Etched

Chapter 30

Gabriel's POV:

"...Then you have a meeting with Chinese delegates, later a video conference. Then there's-" I lifted my gaze from my screen up to her when she paused, "...just a minute, Sir" mumbled Zoella as she focused on hearing someone from the ear piece, all the while passing me an over excited smile. I automatically immediately looked away. 

Why was she here? I wanted her to go away. I knew everything, the whole schedule. I'd affirmed the mail earlier yet she was here, still repeating it. I would've asked her straight to get out but I'm holding myself from telling her off because I could almost envision a pair of brown eyes, narrowed in irritation at me, with an adorable frown set on her forehead.

Zoella exchanged a few words with whoever was on line, "Excuse me, Sir. There's a delivery for you from the art gallery. Do you want me to let them in?" she asked. My fingers halted halfway from typing on the keyboard.

From the art gallery? they must be here to bring in her picture. But didn't I tell Steven to let them deliver it at our house. I would've to ask him about this then...my way.

I gave her a swift nod and resumed working. "I'll take your leave" I didn't respond as I saw her walk out of the door.

I gazed at my phone and rung her cell only for it to go on voicemail again. I tossed the devise on the table and sighed, is she really that angry at me that she wouldn't even attend my call? I didn't call last night to blow both mine and hers steam off but now I've been calling her continuously and she isn't even bothering to reply.

Resting my head against the headrest I stared at the view that the glass panel overlooked. Why does it matter so much when she ignores me? Why am I being affected like this? This has never happened to me before. I've never wanted to be appreciated by someone before, I've always had my work and accomplishments speak on my behalf but now why am I feeling so different?

Why does it feel like everything is happening with me differently and in a pace where I don't know if I'm keeping up. There couldn't be feelings involved because I don't believe in that shit crap people cry over.

I am changing and I've observed how I'm looking at things in such an alternate light that it surprises me. But as stupid as this is, the change in me feels so positive. Like I'd craved for it but didn't realize the importance until she grabbed my hand carrying us towards it.

I don't feel indifferent when she sees my defenseless stance. With her, I don't feel pressurized to pretend and brick my fences ever and everything comes easy. This isn't me, though! I'm never like this. What is happening to me?...

A few moments later, a knock resonated on the door, alerting me of an arrival. I permitted the entrance. Two staff workers from the building were carrying a huge portrait that was wrapped in manila paper.

I ushered them to place it on the table, they followed suit. As they were leaving I caught eye of the young boy, whose name was I reckon Eric. He shook his head and looked down seemingly fazed by me as always, involuntarily a sigh of relief skipped my lips.

Almost on impulse, my feet carried me towards the frame. My fingers ran, skimming the sides as I untaped the sheet from the edges. As the covering fell apart, my heart leaped in my chest as it has been accustomed at doing so, at her sight.

It was the same picture we'd put together when I took her to the date, it was a painting that had been split up as puzzle pieces. Later however, I asked them to fix those permanently together so that it only looks like a painting, amazing at that.

This picture of hers was breathtaking, stunning enough to dethrone everyone just to have a glimpse of it and I was irrevocably the first. The glimmer in her eyes was enough to send my heart to an overdrive and that's exactly what it did. Strangely enough I ordered myself on my own a responsibility to not let the shine and glow in it dissipate. Never.