Be My Muse Read online

  Be My Muse

  Mia Madison

  Be My Muse

  Copyright © 2018 by Mia Madison

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  1

  Is it hot in here or what?

  Christ, I could feel sweat starting to bead on my forehead. I licked my lips and reached for my glass of ice water, desperate for anything that might cool me down. A waiter glided up beside me, refilling my empty glass without so much as a word.

  “Excuse me,” I whispered before the man could walk away. His lips stayed flat as his eyebrows raised in a silent question. “Could you ask Arthur if the heater is working right? I’m burning up.”

  The way his lips curled down in distaste irritated me beyond belief. I recognized the man’s sour expression as something I’d seen many times before, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember his name.

  “Are you ill, Miss?”

  “No,” I grated, teeth clenched. “It’s just hot as fuck in here.”

  “Ah, but of course. I’ll speak to Arthur immediately,” he smoothly replied, unsurprised by my colorful language.

  Yeah, he’d definitely been around for a while.

  He whisked away as quickly as he came. I was sure that as soon as the head butler got word about the temperature in the house, I’d be able to breathe again.

  The lies we tell ourselves.

  “Is everything all right, dear?”

  I turned toward the sound of my mother’s flat voice. As expected, her attention was solely focused on the wine glass in her hand. She swirled the liquid around, watching the ripples with a weird fascination that gave away her total boredom with the evening’s festivities.

  “Everything’s fine. It’s just hot.”

  She snorted quietly, not bothering to meet my eyes as she whispered, “Is it? I thought it was a little chilly.”

  I swallowed hard around the lump forming in my throat. I watched Mom as she watched her wine, trying my best to ignore the set of eyes I could feel burning into my skin.

  Okay, so maybe there wasn’t a problem with the heater. Maybe the sweat and hot flashes were caused entirely by the final dinner guest to arrive.

  The one whose blazing eyes had yet to leave me since the man sat down at the table.

  Despite my best efforts to avoid his gaze, I could still feel it throughout the salad course. The brief glances I dared to shift in his direction confirmed my suspicions. The hairs on the back of my neck rose and I fought a shiver as it traveled up my spine. The only reaction that was out of my control was the ridiculous heat I could feel spreading through my whole body.

  Arthur glided into the room with his usual grace, waiting until my father was involved in a rather loud conversation with the man beside him before quietly slipping to my side to whisper, “The heater is functioning as usual, Miss Harmony. I’ve lowered the temperature a few degrees for you.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered back.

  A soft chuckle drew my attention across the table. I was mortified to find the man causing me so much grief staring directly at us. He’d obviously managed to tune out my father’s boisterous laugh and heard my exchange with Arthur. Fuck.

  “That’ll be all,” I said dismissively as I tried in vain to ignore the heat rising to my cheeks.

  Blushing was another reaction I couldn’t control. I mentally cursed my pale skin as I toyed with my silverware.

  The waiter who gave me the stink eye about my complaint came back around and placed a wine glass in front of me. He hesitated before pouring, another silent question in his eyes. After a curt nod, he filled the glass.

  I hadn’t come to dinner planning to drink, but I also hadn’t planned to be sitting across from the most gorgeous man I’d ever seen. Wine seemed like the best bet for making it through the night intact.

  After all, I knew firsthand just how long these events my father threw tended to last. I’d be here until at least midnight regardless. I might as well have a little too much to drink and spend the night in my old bed.

  Yet even though my bedroom was unchanged, I knew better than to think it was an open invitation to crash there whenever I liked. There were certain expectations I had to fulfill beforehand.

  Ignoring the weight of the eyes still on me, I shifted in my seat until I was facing away from my father and whispered, “Mom.”

  “Hm?”

  “Would it be all right if I slept here tonight?”

  Her eyes finally lifted from the wine glass. Unfortunately, they darted to my father before landing on me. A cold draft seemed to slip into the air, giving me a weird sense of foreboding.

  “I suppose that’d be fine.”

  I watched her carefully as she resumed staring into her glass of wine, trying to figure out if her demeanor was because of boredom or medication—maybe both. After a long minute of being watched, she broke the silence. Quieter this time, aware of the many, many ears at the table.

  “He knows.”

  Two words with the ability to cool my overheated body in a split second. I swallowed hard—denial on the tip of my tongue—but she looked at me again with those flat, all-knowing eyes.

  “You can stay, but expect a great deal of… interference.”

  The words were neutral, yet the warning lurking behind them was clear. My parents somehow found out about me losing my job.

  Once we were alone, Dad was going to raise hell.

  I wondered if they also knew I was on the verge of losing my apartment. I’d been without electricity for a week already and I was barely keeping the water running. I’d been practically begging for jobs at this point, yet only one employer was kind enough to tell me that I’d be placed on the callback list.

  By the time he called me back—if he ever did—I’d probably be without a cell phone. A lot of good that would do. It was difficult enough to keep it charged without power. I was pretty sure the other people in my building were beginning to think I was insane with how much time I spent in the washroom charging it.

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Shhh.”

  She silenced me with a scowl, the look on her face making it clear that this was not the time or the place to have this discussion. I nearly pointed out that she was the one who brought it up in the first place, my argument cut short by the loud clinking of silverware against glass as my father quieted everyone down and rose from his chair at the head of the table.

  He waited for all eyes to move toward him, scanning over the group in the meantime. His wide smile faltered a hair when he spotted me. Unperceivable to an untrained eye, but I was experienced enough to recognize it.

  A throat cleared. Having witnessed what everyone else seemed to have missed, the man across the table raised an eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side. His blue eyes narrowed as he scanned my face in search of… something. Rec
ognition, maybe? I was certain I’d never met him—it’d be impossible for a girl to forget a face like his—but his stare was so intense I couldn’t help but feel like I was mistaken.

  My attempts to figure out the mystery were put on hold when my father began to speak. Even as he greeted the occupants of the table, a quick glance told me the man was still watching me with that silent intensity.

  Like a switch was flipped, my body temperature rose again. This guy was—quite literally—going to drive me to drinking. I reached out with slow movements, careful not to draw any attention away from my father as I reached for my wine. After taking a large swallow to satisfy my parched throat, I forced myself to listen.

  Dad never bothered to introduce himself at dinner parties—everyone invited already knew who he was—but he made it a point to welcome everyone as a group and announce whatever ‘special guests’ he had invited for the night.

  “It’s truly an honor to introduce my special guest of the evening. I met him ages ago at a gallery in London and have been following his career ever since. I’ve also been pestering him for years to attend one of these dinners.” Dad paused to let everyone chuckle before raising his glass in the direction of the man sitting across from me. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming the world-renowned painter, Landon Connors.”

  Screw sipping. As the other guests began to whisper and speak aloud to and about Landon, I guzzled down the rest of my wine and motioned to the waiter for a refill.

  Just what I needed—another ridiculous attraction to another damn artist.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  2

  I was out of my seat the second dinner officially ended. Less than two minutes later, my parents cornered me in a hallway.

  “We need to talk,” Dad said, his voice low.

  “Can it wait until tomorrow? You have guests and I have a headache.”

  His eyes narrowed. He scanned my face for a moment before an angry grimace twisted his aging features.

  Worse than his anger was the heavy dose of disappointment in his voice when he asked, “Are you drunk?”

  I hated that he asked such an obvious question. I’d disappointed my parents enough for one lifetime. I was looking forward to the day when I would make them proud for a change.

  If that ever happens.

  “Maybe a little,” I admitted with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I—”

  “It’s fine,” Dad cut in. “You don’t have to explain. Just listen.” He paused to lean in, his hawk-like eyes focused on mine as he whispered, “Mr. Connors has been very focused on you this evening.”

  Ugh, like I needed the reminder. With a great deal of reluctance, I nodded my head to show that I was well aware of that fact.

  I never could have predicted the words that came out of his mouth next.

  “He seems twitchy—like he wants to leave. Go entertain him.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Entertain him. Maybe try to find out why he was so focused on you.”

  Mom snorted, rolling her eyes as she muttered, “Like we don’t already know the answer to that.”

  Dad hesitated for a moment before he tentatively said, “You could do a lot worse, darling.”

  “Are you drunk?” I asked incredulously, unable to stop the words from flying out of my mouth. “Are you seriously trying to hook me up with a man who looks like he’s closer to your age than mine?”

  “It’s Landon Connors, Harmony. Do you realize what having him in the family would do for us?”

  Mom stepped in at that point, shoving at my father’s shoulder and scowling from her place beside him.

  “Enough. I won’t let you whore out our only daughter to further your own career.”

  Dad had the decency to look scandalized as he exclaimed, “That’s not what I meant and you damn well know it!”

  The outburst attracted some attention from down the hall and the three of us watched as heads popped in, glancing between us with curiosity. Dad forced a smile before turning back and lowering his voice.

  “We know you lost your job. If you think we’re going to pay your bills after what happened with—”

  “I didn’t ask you to,” I growled, immediately regretting interrupting him when his eyes narrowed to thin slits. “I’ll get another job.”

  “You better. For tonight, if you want to stay here, you better go keep him entertained.” Dad took a deep breath and let his shoulders sag, his eyes softening before he added, “Just please keep him busy for a little while. I want to speak to him privately, but I have to make the rounds with the guests who are leaving first.”

  There was a strong feeling of dread wriggling around in my stomach, but how often did he ever say ‘please?’ It was a rare occurrence.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Thank you.”

  Two more rare words from him that I knew were meant to ramp up my guilt. Unfortunately, being aware of the intention didn’t make it any easier to ignore.

  Arthur was waiting dutifully down the hall to usher my father to the guests who were leaving. Mom trailed behind him, her expression illustrating just how bored she was of the reoccurring event.

  Yet I knew the moment she was within viewing distance, her usual polite smile would be firmly plastered in place—a flawless expression made by years of practice. I was probably the only one who could still see through it.

  Shaking out of my stupor, I forced myself to start moving in order to keep my promise and entertain Landon for the time being. I made it a whole ten feet down the hall when a voice halted my steps.

  “Your father sure knows how to throw a party.”

  I whipped my head toward the amused voice, my eyes widening when I saw Landon leaning in the doorway of the room closest to where our discussion took place.

  “H-How long have you been there?” I asked, swallowing roughly around the lump in my throat.

  Landon shrugged, the bemused curve of his lips never wavering. When he straightened to full height, I realized he was a hell of a lot taller than I imagined him being.

  “I wandered in right after Bill’s outburst.”

  If that was true, I could take solace in the fact that he didn’t hear the part where Dad mentioned him joining the family. I had no idea how I would’ve explained that one.

  “So, you’re supposed to entertain me until your father catches up to us. Is that right?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as his dark blue eyes stayed trained on my face. “You are very good it.”

  “At entertaining you? Yeah, I kind of noticed,” I dryly replied. The wine lingering in my system must have made me bold because I added, “You stared at me during the entire dinner. What’s up with that?”

  The way his expression softened into something that could only be described as tender wasn’t helping me at all. A dull ache formed in my chest, remnants of the last person who looked at me like that.

  “You inspire me.”

  The words were simple, spoken plainly with a casual shrug that told me he was being truthful.

  Honest or not, it was the last thing I wanted to hear because I could already foresee what was coming next.

  He reached into his coat pocket and produced a business card, passing it to me while his eyes held mine. I tore my gaze away and looked down, barely glancing over the name and address before looking back up to him as if I was in a trance.

  “Come to my studio. Your presence will be a great help to me.”

  Nope. Been there, done that. Say no, Harmony. Just. Say. No.

  “Come to my studio, love,” he repeated as a smile started tugging at his lips. “Be my muse.”

  “No.”

  Thank you, mouth! Took you long enough.

  “No?” The surprise made his accent more apparent and my determination wavered. “Why not?”

  I began backing away out of a weird sense of self-perseveration. I somehow knew that the longer I stood there looking at him, the more likely I was to give in. To
allow history to repeat itself.

  Not again.

  “I just can’t,” I said with a great deal of desperation, practically begging him to understand.

  I also hoped my father would understand why I wasn’t keeping Landon busy when he found out I bolted. Though if he left before my father could speak to him, I was sure he’d raise hell regardless of my reason.

  With a great deal of effort, I turned away and marched down the hall. Weirdly, every step I took seemed to make that dull ache grow in intensity. There couldn’t have been a better warning to stay away from him.

  “You need a job, do you not?”

  I froze. For a brief moment, I’d forgotten that he heard the second half of our conversation. With quite a bit of reluctance, I turned around.

  “I’ll pay you.”

  As he spoke, Landon took a few steps forward to close the distance between us. When we were face to face once again, he shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for a response.

  “Pay me for… what, exactly?”

  “To be my muse. All the job requires is your presence.”

  “Let me get this straight. You want to pay me to essentially sit around your studio and ‘inspire’ you.”

  “More or less.” Landon’s smile grew like he realized how close I was to giving in. “I can promise you won’t find an easier job with pay like this.”

  My eyes narrowed as I asked, “Just how much pay are we talking about?”

  “We will discuss it at my studio on Monday. Five o’clock sharp.”

  “Wait, five? Five in the morning?”

  “Yes. We’ll watch the sunrise together in celebration of our new partnership.”

  There were so many things that came to mind in response, but Landon refused to let me have the final word. He spun on his heel and marched away, leaving me to stare at his back with my mouth hanging open.