Angel Adams is my name, and having a carefree life is my goal. After graduating from college, I spent the rest of my life jumping from job to job. Making do with living in New York City, from paycheck to paycheck.
I don't mind. Money is fake and w...
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I felt out of place. The people in the gallery were all rich and sophisticated. Some approached to talk to me, but after a while, they left me alone.
Aleksandr is currently listening to his friends talk about the fundraising events and how they are grateful for his art distributions. I was bored out of my mind, I wanted to explore the gallery but I did not want to leave Aleksandr's side.
I tug on his arm a little and he looks down at me. I cock my head to the side and he excuses himself and follows me.
"The paintings here are beautiful but where are yours?" I ask while walking around the gallery, smiling back at some of the people.
He points at the curtain in front of the room.
"All of them are getting auctioned?"
He nods.
"How many?"
He holds up six fingers.
"That is a lot, why are you giving them away?"
He shrugs.
An announcement about the auction was made, interrupting us. I take Aleksandr's hand as we make our way to our seats.
A beautiful lady walked onto the stage, introducing herself as Miranda. She wore a red dress that complimented her pale skin and a black bob that framed her face.
"Is Miranda your friend?" I whisper to Aleksandr, loving her dress.
He nods.
"She's pretty," I comment. "I like her dress."
He gives me a questioning look, giving me a big smile.
"Do not buy me that dress," I scowl at him. "It looks cute on her, not on me."
He rolls his eyes and focuses back on the stage. The arts shown were equally boring and interesting, nothing truly caught my eyes. But the rich people were eating it up.
"Now for the final event of the night," Miranda says while walking over a covered exhibit. " These were donated by my best friend, the Russian prince, Aleksandr Sokolov."
The crowd stands to give a standing ovation, looking at Aleksandr and me. I was in awe at the pictures, they were all beautiful and sensual.
Each one of the paintings had a nude girl in them, in the brighter paintings she was accompanied by a man who seemed to be pleasuring her. In the bland colored paintings, she was alone but her body was being admired from a lover's point of view. She had no face.
"Those are beautiful," I mutter turning to Aleksandr. His face was back to its black state, deep in thought he paid no attention to me.
His paintings were sold out rather quickly, earning a huge sum for the fundraiser. After the selling of paintings, Miranda gave a big speech thanking everyone for coming.
