"Will you let me make it up to you?" He asked in a whisper.
I whispered a 'yes' before feeling his lips softly touch mine. The soft-touch turned into that eager want. One small kiss made all the pent-up anger go away. My body let go once his touch r...
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Dorian's POV
It had been two years since Dad and I had our brief trip to London. Every day for the last two years, Elinor had been running through my mind. I took a sip of the refreshingly cold whiskey as a distraction. My mind kept thinking about her repeatedly. I could still remember the sadness I saw in her eyes. That one look had been burned into my brain. I looked up around me and remembered where I had been for the last couple of hours. This crowded bar was anything but quiet. The bright lights, loud music and rowdy crowd made me wonder how I had managed those nights where I would party with Yak and Tony. Shaking my head, I took out three fifty-dollar bills and left them under my finished glass for the bartender who had served me. After a long day at work, all I needed was a cold taste of whiskey. Walking through the crowd, I accidentally bumped into someone.
"Hey, watch it!" A voice snapped at me. As the figure turned towards me, I noticed her eyes recognise me. A smile played on her lips as she looked me up and down.
"Oh my god, You're Dorian Bradley..."
"No, I'm not," I said normally, trying to walk away from her and find the goddam exit. The last thing I wanted was to be recognised and somehow be taking someone to my apartment.
"Yeah, you are. God, you are gorgeous in person!" I could feel her trail up my arm and onto my shoulder.
"Trust me, I'm not him." I replied, taking her hand off my shoulder. "Have a good night."
"One dance, baby," she beckoned, her lips dangerously close to my ear.
I groaned in frustration and headed straight for the exit. On the one night I let my security detail have the night off, I got myself into something. As soon as I was out of the building, a flash of light hit me. It blinded me for seconds before another flash of light hit me. Paparazzi, my worst enemy. Dodging their questions and the odd remarks here and there, I walked down the dark streets. With every step I took, they followed. Before I knew it, I picked up the pace. I had to run away from the photographers. I did not know where I was heading. I knew 'The Hamptons' from when I was a kid, but it had been so long since I had come down here. Before I even knew what I was doing, I turned towards the rear side of a building. Looking around, I saw an empty parking spot near the dumpster and a set of stairs leading up to an apartment upstairs. The last thing I wanted to do was disturb anyone living here. God, I could image the headline now. Then, by some grace of a miracle, I spotted a door near the bottom of the stairs. I headed towards the door, my fingers curling around the cold, brassy door handle and twisting it down. With a slight push, the door opened.
They wouldn't mind if I spent ten minutes in here, right?
I stepped into the dark hallway, my hand scathing across the wall, trying to find a light switch. Finding the switch, the light flicked on and it illuminated the dark room with the bright lightbulb. What caught my eye wasn't the gallery at the end of the hallway, but the art studio room. I knew going in was wrong, but one peek had me wondering what else was hiding in there. As I stepped further into the studio, I couldn't help but stand in amazement. The abstract pieces had me looking at them for what felt like forever. Some pieces had disfigured faces that had darkness surrounding them. But the one thing that had me intrigued was the blank canvas on the studio table. On it was a small sticky note. I took a closer look to see what it said.
