Deceret Series #2: Bleed for Love

Chapter 4

Seduce and destroy.

That was the plan I formulated inside my head while driving recklessly towards the city. I grit my teeth as the annoying voice of the interviewer rang inside my head once again. Come to think of it, I never liked her. The academy looks like a prison to me. With their strict rules and nonsense policies, how will they ever breed artists as brilliant as Rigor? Art has no rules!

And why am I so angry over losing a job I didn't like?

Bumagal ang pagmamaneho ko nang mamataan ang red light. I shut my eyes for a bit, trying to silence the screaming voices inside of my head. I'm angry because in my situation, it does not matter whether I like the job or not. I have a son to feed. I need this job more than it needs me. I lost it before it even started.

Nagpupuyos pa rin ako hanggang sa makarating sa studio niya. I parked outside and climbed out of the car and went inside the building. His studio is in the third floor. Nagmamadali akong pumasok sa elevator at pinindot ang third floor. A few seconds later, the doors open.

Clearly, I'm wrong. His studio is not in the third floor. It is the third floor.

The lucky bastard occupies the entire floor for his art, and in this state, he's just here in the country temporarily? Napailing ako. I walked down the short hallway leading to the double doors. It's so plain and dull outside, no one would suspect that it's a studio. There's not even a sign.

I knock twice and didn't even bother to wait for his reply as I push the doors open. The inside is the complete opposite of the outside. I step inside the vast sun-washed room with floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooks the city. The blinds are down in a fraction of the walls, probably to block the harsh mid-day sunlight. There are roman pillars where division should take place, so it looks like a very big, airy atelier.

Canvases ranging from small to large lined the white walls. Some are finished, while other pieces are still waiting for their final touches. There are several long, wooden tables with buckets of paint, and a shelf that houses all the brushes and other materials. A small desk sits in the corner with an open MacBook and a small, compact speaker. Despite the abundance of liquid chemicals from the paint, his studio smells pleasant. Like sun and wild honey. At the far east of the studio is a door which I assume leads to his private office.

In the middle of it all is Rigor, hunched over a canvas thrice his size, working on his next masterpiece. He probably felt hot earlier because his top is off and hanging loosely on his broad shoulders. The muscles in his back contracts and relaxes as he splashes paint across the canvas, pouring it with his undivided attention. I winced when some of the paint splattered across the screen of his phone, carelessly thrown by his side.

I cleared my throat to get his attention, all the while wondering if he ever made a self-portrait. He'd make a sensual subject, and I know he'll make tons of money out of it, too. His fangirls wouldn't hesitate to shed money for a chance to get their hands on his brooding looks in a canvas. It will fulfill their fantasies with him, that, I am sure.

"Rigor!" I snapped when the brute didn't even bother to turn and look at me. Hindi ata ako narinig o talagang abala sa ginagawa.

Finally, his hand stops mid-air and turns his head to me. Sweat is dripping from the tips of his hair, down to his shoulder. I frown. Naiinitan nga talaga.

"You're here..." he says, glancing back at the canvas as if he doesn't want to be taken away from what he's doing.

Unfortunately for him, I came here for business.

I shut the door behind me and walks toward him. He reaches for the rag and starts wiping the paint off his hands while watching me come to him. Nac-conscious ako pero inignora ko nalang ang nararamdaman hanggang sa makalapit ako sa kaniya.