Wilde's Flower (ON HOLD)

Chapter Five

'Good afternoon,' I greet the receptionist the minute I arrive at the hotel that afternoon, looking at his name tag for his name. 'Edward.'

'Good afternoon Miss Patterson.' I didn't expect him to remember who I was that quickly but I got the same recognition from the valet the moment I stepped out of my car. 'Mr. Wilde is expecting you.' It got me a little confused as to how he was able to catch on to the reason I was here so quickly but I figured he was already told to let me in seeing as I was going to be here often for the project.

'Thank you.' I answer.

'Please hold on a minute while I inform him of your arrival.' He says, reaching for the telephone on the desk. I allow him to make his call as I notice a wall mirror behind the stairs on the left-wing of the hotel. My pale skin reflecting in the mirror and my long, brown hair, a mass of curls, sweeping over my blue, body-fitting dress. A great workday Monday outfit that the girls helped me pick out before they left my place yesterday afternoon. I remember Vivian calling the outfit The Efficient Cleopatra. I see a middle-aged man in a black suit, similar to the rest of the staff, walk down the stairs towards the back of the reception. The same man that informed Oliver of pieces of equipment being delivered the last time I was here. 'Miss Patterson,' Edward calls again 'Mr. Wilde will see you in the Summer room.'

'Thank you, Edward.' I smile, making my way to the summer room.

As I reach the first floor, entering the hallway leading to the summer room, I see a large painting on the wall. I halt in my track to get a good look at it. It wasn't here on my Friday visit, I would've noticed it the moment I walked by because it was a really large and colorful acrylic painting. A fine piece that even in a small room, will stand out. It has a lot of colors but amidst, you could see the outline of a couple dancing under a fallen tree. It is beautiful. It looks like a happy and sad piece of art. Whoever made this painting must have a really good story behind it, though it looks like Afremov's pattern. One of the artists whose work I've come to recognize over the years of decorating. I notice its illustration was not centered on the couple but the lonely tree shielding the couple as they dance on the road path. I can't help but wonder why.

I hear the tapping of shoes coming into the hall from whence I came, but I don't bother finding out who it is, I can't take my eyes off the painting. A silver polished frame encapsulates the painting, its edges molded to soothe the marbelized wallpaper.

'Leonid Afremov.'

I'm dragged from my awed like state, straight into high alert at the raspy, smooth voice that almost had me swooning on the spot, Friday afternoon. I take a slow step away from the painting and my back straightens like it did the last time I heard his voice. It's becoming a reflex.

'He was inspired by a couple on his street in 1984.' He says mildly as he walks closer to where I stood. The woody musk scent of his perfume hitting my nostrils and I can't help myself, I take a deep breath inhaling as much as I can into my lungs. He smells so good, It's addictive. 'It was believed that Leonid could see the tree and the road path from his building. One night, he saw a couple under that tree. A man dressed in an army uniform, dancing with his woman under the lonely tree, pouring out their love in dance.'

I study the image carefully, as the details begin to sync in. The colors become brighter and clearer as I become familiar with the story. 'It's beautiful.' My voice is barely audible as I rip my eyes from the colorful painting and find Oliver's blue staring at me. Watching me.

'Yes, it is.' He replies not taking his eyes off me. My heart is pounding a frantic tattoo, and for some reason, I'm blushing furiously under his steady scrutiny. I'm almost certain as to what he is referring to but I don't bring myself to dwell on it. His eyes roam on my face like he can see right through me. I am utterly thrown by the sight of him standing before me. I can't ignore the desire he ignites inside of me but I can't acknowledge it either. I don't think I can be able to work for this man; I'm just way too affected by him.