Though Emma couldn't stop thinking about Lucas Stone, the next week passed in a haze of deadlines and meetings. His presence stayed in her head like an itch she was unable to get at. That frightened her as she had never had such an immediate connection with anybody.
Emma found herself reading the email from his assistant three times, as if the words had some secret significance, when it came with commission information. She was to see Lucas at his workplace to go over the piece's concept. Her heart races as she fixated on the television. She couldn't help but question if this addressed more than just artistic expression.
The day the meeting was scheduled arrived quicker than she expected. Emma felt uncomfortable in her casual clothes amid the sea of elegant business suits as she arrived to the soaring glass skyscraper housing Stone Enterprises. Though she told herself that this was just another job, she had never felt more like an outsider. Lucas Stone was just yet another customer.
She realized this was no regular customer however, as the elevator doors opened and she entered his office.
The room was amazing; floor to ceiling windows provided a spectacular perspective of the city. Modern art works, each carefully chosen to capture the might and dignity of the guy working here, covered the wall. And at the core of it all was Lucas, sat behind his desk, staring at hers the instant she arrived.
He remarked, rising to welcome Emma. "I appreciate you showing up."
His words flowed naturally, with confidence, and it warmed her in waves. She had to force a grin and tell herself to breathe as she went toward him.
She added, attempting to keep the discussion business-like: "Let's discuss your vision for the piece."
Lucas nodded, but he had a gleam in his eyes that suggested he was thinking more than simply painting. Emma felt herself pulled into his comments as he started to explain what he wanted—that the work reflected something more than simply décor for his workplace. A personal matter.
"I want it to show the storm before the calm," he remarked, his voice low and close. "The fight before to discovering peace."
Emma let out a choked breath. He was not now referring to art.
Emma inhaled momentarily to let in Lucas's remarks. "The storm before the calm," he had said. She realized that today it was not about the painting at all. Those remarks carried something deeper, something buried behind the guy in front of her's polished exterior.
"Why that?," ask She inquired gently, her fingers twitching as if she were already wielding a brush. " Why concentrate on the storm?"
Lucas sat back in his chair, as if considering his response, darkening gaze. "Because, usually the toughest aspect is the storm. People flee from it, avoiding the anarchy, throughout their life. But I've discovered something: sometimes it's required. Without it, you never fully understand what tranquility feels like.
Emma's pulse sped at his words. She could sense him talking about something considerably more intimate than business. He was more than simply a rich CEO with sophisticated social skills. She had not expected the depth he had; it was appealing to something within her. She had locked something long ago.
"What about you?," said Lucas abruptly pulled her from her thoughts. His piercing eyes seemed to allow him to discern her every feeling. "Your storm is what?
Emma blinked, startled by the directness of his inquiry. She was not accustomed to people inquiring about her personal life, and most definitely not strangers she had lately. She was not ready to disclose her past—the heartache, the treachery. But Lucas's gaze, consistent and unwavering, gave her hope that even a little let down of her guard would be acceptable.
She answered vaguely, a grin pulling at the edges of her lips attempting to avoid the inquiry, "everyone has one." But it is not about me. This commission speaks to you personally.
Lucas slanted his head, never looking away from hers. Perhaps that relates to both of us.
She shivered down her spine at the words. Was he implying that between them there was something? Emma could feel the pull, a magnetic force tugging her closer to him; the air between them felt electrified. She could not permit that to happen. To fall for a guy like Lucas Stone, she had gone through too much. Strong, domineering, and much too seductive for her own good—everything she had promised to avoid.
She started to cough, then pushed her mind back to the current work. "Tell me more about the images you see. The message of the picture should be what?
Lucas grinned, but his eyes did not follow that smile. "I want it to convey challenge and success. Of the path to self-awareness, even in the midst of all around breakdown.
Emma's heart skipped a beat. He seemed to have dug out the exact words she had been living by from her soul. Years of escaping from her own storm, she buried herself in her work to escape the agony of her past. But listening Lucas explain it so clearly made her realize maybe she wasn't as unlike him as she had believed.
"I can do that," she murmured softly, once again catching his eye.
Lucas nodded, his stance softening. "Good," I will let you handle the remainder.
Not once did any of them speak. Though it was not awkward, the stillness between them carried unspoken words. if they had hardly touched on who they really were, Emma felt as if they had developed an unsaid awareness. Like she had, Lucas had his secrets. And while her senses urged her to remain her distance, something about him made her want to plunge in regardless of the danger.
Emma remarked, "I should go," breaking the tension with a little grin. "I have a lot of thinking ahead."
Walking her to the door, Lucas stood, towering over her. Emma felt a flutter of something deep in her chest as his hand softly touched hers; his presence was overpowering.
"Thank you, Emma," he whispered, his voice low and close. "I eagerly await what you produce."
Emma nodded, pulse pounding as she left the office and entered the elevator. She exhaled the breath she had not known she was holding as the doors closed. Lucas Stone was dangerous—not in the manner most men were, but in a way that caused her to doubt everything she knew about herself.