𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 • 02 || ❝𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬❞

>𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃

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𝐌 𝐈 𝐋 𝐀 • 𝐎 𝐑 𝐋 𝐎 𝐕

It's only mid-day and I have finally finished the final canvas. I stare at the different buildings I have painted, each building has its own material, like the tallest tower in this city is covered in the beautiful red, orange, and yellow oil pants and the large church has the acrylic paint spread all over it. I'm never fully happy with my works, I always wish I provided my agents with more from me. I don't see my agent's a lot and I don't paint often, it isn't a full passion of mine, unlike other things. Especially as my imagination hardly strikes. Authors get writers block and artists get paint block. I sigh and look to the floor in disappointment. But, should I really care? After all, it's my work, not theirs and I have better things to do other than just painting.

"Hey, why so down Mila?" I feel the warmth of a palm come round my shoulder. I glance up and find Nikita observing my paintings, I find a glint of glee in her eyes, and there I have a slight bit of hope, but are your friends being nice because they have to be or because they are genuinely telling the truth? I should know the answer by now, Nikita is an honest person and does critique my work. Even if she still doesn't know me. "I just hope this is enough to impress, I don't care about the money, I just want people to enjoy what they see, and know what it is that they're looking at, possibly even think that they're there and not just staring at the picture painted in front of them." I look at her and catch her smiling.

"You worry too much, they look beautiful, I can't wait to see your big boy tonight. Are you selling it?" I have thought about this question a lot myself, but I don't think I could sell my main piece, so all I do is shake my head.

"I don't blame you, I bet it is stunning!" Nikita has no idea what it looks like, I purposely wanted to leave my main piece for the reveal at the exhibition tonight, it's said that more than one hundred people are coming, and that number makes me anxious slightly and I rarely get anxious. "We better get shopping and dressed; don't you think?" I agree with her, the only clothes I have in my dorm are summer dresses, black jeans, or some other work-out wear. But the attire requires everyone to dress to perfection, that means long ball dresses and men in suits or buttoned shirts. I drape the white cloth over my canvases and follow Nikita to the car.

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It wasn't a busy afternoon in Gum, it is full of the most beautiful boutiques, but the only problem with living here is the expenses. I glance up at the large glass ceiling which allows the sunlight beam through and reflect off the light walls surrounding the perimeter of the building. It's a beautiful building here in the square but a sudden tug on my coat takes me away from my daydreaming of the architecture. "In here!" I follow Nikita into the gorgeous shop in front, it's decorated with pale pink flowers and shopping baskets inside.

We separate our ways and take different ends at the shop; I find myself at the longer dresses and Nikita is with the shorter ones. I have no idea what kind of dress I'm looking for, or what colour for that matter, there aren't many dresses that could match well with my hair colour.

"I found this long lilac one." Nikita holds up the long sparkly dress, it is stunning and would look beautiful on her. I continue to browse through the racks of clothing while Nikita tries on her dress, she opens the curtain and turns in a full circle. The dress for her is a perfect size and the colour is exactly what matches her style, her bouncy curls, and her brown eyes the dress only enhances her features.

"Come on let's find you one." She takes me to the other side of the shop while she is still wearing the dress and forces me to look at the longer ones, it wasn't originally what I wanted to look at, but what other choice do I have? "What colours could I wear?"

Nikita thinks for a moment, then looks at me and smiles, "Gold, purple, pink." We look at the dresses surrounding us, almost causing me to feel claustrophobic. "Green. A nice, dark green." I think about it and then suddenly see something to the right of me. I pull out the long green dress and hold it up. The dress is a gorgeous emerald green with a triangular top, I observe it further and find a slit on the right side of the dress all the way from the bottom of the dress to nearly where it would meet my thigh.

"Perfect." Nikita agrees and forces me to try on the dress. I've always hated trying on clothes in shops, but when I'm spending a lot of money, I kind of have to make sure it fits first, there is probably no way I could bring this back, or, if I could it would be exchange only. I slip on the dress over my shoulders and thread my arms through the thin straps, it straps my breasts in place but that's where I notice the look of my bra. The dress is perfect other than that small feature, the dress fits and hugs every feature of mine. I unveil the curtain and watch as Nikita's smile widens, revealing her pearly white teeth.

"What's wrong with it? You have a face of disgust." She lifts her perfectly shaped eyebrow and wait for me to speak. "My bra is showing." I face back to the long mirror in the changing room and attempt to find more flaws of the dress, but in all honesty, there isn't any.

"Who needs to wear a bra? Just wear nipple covers, you'll be okay." It was easy for Nikita to say that, I was top-heavy, if I was to not wear a bra, I'd probably accidently knock someone out.

"Just buy the dress." She rolls her eyes.

And for some peculiar reason, we get changed into our casual clothes and buy the expensive dresses and find out that our cards are hundred rubles lighter.

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It's finally the evening. The place is packed and people are wandering around with champagne in their hands while they talk about the art that is coated around the walls. The main pieces hang in front of me in a much more secluded area, I look at my main piece, I try and memorise the way I painted St Petersburg. I always find ways to judge my work, the lining seems slightly off and the mixing of colours could've been better, but we were on a tight schedule this month. I stare down at the little sign on the bottom with has the words 'Not for sale' Imprinted on the plaque.

A few moments pass and I exit from the small room, it's open for anyone to walk in and have a look but not many people have entered it so far.

I walk around, staring at everyone looking at my art, I feel awkward, I don't like standing around while members of the public dictate what they do or don't like about my art, I don't even really like people. But that is all these rich people do here, they have to get the perfect painting for their living rooms. I can see that Nikita is mingling and trying to make the rounds of talking to the rich people in suits and tight dresses, but to me, I couldn't think of anything worse. While everyone is talking, paintings are showcased ready for auction. I watch closely until my agent comes close behind me.

"Enjoying yourself Mila?" She questions and I nod lightly.

"I came over to let you know that your work is incredible this time round." Anna had a funny way of critiquing people's art work, she says she understands but in reality, I don't think she does. She won't understand the emotion behind painting and how peaceful it is, I doubt she has ever even picked up a paint brush before, but she had a lot to say about my last lot of works.

"Anyway, sales are good tonight." And that is all Anna seems to care about, money. Although the money goes into our bank accounts, she gets the percentage of being 'in charge'. Which, in theory doesn't bother me, it is my name that is signed on the canvases not hers. Anna wasn't a horrible person, but she has a funny way of showing how much she cares.

"Really?" I question, attempting to show an interest, but with every exhibition, every night is a good sale. By the end of this there will hardly be any art works left over. Anna rambles on but I notice someone in the distance with jet black hair and dark eyes, their face is smug, their suit is tight and the wine glass they're holding almost looks like it's going to fall. I try and stare away but I have a bad gut feeling about him.

"I better get going and see how Nikita is doing." I nod and sip from the wine glass, feeling the bubbles of champagne tingle my lips, the taste is foul, but I drink it anyway. Anna turns around but she is suddenly stopped in her tracks. "Oh, and St Petersburg sold." She smiles, but my face drains of colour. I chase her in my four-inch heels.

"But that painting wasn't for sale." I state, I have told her clearly that the painting was not for sale, that place holds so many memories. "That wasn't your choice to make." I feel like I'm getting overwhelmed with emotion, anger, disgust, and sadness.

"It made a good profit Mila." She sighs, "The buyer was adamant that he wanted it. Check your bank, it should've already processed." With that I take out my phone from my clutch bag and go onto my banking app, revealing what has come into my account.

2,000,000.00+ Russian Rubles.

I cover my mouth with my hand in shock. Although that amount of money would be helpful, I can't help but think of the painting I've lost. "Hey, I saw you from across the room." I turn and find the jet black-haired man stare at me with his eyes, he is even more creepy up close.

"I'm sorry, I can't talk at the moment, give me a moment." I take in a deep breath and try and walk away but the man grabs my wrist with aggression. "I said I saw you, that means I want to talk now."

Before the creep can pull me to the side, he is suddenly pushed away from me and is experiencing a pain ache around his neck. Someone in front of me holds the guy up with his hand and grips him tighter and tighter, it's a shame I couldn't get there first, but it wasn't very ladylike to behave like that in public.

"Touch a woman like that again and I'll break your fingers." He grits through his teeth; I can't see his face but I can tell he is angry. I can imagine his face roaring with range from the tone in his voice. "Now leave." He releases the creep who then runs out of the exhibition. The guy in front of me straightens his suit and turns around.

"Thank you." I mutter lightly. I admire his features for a quick moment, his floppy dirty blonde hair, and his blue eyes along with the slight stubble surrounding the edge of his face, but a sense of familiarity hits me.

"You're welcome."