로그인“You are actually insane”, Aria whispered incredulously. “Didn't I say I didn't want to pay for my painting?”“I’m the one paying for your painting,” he whispered back, his breath hot on her ears and sending electricity through her spine. “You know the painting would be in our hands no matter what, right?”, she asked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to be too affected by her husband’s overwhelming aura.He’d silenced a full room of powerful people and basically stolen away all their rights to bid, all without losing his suaveness for a single second. He was what she imagined her grandfather would be like in his early days.Aston gave her a little quirk of his lips. “That’s still our son, and I wouldn't let anyone get even minute bragging rights to the painting of my son when I'm sitting right here, lady Beaumont,” he absently played with her hair. “What kind of father would that make me?” Aria rolled her eyes.“You keep saying 'our.' I’m half convinced you were there when I gave
Lot one. Lot two. Lot three. Lot four, five, all down to Lot ten.They were all treated like counterfeit trash by Aston. He held no regard for the organizers, the spectators and the very painters themselves, reducing every painting in the building to a fakeAria hadn’t known that her little “itch” as he called it would have such consequences. The whole room was silent and somber. She didn't know what the masters who painted these paintings would feel if they knew that their paintings were being reduced to spare change, loose change that her son would use to buy a stray piece of candy he saw on a streetstall in France. The auctioneer looked like he was a ghost, the previous proud, arrogant sheen in his complexion utterly removed.“L-Lot twelve here, we have the Murrelet”, the auctioneer spoke, but he subtly paused, fully expecting Aston to butt in and offer a stupid rebuttal like two euros like he’d done so far. But Aston let him finish.The man sighed, a burst of air that echoed ar
“It rubs me the wrong way that Vane is even getting this money,” Aria whispered.“He wouldn’t be able to sell it either way. We’re…” he paused, looking contemplative,”…seizing the paintings, for lack of a better word.”Aria still wasn’t pleased. Aston had no use for the paintings. He’d agreed to her returning them to their owners, under leverage of course. But it wasn’t enough somehow.“I wish there was a way we could tank his reputation alongside it, make it seem like he’s a swindler trying to sell fakes or something,” she said, dropping her head onto his shoulder, a habit she’d picked up from every movie and event she attended with Linda.Aria was always in need of a place to rest her head.Aston’s shoulders slightly tensed and Aria shot back up. Or at least she tried to. His other hand pressed her head back down onto his shoulder, rubbing her hair.“That’s an easy itch to scratch, my lady,” he said, his voice lighter than she’d heard it in a while.Aria furrowed her brows in confus
“Oooh,” Aria’s eyes caught on another canvas as they got to the threshold of the private gallery. “Master Wyatt always talked about that one, Dragon Falls.”“Mm… Master Wyatt? The calligrapher?”, Aston paused to let her look to her heart’s content. “Yep. He’s always wanted Dragon Falls but it disappeared one day. Apparently Vane had gone to work. I wonder how he stole all those paintings.”“You can steal them all too,” Aston said, his tone entirely too indulgent.Aria wrenched her eyes away from it to give him a little mocking look, only to see how heavy his gaze on her was.Her stomach did flips and she swallowed, looking ahead and subtly pulling him along so they’d reach their destination.She couldn’t figure him out. He was such a good actor. His dedication to ensuring they looked like the perfect couple outside was unmatched.The private gallery was the first lower floor. Paintings lined every inch of every wall. Vane was definitely about to retire permanently with all these pain
Aria walked down to the velvet seat she had just been lured out of, smoothing the drape of her gown in preparation to sit back down just as the rustle of black silk settled directly in front of them.Aston did not shift an inch. He took his place beside Aria, his shoulder a steady, unyielding warmth against hers, his attention fixed squarely back on the brushwork of the Murrelet.“Aston,” a voice murmured. It was soft and breathless, carrying the delicate, trembling cadence of a woman catching her breath after a long search. Before Aria could react, a slender hand, gloved in sheer lace, drifted toward her.“Gretchen.”His voice was barely above a whisper, entirely flat, yet the woman’s hand froze instantly in mid-air. She withdrew it to her chest with a faint, fragile flutter of her fingers, her lashes dipping as if wounded by the mere weight of his tone.Aria deliberately pressed her mouth down to prevent her full disgust. She was so reminiscent of a younger Hartie that Aria felt the
Chapter 56For as long as she could remember, Aria had never really wanted the life she was given. She had wanted to life of a soft air headed princess.She remembered sneaking around to paint in the Rothschild’s garden, using the abundance of red roses as her inspiration.When she’d been caught, they didn’t insult her, no that wouldn’t have made any sense. They just made it sound like it was something only a fool like Aria would do, so she stopped.But painting was always a small flame of hers.While she stayed in Europe, she was free, she had all the time in the world to herself and her baby and she in turn picked up designing and painting again.That baby bird was hers.She painted it at her lowest.Linda had left for Egypt, Aria’s friendly lovely neighbors had left too, everybody had gone on vacation.Aria couldn’t.Aria was trapped.Aria couldn’t leave.To cap it all, her baby had been sick.If Aria wanted to admit the truth to herself, she only started truly loving Asher on one
The floor thudded dully with every step Aria took towards the villa library, echoing with a grave silence that threatened to make her crash out. She had always been an arsonist, right from when she was ten and discovered that curtains burned pretty. Arthur had corrected it to no avail, and when
Aria was panicking. Sure she listened raptly to all Asher had to say about his spy mission, sure she hugged him tight and warned him to always call her before he “followed daddy”, sure she had coaxed him to sleep. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t panic. Especially since Aston hadn’t gotten out y
He shook his head. Her tenacity these days had gotten into his head. Aria couldn’t have set a whole building on the path to explode, not under five minutes, not when it had taken her a full five minutes to open his study door. He had many more enemies that could get that done in less than 30 seco
Aria startled at the sudden white flash and immediately swiveled her head to look in the direction it came from. That was a bad idea. There were four men with cameras and flashing lights, running over from the other side of the street. Hartie must have called them in, possibly to have them as







