The CEO's Chance

I was extremely excited to come to the craft fair, once I saw the pink posted flyer at school. I usually never pay attention to the board filled with a massive number of colorful flyers in the compound at the local community college I attend, but it seemed like it would be fun to attend. Which it has been so far until I made the mistake of wanting to get my portrait painted. I knew it would belong, but I didn’t realize how long it would take. This woman could easily take my picture and paint me using that, but no. It was better to paint a portrait of me when I’m here in person, instead of painting me, using a picture on her phone.

I don’t know how people in historical times, we're able to sit still for so long, just to get a portrait of themselves painted. The amount of patience they must have had was probably from all the practice they had from their other pictures being painted. My butt is starting to hurt from having to sit still on this chair. If I was laying down on a comfy couch then I wouldn’t be mentally complaining. I’m starting to wonder if the portrait I’m paying for, would have been done quicker if it was painted by someone younger. This old lady is taking forever to finish.

I’m glad I was able to buy a couple of things from other booths before I came to this lady. Like two rings, and an adorable rose gold necklace that had the shape of little doves in the center.

Feeling my shoulders hurt, I rolled my shoulders as discreetly as I could, so that I wouldn’t be caught moving.

“Keep still,” growled the woman. Her paintbrush in one hand and palette in the other. “If you want the picture-perfect, you need to keep still.” Her accent was strong, and I’m guessing she was from Russia.

I immediately froze in place. It was a real struggle to keep still. I feel like a child in class, being scolded by her teacher for moving.

“Sorry,” I mumbled sheepishly.

Oh great, now my nose is starting to itch. I’ve never wanted to scratch my nose so badly until now. Does it take an hour just to paint someone? I don’t know what time it is, but I’m pretty sure the fair is almost over by now. She must be doing a good job if the expressions made by people passing by the canvas seem positive. That is the only assurance I have of her skill. That and a few of the other pictures I saw by her.

“Are you almost done?” I asked, out of curiosity. A hint of impatience sneaking through my tone.

She glared at me with annoyance mixed in her expression. Mumbled something under her breath that I couldn’t hear, and went back to painting. A simple yes or no would have sufficed.

Out of nowhere, I heard a deep and husky chuckle beside me. The hairs on my neck rising and goosebumps form on my skin. A feeling stirring in my body because of this mystery man and it was all good.

“She’s almost done,” the husky voice whispered in my right ear. His tone sounded a bit sensual.

My body shivered. Not from the wind, because that was non-existent; but from the man behind me.

“Do you always creep up on women getting their portrait painted?” I spoke through my teeth. Not wanting to be caught by the painter, and hoping the man will step forward in my line of vision so that I will know what he looks like.

I didn’t have to look his way, to know that he was undoubtedly smirking.

I heard him move to the left side of me. My body sensed him bend down so close, I could practically feel him. I looked towards him from the corner of my eye.

“Yes, but only to the beautiful ones,” said the mystery man in an alluring tone.

What a charmer.

My cheeks started to turn rosy, and instead of looking his way, I looked down. My hair falling forward, using it as a curtain to cover my face.

“I said don’t move,” scolded the woman.

My headshot straight up and my hair out of my face. The glare I was about to throw the woman, was quickly bubbling to the surface. Moving my head back to position, I quietly sighed in frustration. Snapping at her and turning towards the unexpected guest beside me were quickly becoming two options I wanted to take right now. The third would be simply moving. My body was starting to ache from staying still.

“You’re distracting me,” I spoke under my breath.

“I am?” he asked teasingly. His action at innocence completely failing. Even though he couldn’t see me, I rolled my eyes.

Thankfully, the painter didn’t see that.

“Don’t you have other things to do?” I whispered underneath my breath.

Silence met me for the first time. He didn’t respond, which had me thinking that he might have left. A small feeling of disappointment filled me. Is it weird if I say that I wanted him to?

“Like what? We’re at a craft fair.” He pointed out the obvious.

“Exactly,” I emphasized. “They're so much cool things to see. Many of them are a beautiful work of art.”

“You’re a beautiful work of art,” he replied smoothly.

I tried to sound unaffected, “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you? If you’re not going to look around why are you here?”

“I saw you and wanted to talk to you,” he stated as if it was obvious. 

“Not here, I mean. Here at the craft fair.” I asked, knowing there was a chance he wouldn’t answer my question because we don’t know each other that well.

Surprisingly he answered my question, “I walked by as I was talking to the dean and stopped when I saw you.”

I ignored the part when he said he saw me. He must be smooth with a lot of the ladies. Men like that are Casanovas.

Curiosity getting the best of me, “What were you and the dean talking about?”

Surprising me, he supplied an answer, “The Old Maria.”

My eyes widened.

Partly because he answered my question. The other part is because “The Old Maria” is the oldest building on campus at Rosewood University and is rumored to be haunted. Everyone that goes in there comes back with some type of injury and tells stories of seeing two ghosts. The story is, that “The Old Maria” used to be the art building back when the school was first built. Two young lovers would meet there because the girl’s father was the dean at the time and didn’t approve of her boyfriend.

One night the father threw a party at his house to have his daughter meet one of the most eligible bachelors that the father approved of, locking her in her room until he allowed her out. While she was there, he sent some of his men to burn the art building, knowing that the boyfriend would be waiting for her in the building. The father’s men burned the building down, not knowing that the girl escaped and was in the building with her young lover. Together the two young lovers died trapped in the burning building.

In heartbreak and agony, the father built a fence around the building and closed it off to the campus forever. Now it just sits there, never to be touched by anyone. 

Until now. 

My curiosity peeking to an all-time high, “That’s surprising. What are you both going to do with the building?”

Being sly he said in a daring tone, “I’ll tell you if you agree to go out to dinner with me.”

Not wanting him to think I am falling for his smooth charms and will give in; I turn my body to deny his offer.

“Stay still!” growled the woman painting my portrait.

I had almost forgotten she was there.

“Relax,” chided the mystery man.

The woman blushed at being scolded by this man and cleared her throat. Going back to painting and painting me the best she could with my constant moving.

Feeling better now that I had a higher chance at the movie, I turned and felt like the breath was knocked out of me. My jaw slightly dropping, I couldn’t look away from him no matter how hard I tried. God sculpted this man very well. His wavy dirty blonde hair shining from the sun that shined on him, and making his light blue eyes framed by long dark lashes alluring, it could enchant a woman to his bed.

I’m a hundred percent sure that’s happened.

He leaned closer to me, and that snapped me out of my daze. As if knowing that he had me in his grasp.

I cleared my throat, and shook my head, “No.”

He raised an eyebrow, seeming shocked by my disagreement. He stared at me as if he could change my mind.

I stared back, trying to not give in because of how handsome he was.

Seeing me not give in, he nodded his head and stood up.

“I’ll be seeing you again soon…” he said, then trailed off, like he was asking for my name.

I smirked, “Cassie.”

“May I ask for your last time?” he said with a tilt of his head, finding it amusing that I tell him only my name.

I shook my head, and narrowed my eyes in suspicion, “For all I know, you could be a creeper.”

His head shot back and he roared with laughter. Squeezing his stomach like he couldn’t breathe. He threw me a wide smile and looked at me as if what I said was the funniest thing he ever heard. He nodded his head as if something was final.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said in awe.

I rolled my eyes, and scoffed “Sure.” Then turned around and gave the old woman my full attention.

He chuckled and leaned down low enough to whisper in my ear. “See you soon Cassie.” Then left with small chuckles still coming out of him.

It wasn’t until he was gone when I suddenly realized I didn’t ask for his name.

“Do you have any idea who he is?” asked the woman as she put down the paintbrush in her hand.

I shook my head.

She scoffed, “Well then you are one lucky woman to catch his attention.”

Maybe, maybe not.