Evelyn: His Desire

5. Evelyn

The next morning...

"Good morning, Princess. How was your exhibition?" Dad greeted me warmly while side hugging me.

"Good morning Dad. It was good, too good. Everyone praised my paintings. Even each one of them is sold out." I cheerfully say hugging her parents.

"Alright, now come and have your breakfast. See, how thin you have become! You don't eat much." Mom chimes in while being busy in arranging the plates on the dining table.

We all sit down at the dining table, and Mom starts serving my favorite dishes. Dad takes his usual place at the head of the table, with me beside him and Mom across from me after setting down the last of the food.

"Today, I made all your favorites. Even made your beloved chocolate cake for you." Mom pats my head with a smile on her face.

"Reallyyyy?!! Mom, you are my first love!" I cheer up thinking about the chocolate cake and take the plate from Mom and start devouring the delectable dish.

"Oh? And what about me?" Dad says while feigning an angry face.

"Ufff Dad, I love you both." I hug both of them with my mouth stuffed full of cake.

"Okay, enough with your chocolate cake. Eat your food now." Mom snatches back the plate from me.

"Mom please, let me have it. You make the best chocolate cake in the world." I make puppy eyes and pouty lips trying to coax her like I used to do in my childhood.

"Stop buttering me and have your food." Mom says laughing at my behavior.

"Okay, now I'm leaving. I need to finish my next target as soon as possible." I finish my breakfast and take the cake with me to my art room beside my bedroom.

I enter my studio. It's a small room with one of the walls having a big canvas. The other one beside it has a shelf covering it with several racks filled with different paints, brushes and other supplies. My art supplies are scattered everywhere around the room. There is also a canvas stand in the middle with a stool beside it. The stool has a color palette over it ready for me to bring my imagination on the paper.

I close my eyes and inhale the scent of paint as if it's the air I need to survive. I squeeze out the paints on the palette, mixing them with the brush and forming new colors. 

I let my mind sway my hand on the canvas in front of me with the bold strokes that reflect the chaos of feelings and emotions in my mind. A few red and black strokes and I see the image getting clear in my mind. It's him. It's us. Together.

Giving a few more touches of brown, white and black, I complete it with last strokes and look at my art. I get mesmerized by the beauty of the man who's stuck on my mind since the moment I laid my eyes on him. The painting I created is just like him. Every detail that I captured in the depths of my heart is poured on the canvas.

His hazel orbs in which I got lost are the definition of the depth that hides a lot of demons behind them. 

The painting depicts him holding me close to him looking straight in my eyes. It makes me remember when we collided with each other and he stopped me from falling by keeping his hand on my waist. 

My palms subconsciously landed on his hard chest and our lips were inches apart from touching. For the world, he is ruthless but in that moment I felt his arms to be the safest place I can ever be.

I still get butterflies in my stomach thinking about that moment. 

I smile unknowingly upon seeing my creation and close my eyes deciding to keep it safe forever in my heart cherishing the moment I met him. 

Deciding to keep this creation forever, I cover the painting carefully with a cloth to protect it from any external disturbance. 

I was so indulged in my work that I didn't notice that my clothes and hands are covered in paint and I smell like it too. Maybe some is on my face too. 

I come out of the studio and go straight to my room to take a bath. 

As the warm water cascades over me, I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift back to Adrian. The way his eyes held mine, the unspoken connection that seemed to spark between us—it was a feeling I couldn't shake. I scrub the paint from my skin, the vibrant colors swirling down the drain, but the memories remain vivid and alive.

Once I'm clean and refreshed, I wrap myself in a towel and head back to my room. 

But reality soon pulls me back. I get dressed in casual clothes, something comfortable for a day of planning and preparation. As I head downstairs, I hear my phone buzz.

"Urgent. Need to meet. Usual place," the message reads.

I quickly grab my bag and head out, telling my parents I'll be back later. They nod, used to my frequent comings and goings under the guise of art-related errands. Little do they know the true extent of my activities. 

I drive to the small, discreet café where Ava, my trusted confidant and partner in our fight against human trafficking, and I usually meet. It's the perfect place to discuss sensitive matters without attracting attention of people. When I arrive, Ava is already there on our reserved table with a serious expression on her face that is enough to tell me about the seriousness of the situation.

"Evelyn, we have a lead," she says as I sit down.

My heart skips a beat. "Tell me everything," I urge her.