A hoarse voice boomed in midst of the silence in the studio. Tall, sculpted figure; charming. His face glowed with grace. Almond shaped eyes, one mono and one double eyelid; deep mocha-brown orbs, glaring at the forty year old man in front of him.
"Excuse me mister, but you can't really boss me around about what I've to paint."
"I'm your client, pretty boy; if I've to remind you anything but I am the boss of you," the man replied with a smug look.
The boy felt nothing but strong anger. Art is something that can't be forced out of an artist. He was an artist of great recognition. His paintings spoke pain, in the rare form of beauty and grace. Anything coming out of his paintbrush was nothing but strokes bound to create a masterpiece. Every line he drew ended up in something a gallery would pay millions, for. But, that never attracted Vante. He was a man who grew up in the riches, but he never let it forget his principles. He painted his pain. So, when the man bossed him around, he felt angry.
"You might be really rich Mr Givani, but your money doesn't matter in my paintings. I paint what I feel, and not what you feel. If you want to buy something that's my original, I'm ready to give it; otherwise you know where the exit is."
Vante's attitude didn't shock the man. "Fine. I trust your work. A highly revered artist like you can't be let gone. So, give me the best you can make."
Vante looked at the man. The man's suit, which had a very flashy ruby brooch pinned to his Dior jacket, radiated richness.
"Fine, then. I'll make my painting."
Instead of going away, the man stood besides Vante. Vante looked at him with a raised eyebrow, studying the man. White beard, with glimpses of black, and a Cuban cigar which adorned his now red lips, from the wine he offered. His green eyes were still calm, studying every move that Vante was making. He saw how the boy was immersed in his yet another masterpiece of a man, holding a bouquet of white pansies, just to be tainted by pouring red drops from his eyes.
"Well, I have a little something. I want you to make something happy. Something that radiates pure happiness. Not any kind of pain, but love,"
Vante stopped what he was doing. His jaw clenched, and his posture, tensed. He felt a certain tightness in his chest. Love. Oh, how much he despised it. The only feeling he felt was safety, and comfort. Love was something far-fetched. He looked at the man. He wanted to turn down the offer, but then that will be something he didn't want others to know about his worst experience in that area.
He got up from his stool, went towards the man, and stood face to face with the man.
"Deal."
The man smirked, and went away. Vante gave out a sigh of concern. He was in desperate need of an inspiration now.
Walking towards the window, he stopped by the pane. It was raining, something he could relate his pain, to.
But then, he wanted something that could give him the inspiration. His safe place. Yes! His safe place!
A curve arose on his rosy lips. Paris.
He went back to his room and packed a few clothes for his trip.
Well, a long trip.
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A/N-
Hey everyone! This is our first book together. It's kinda gonna be a slow update, so I'll suggest you hang in there, cause things won't exactly go where you want them to go *evil grin*
I hope y'all enjoy this❤️
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Blood Ink
Action"Sure." Vante saw him fading into the distance. We will meet again. _________________________________________________ Leicester Lanighan , heir to the Magliona corporation never thought he could ever break the mundane cycle that was his life ..... ...
