Leo swore it was the same girl from the elevator standing in front of the bouncer. She looked panicked, clutching that damn painting like her life depended on it. 'What's her deal?' He stepped closer, eavesdropping.
Apparently, she had forgotten her invitation card. Coincidentally, he had found one inside the elevator. He wouldn't dare assume it was hers, but... height? Maybe. Scent? No, this girl smelled far more feminine, a soft, delicate fragrance compared to 'elevator girl,' who had a sweeter, more playful scent. Hair? He wasn't sure. His gut told him it was the same person, but he had no proof.
"I can vouch for her. She's with me. I'm sure this petite girl isn't a threat to anyone inside. Right, Miss...?" he interrupted the conversation, watching as she turned to him with striking dark brown eyes. Beautiful. Probably contact lenses.
She looked uncomfortable. Now, that was a first. Before he could place his hand on her waist, Mr. Rodrigo appeared, welcoming them both. He called her Miss Florence. Leo felt an unexpected pang of disappointment —he had been hoping to finally learn her first name. They parted ways as he was escorted to the receiving room by a girl named Piper. She was shy but clearly excited, no doubt a fan. His assumption was proven correct within minutes.
As soon as he sat down, she eagerly asked for a selfie, then an autograph, then another selfie. He smiled politely, waiting for his painting to arrive. Ten minutes later, Mr. Rodrigo entered with Tsuki. The moment he laid eyes on it, he was speechless. It was beyond imagination—far more incredible than the picture he had seen on someone's phone. Way more impressive than he had expected. His €20,000 bid suddenly felt like a steal.
This wasn't just a painting—it was art in its purest form. The paint wasn't typical either; it was homemade, crafted from natural pigments. The deep blue came from flowers, the warm brown possibly from tree bark, and the moon's ethereal glow... Snail slime? Mr. Rodrigo mentioned that. The strokes were meticulous, each layer building on the next, the texture alive with raw beauty. Even the scent of it was different—earthy, organic, like nature itself.
He was frozen, staring at it. In the bottom right corner, the artist's signature stood out—a simple star, the mark of Stars.
"It's mind-blowing, isn't it, sir? I was thrilled to present this masterpiece. Shall I wrap it for you? Do you plan to gift it or display it?" Mr. Rodrigo asked.
"This masterpiece doesn't deserve to be hidden away, and it's far too priceless to give away. I'm going to start a collection of Stars' work. When will her next piece be available?" Leo asked, intrigued.
Mr. Rodrigo paled slightly. "Stars aka Celeste Nocturne is an anonymous artist, sir. I hadn't been in contact until the auction. Very secretive. But I'd suggest keeping an eye on our gallery for updates."
That answer didn't sit right with him. Mr. Rodrigo disappeared with the painting, returning ten minutes later with it carefully wrapped. As Leo reached for it, he casually asked, "By the way, who was that girl earlier? What painting was she carrying? Is she an artist too?"
"That's Miss Florence," Rodrigo replied smoothly. "She inherited an old collection from her great-grandmother. She was considering selling a piece but ultimately refused due to sentimental value." Leo narrowed his eyes slightly, studying the gallery owner's expression. Something about that explanation felt... rehearsed.
"Oh well," he said, deciding not to push—yet. "Thank you for your prompt service, Mr. Rodrigo. Pleasure doing business with you. I'll be checking in frequently from now on."
With that, he left, placing Tsuki carefully in the passenger seat of his orange Lamborghini Huracán Performante before driving off.
He had an interview after lunch, but right now? He was starving. Arriving at the hotel, he parked in the VVIP section— there was no way he'd trust a valet with his new car. Grabbing the wrapped painting carefully, he headed toward the entrance. And almost tripped. Crossing his path at the exact same moment was her—Miss Florence. She still had her painting in hand, and it seemed they had arrived at the hotel at the same time.
"Hey, you. We've run into each other a few times now. I think it's only fair if we introduce ourselves. I'm Leo." He extended his hand.
She hesitated for a second before taking it, lowering her mask. "Florence. Nice to meet you."
He raised an eyebrow. "I thought Florence was your last name."
She smirked. "Maybe it is."
He chuckled. "I'm heading to lunch. Care to join me?"
She glanced at the time before nodding. "My flight's at 3:30. I guess I can spare time for lunch."
With that, she turned and strode ahead toward the hotel's rooftop restaurant, pressing the elevator button. Leaving his hand empty. "You coming?" she asked, looking back at him with an amused expression.
"Yeah. Sure." He nearly laughed, juggling the painting as he hurried in after her. As the elevator doors closed, he found himself observing her more closely. She had a unique look—almost Japanese, yet distinctly different. Soft, full pink lips, a delicate nose, and those mesmerizing eyes...
'Wait. Why the hell am I doing this?'
"Don 't stare too much," she teased, a sultry smirk curling on her lips. "You might just get your heart broken." she continued. Before he could even react, she lightly traced a single fingertip down his cheek, her touch featherlight. And then, just like that, the doors opened, and she stepped out toward the rooftop.
For the first time in forever, Leo Vargas-Clairmont felt something unexpected. She was sweet, but never naïve. Confident, but not arrogant. Innocent, yet undeniably alluring. She knew exactly what she was doing.
And for once, he's the one who wasn't sure if she was actually interested... or just playing the game better than he ever was. Smirking to himself, he followed her to their table. This lunch was about to get very interesting.