oOo
"Have you read this one?" she asked.
Bella had her feet in Edward's lap and, while he was massaging them after her long workday, she was browsing through the Monday papers.
The whole of London, it seemed, was celebrating Edward Cullen's new works – especially "The Meadow." His phone had been ringing all day with congratulations and requests. Michael was dealing with the brunt of them, but enough people had Edward's private number and seemed to remember that they were, in one way or another, acquainted with the Edward Cullen.
"Yeah, I did," he replied, applying more pressure to the sole of her left foot.
Bella sighed luxuriously. She'd been at a conference with Jasper at the Barbican Centre since seven a.m. It now was eight p.m.
Edward was happy that his new paintings were a success, but what made him happier was to have Bella near him. They'd had a long and lazy Sunday in bed after the vernissage, and he'd hated to let her go this morning. Her presence was a balm and a safety blanket. He'd not had a drop since Carlisle's toast on Saturday, and he hadn't missed it.
"They say that you have re-established your unique style and gave the term romantic realism a new meaning," she quoted, looking up from the paper. Her eyes were positively sparkling.
Edward's fingers glided higher, touching the arch of her foot, stroking over her shin.
"And the Times writes 'Edward Cullen has given us several new masterpieces, but especially his portrayal of a young woman in a meadow is a painting of beauty and joy, expressing the naiveté and purity of youth…'"
Bella snorted, which became a dirty giggle.
Edward couldn't help but grin, his hand walking higher on her leg.
"Such a tiny girl," he rumbled, "making such undignified noises…"
He tickled the underside of her knee, which made Bella giggle and snort even more.
"I thought you were going to say, 'Such a dirty girl, what makes them think she's meant to represent naiveté and purity…'"
She watched him from under long, black lashes, her toes moving closer to his crotch, making him tingle.
"I was going to say something to that effect," Edward muttered, getting totally distracted by her actions.
His fingers tickled their way into Bella's shorts, which were actually the boxers with a Snoopy design that Vera had given him for his birthday.
They continued teasing each other, looking at each other while they did.
Edward was still trying to get used to the fact that he had shared his vision of Bella with the public. She was assuring him in every way that it had been right to do it – and that she was his, and only his Bella.
He'd never known himself to be such a possessive man.
As if she could read his thoughts, Bella smiled at him.
"I love you," she said softly.
"I love you too. I – oh, damn it."
His phone was ringing again.
It was Michael.
"I'm sorry." Bending lower, he placed a kiss on her knee. "But he won't stop if I don't answer him now."
"I know!" Bella rolled her eyes good-naturedly, reminding him of the fact that she'd had to let Stan in to fetch the painting. The wrong painting, as he knew now.
"Edward," his agent greeted him, in a voice so high it was almost reminiscent of Truman Capote.
"Mike." It was Edward's turn to roll his eyes.
Bella crawled nearer, and he wrapped his arm around her as she snuggled into his side.
"Are you sitting down? Because, if you're not sitting down, you should be. Guess what?"
"What?"
"Would you like to receive two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand pounds? That is, roughly speaking. I'm talking after taxes here."
Edward let out a breath.
"Tell me."
"You remember that couple from Toronto, the Goldmans?"
"Of course I do."
The pudding-faced lady who had tried to feel him up, and her hairless husband.
"They want to buy 'The Meadow.'"
There was a small, expectant silence. Edward could practically see Mike's victorious grin.
"Absolutely not. It's not for sale."
And that was that.
oOo
Thank you so, so SO much for your lovely reviews. I'm sorry I was a failure at replying; it's been a busy week.
Hugs and kisses to all of you!
Your
harperpitt