Precious Virtue ✓

Chapter 47: Queen Of Hearts

Precious Virtue

Chapter XLVII: Queen Of Hearts

[Adrien's POV]

I mixed colours together on my palette, and with a fine-tipped brush, I dipped it into the freshly mixed paint. I brought the brush back up to my canvas, gently gliding the brush with careful precision.

I hummed serenely under my breath to the music in my headphones as I painted, pausing periodically when my hand started cramping and twitching. With a sharp intake of breath, I put my brush down and flexed my fingers, stretching out my wrist and tendons. I tugged down the sleeve on my left hand, and with my right, rubbed around my wrist, and the thick white scar that housed there.

I had been working on one of my final projects in the art studio for a few hours now, and after nearly thirty hours total of dedication, sweat, and tears, it was almost complete. I had a few more details to add, and then all that was left to do was to let it dry overnight, and seal it with a gloss varnish.

With a heavy sigh, I picked up my brush and went back to painting. After another hour of dotting paint to the canvas, hand cramps, and mixing new colours, the painting was finally, finally complete. I sat back on my stool and looked at my finished artwork with a satisfied but tired smile, and placed my art supplies down on the table.

The sky outside the large glass window was beginning to darken, pinks and oranges bleeding into vibrant blues. It was gorgeous, a picture worth painting, but I was too exhausted to even think about painting any longer, let alone starting a new project.

I barely slept this past week due to the amount of projects I had to finish. My eyelids were heavy and weighed down—I had to keep rubbing my eyes to stay awake, just so that I didn't fall face-first into my final project and ruin the whole thing. If it got ruined, I was sure that I would break down ugly crying.

I rested my elbow against the table perched next to me and my easel, laying my head against my hand. For just a moment, I let my eyes close, tuning into the whimsical melodies elicited from my headphones.

"You're so fucking pretty, baby." Preston breathed hotly against my ear. A soft gasp escaped me—I dug my nails into his skin, gripping desperately at the arm between my legs.

I was hot and sweaty all over, flushed red from my cheeks down to my neck and chest. My mind was hazy, my vision blurred and foggy, my chest rising and falling with trembling breaths.

Preston smiled down at me, eyes dark and lips ghosting against mine. He was so close against me, charmingly wicked, forehead against mine, watching me crumble and slowly break apart by his hands, only to be held together by a single thread toyed by him to prevent me from falling apart completely.

My headphones were suddenly yanked off of me. My eyes shot open when I heard my name being called, flickering upwards to see Karsten standing in front of me, hair pulled up in a messy bun and a paint-covered apron hugging his body.

"You got paint all over your face." He commented. I blinked. I pulled my hand away from my face, and there was pink and purple paint smeared all over my palm and fingers. My cheeks burned hot in embarrassment.

I cursed to myself and stood up from the stool I was sitting on, hurrying over to the wash station. I turned on the sink and squeezed soap all over my hands, scrubbing hard to get the paint off.

Karsten walked over to me, grabbing me by the chin with two fingers, forcing me to turn my head. He grabbed a cloth and dipped it under the running faucet, getting it wet, and began rubbing the paint off my face.