time, Ann didn't bother to hide her low laugh. "Why, I am, of course. Tell me, does he give you those long deep kisses of his? The ones that send shocks up and down your spine? They always made me so hot."
Serena tried to brush off her mental picture of Darien being so intimate with this woman. Oh, it was a hateful image, and a part of her realized that was exactly what Ann had intended. "Why are you doing this, Ann? Darien doesn't want you anymore. He sells your art, and makes you a lot of money. Isn't that all you want?"
Ann narrowed her eyes. "Not in the slightest. Are you really that dim? That man makes a hundred times what your piddling little art earns. I nab him, and I never have to work another day in my life. I honestly can't imagine why he'd want a little worm like you."
Serena opened her mouth to protest, but the redhead ran straight over her words. "Face it. He'll never stay interested in you. You're boring, and naïve, and completely uninteresting. A man like Darien Chiba eats up little girls like you and spits them out before heading on to the next." Ann sat back in her chair with a smile of satisfaction. "I've seen him do it more times then I can count. He thinks it's funny to twist you around his pinky finger.
Serena shook her head in denial. Nothing could get past the ball in her throat. She swallowed. "That's not true. Darien's not like that."
"Ha! You think so? What do you have to offer him? Artwork for his gallery, and a bit of amusement. I can't imagine that you'd be any good in the sack." Ann ran a hand over her own full curves. "He wants a real woman, like me. Face it; a little pin like you will just bore him!"
Serena pressed her lips together to hide their quiver. Unable suddenly to fight the tears in her eyes, she whirled around and ran from the room.
Ann crossed to the window and watched as, a few moments later, a small blond form ran out onto the sidewalk and away from the gallery. It was child's play, really.
***
Serena fell through the door and crumpled onto her couch, shaking with tears. Loki crawled over and into her lap, and she clutched the heavy cat to her chest. "She . . . she's right!" she sobbed. "How could he ever love someone like me?" The tears fell like rain from her cheeks, and she made no attempt to stop them. "No one could ever love me!"
A knock at the door had her pressing a fist to her mouth in a useless attempt to stem the loud snuffles. "Serena?"
It was Darien. "Serena, I know you're in there. What did she say to you?"
She didn't answer, couldn't get up. She couldn't face him; Ann's words resounded too loudly in her mind.
"Fine." There was the sound of keys jangling, and the door swung open. She sprang up, but it was too late. Darien stood in the open doorway. He took one glance at her wet cheeks and swore before throwing the door closed and crossing to her. "Come here, darling."
Serena resisted as he enfolded her in his arms. She pushed against his chest, sobbing in despair and hurt, but his strong arms ignored her. He picked her up and cradled her against him as he sat down on the couch.
"Oh, Serena." He murmured small nothings into her ear as she gradually calmed down and gained control of herself.
Finally, the tears stopped, and she pushed weakly against him again. This time, he let her go, and she moved to sit beside him. "Sorry," she hiccupped.
"For what? Serena, tell me what Ann said to you."
"I don't deserve you." The words burst out before she could stop them.
"What?!" The surprise and shock on his face went a long way to bandaging the small ache in Serena's chest."
"She told me that I don't deserve you, and that I could never keep your interest. She's right." Serena wouldn't for the world repeat Ann's exact words.
"That's bullshit." Darien reached over and pulled her back against him. Loki wandered over, and they both stretched out a hand to rub his fur. The cat plopped across their joint laps, purring in great satisfaction. "Serena, look at me. Have you heard nothing that I say to you when we're together? I think you're wonderful. I don't care if I have more money or power; you have so many qualities that are worth so much more. You're kind, and caring, and exquisite in every way. Won't you believe me? Please?"
She looked up into his eyes, and saw in them a deep-seated belief in everything he had just said. "Really?"
"Absolutely."
Serena rubbed a hand over her red eyes. "Then I believe you."
"Then come here." He pulled her face up to his, and settled his lips over hers.
From their laps, Loki watched as the couple made up. His mistress had been right several weeks ago. Life was, indeed, very good.
***