Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86364 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
I had collected some pieces of art on the recommendation from investment managers who’d seen them as a way to diversify my portfolios, but that was all they were—investments. One day, I would sell them for a profit. I’d felt nothing when I bought them, and I’d feel nothing when I sold them.
But Parker’s art was different. It was bold, elegant, and magical.
“I want to hire you.” The words were out of my mouth before my brain could catch up to what I was even thinking.
Parker chuckled and continued to swipe through his photo gallery. “You’re crazy. You know I won’t stop giving you shit at the office, even if I am living here.”
“No. Not at Courtland. I mean, I want to commission you as an artist. I want you to cover the walls of my house with murals.”
Parker sat up and twisted so he could look me in the eye. “What? You want me to paint murals for you?”
“Yes.” This time my voice was a lot stronger. The idea had taken me by surprise, but with each passing second, it made more sense. It would take Parker weeks, if not months, to paint all my walls. During that time, he would live here, allowing him to set work hours that were best for him and Joy. By having him here, I would have the chance to figure out this new need to keep him close.
Taking care of Parker and Joy had given me a level of happiness that I’d never felt, and I didn’t understand it. But I also didn’t want it to stop. I didn’t want to stop feeling this happiness when I was with Parker. Yes, Joy sent me into spirals of panic and cold sweats while suffering flashes of chilly memories of my father’s distance and disdain for everything. I might never have planned to have kids of my own. However, I knew I didn’t want to turn into my miserable, disapproving father.
Parker and Joy had to stay here.
“All my walls are white. You have plenty of blank canvases.”
My companion dragged his wide-eyed gaze away from me to peer up at the white walls that surrounded us. He rubbed a hand across his parted lips, and I swore I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. They had to be such a temptation. Just one seemingly endless wall after another of plain, unbroken white. The possibilities were enormous.
“It…it would take me months to do your entire house. I…” Parker whispered, sounding as if he were talking more to himself than me. His face whipped around to me, his eyes narrowing. “We’re talking original works of art. I don’t take specific requests. People give me a vibe or maybe a color scheme, and they accept what I create for them. My expertise and talent don’t come cheap.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to. I’m offering ten million to paint my house.”
Parker sucked in a breath so loud and sharp, he choked on the air. I patted him on the back as he hacked and fought to clear this throat.
“This house has twenty-five rooms, not counting hallways and servants’ quarters. If you include hallways, that number can be rounded to an even thirty. That averages out to be roughly three hundred and thirty thousand dollars per room. In addition, the expectation would be that you would live here with Joy while you’re working on the rooms, so that you can set your own schedule around Joy’s needs. Naturally, if you’re living here, your living expenses would be covered by me as part of your payment, but outside the ten million for the artwork. After the contract is signed, you would receive two million as a down payment and additional payments would be made as each room is finished.”
Parker stared wordlessly at me as if he didn’t quite know how to react to my offer. I couldn’t blame him. It was very sudden. Prior to this moment, I’d had no plans to paint any of my walls. I didn’t care if they were white. They were that way because I didn’t want to put too much thought into trying to match things like my furniture and other decorations. When I’d had the house built, I’d wanted it simple and neat.
But after seeing Parker’s art, I wanted more. I wanted all those emotions he evoked in the sweep of his brush in my home. They needed to be in every room. Everywhere I stared, his beauty needed to be there.
“I…I want each mural professionally photographed so I can officially include it in my portfolio,” he stammered, but his voice grew stronger as he continued. “And I demand that it be put in the contract that you can’t paint over any piece for a minimum of five years.”
I had no intention of ever destroying his work, but I understood Parker’s desire to have it included in the contract.