Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 76

Chapter 76

Iris

I turn, my drink still trembling slightly in my hand, and there he is–Arthur, standing right next to me, looking unfairly handsome in a tuxedo. The black fabric hugs his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt beneath making his green eyes pop even more.

I didn’t expect him to be here tonight, but for some reason, the sight of him floods me with an unexpected sense of relief.

But he’s in disguise, a black mask–the type of surgical mask that people wear when they’re sick–covering his lower face and a pair of glasses similar to mine resting on his nose. His hair is styled somewhat differently, too, although of course the curl that used to fall across his forehead is still neatly tamed as always.

Not that I can judge him for hiding his identity this time, though. I’m in disguise, too. Would either of us be in disguise, though, if it weren’t for his situation with Selina?

He nods toward my paintings. “Why didn’t you accept his offer?”

“Because I’m not a whore, Arthur,” I retort. “I won’t sell my body and time for a little extra cash. You should know that by now.”

His expression doesn’t shift into that familiar defensive look that I brace for. Instead, he steps closer to the painting we’re standing in front of, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He leans in, inspecting the painting.

“This is lovely,” he says softly.

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I study him for a moment, searching for some hidden motive behind those green eyes, but I don’t find anything. “Thank you,” I manage.

He turns to me and gestures around to the paintings hanging on the gallery walls. “Care to give me a tour?”

I relent, gesturing for him to follow me as I weave through the crowd.

“This one,” I say, stopping in front of the park bench piece “came to me all at once. I didn’t even sketch it out first. The cherry blossoms were tricky, though; I wanted them to look delicate, like they were fluttering down, but not too soft, because I wanted them to be almost indistinguishable from the pieces of canvas past a certain point.” Arthur studies the painting, his gaze slowly dragging across the petals fluttering down toward the ground. Halfway down, they become almost identical to the shreds of torn–up canvas, creating an illusion that the canvas- itself was once part of the tree.