The Falcon Ridge Series Book 4: Art of a Girl

(Chapter song ‘Pretty Woman' by Robbie Williams, Cello Suite No.1 in G minor' by Johann Sebastian Bach)

BASTIAN

I hang up the phone and stare at it. Although a smile crosses my lips, a wave of nervousness starts to crawl across my skin.

Sammy just called and told me she wants to talk. Like a chat. A date.

Great! Wonderful! Amazing! Then our conversation the other day slammed my fucking brain like a wrecking ball smashing all my excitement to shit.

I stride across my office and throw open the door. “NIGEL!!”

I walk hastily through the office hall and into the common room. “NIGEL! WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Here!” He jogs in from the foyer. “What’s wrong?” He slows down in front of me and stops.

I hold my phone up to his eyes. “My fucking life imploding.” I growl.

“What? Why?” He flicks his eyes between me and my phone.

I tuck it back into my pocket. “Sammy agreed to a date.”

A big grin crosses his lips. “How’s that bad?! B. That’s great!!” He slaps my arm.

I shake my head. “No… I’m in trouble.” I raise a brow to him.

He snorts. “Why? You love dates.”

“Yeah, but Sam doesn't want my dates! I don’t know what she wants! She doesn’t want restaurants or fine wine or… I have no clue…” My brows shoot up as I stare into his eyes.

He starts to chuckle. “Are you saying…the great powerful Bastian Cole is being humbled by a woman?”

I point to his nose and my lips shrink. “Knock it off. Help me or you’re fired.” I glare and make sure he hears that I’m not playing.

He laughs more and pushes my hand away. “Ok. What do you need?”

I flop my hands to my sides. “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I don’t know! She blasted all my go to’s. What am I dealing with here?”

He folds his arms. “What you’re dealing with is a girl that’s down to earth and not up for bullshit, B. You got called out and she’s making you be real.”

“I’m real.” I scowl.

He presses his lips together. “Your definition and hers… most likely two different things.”

I place my hands on my hips. “Fine. I need some idea. I need this to go good.”

“Ok. Look, B. It’s simple. Forget the flash and the glitter. Forget all of that.” He wipes his hand between us.

I cinch my brow. “Then what? What kind of date doesn’t have flash?”

He shakes his head. “A girl like Sammy, probably likes a night stroll where you guys just talk. She wants to see you. Not what you can spoil her with.” He thumps a finger in my chest.

I slightly smirk. “Naw. I don’t believe it. No. This is some sort of act or something. All women love being spoiled.”

“Not this one.” He insists.

“No. Nigel. Are you trying to mess this up for me?” I scowl.

He walks up to me and places his hand on my shoulder. He sighs deeply and stares into my eyes. “Bastian… I mean this in the most bro loving way I can. In the last few weeks, my blood pressure has dropped significantly. Staff morale is up because, for some reason, that girl has been able to put a cap on your angry Alpha.”

He crosses his arms and purses his lips as I blink at him. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong because I have a vested interest to make sure this date goes absolutely fucking perfect.”

I rub my neck. “Angry Alpha.” I nod and drop my head. “Ok…” I raise my eye to him, grab his shirt and pull him to me. “If you don’t cut the crap, I'll show you a real angry Alpha!! “ I growl in his face.

“I’m not lying, Bastian!!” He scowls and rips my hand off. “Just trust me. Don’t treat her like Caroline. Treat her like Sam.”

“What does that mean?” I raise a brow.

He back hands my chest. “What does she like? Does she have a favorite place or food? Does she have a hobby that’s fun?”

I slam a hand on his chest as a light bulb went off. “Shut up. I just had a great idea.” I say as the ideas fly through the brain.

“Cool. I’m glad I could help.” He grins.

“I would have figured it out. I didn’t really need your help.” I raise chin and strut to the office hall.

“Sure, B. Have fun.” He says to my back.

Once in my office, I have a ton of phone calls to make. If I know Sammy. She'll have the time of her life.

****

After telling Sammy she should dress for the Opera, I told her I would pick her up at 9. I made sure everything was in order. Double and triple checked everything.

I’m really starting to scare myself. I’ve never put this much effort into a date. Especially, one where I’m not actually expecting to get anything out of it. Except her time, of course. Do I want to be with Sammy? In the worst way, but it’s not ruling my brain right now. Usually, I can’t wait for the date to be over so I can get to the good part.

After fixing my tie and hair, I jog down the stairs. “Nigel, did you call Sammy?”

He strolls into the foyer with his hands in his pockets. “Yes I did. She’s eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

“Sure, she is.” I smirk.

“How do I look?” I hold my arms out.

“Like a million bucks.” He grins.

“Shit.” My lips fall.

“It’s fine, Bastian. I’m sure she won’t care that you wore a suit.” He chuckles.

I straighten myself up and flash a charming smile. “Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t.” He waves me out the door and I jog down the steps to awaiting limo.

Yes, I used my limo because I feel it’s a compliment to where we will be going, but it’s only for transportation, not glitz and glamor. Where we’re going, there won’t be anyone there except a guard or two. No press or people trying to get my attention. Nope. It’ll be just us. I can’t wait.

We drove through the city and I notice how simple the houses are in this end of town. I don’t think I’ve actually looked at it before. Most of the time, I just take the same route in and out of town for work. If I do go out, it's mainly in the upper downtown area, another state or even another country, if I wish.

As I take the time to look over the houses, I have to appreciate how they can live happy lives in such small accommodations. I like my space. I’d be suffering from claustrophobia within a few minutes.

The limo pulls up to a small, white house and the driver lets me out. I fix myself up and walk down the gravel driveway to the door on the side of it. I ring the bell then place my hands behind my back.

Within a few minutes, the simple wooden front door opens and I suck in a breath.

She has a sweet smile on her face. Her make up is light and her hair is pulled into a bun. She’s wearing an off the shoulder, black cocktail dress and black heels. Her legs…oh my God. I could stand here and look at her all night.

“Bastian?”

I give my head a shake. “Yes. Sorry.” I smile with a touch of embarrassment.

“I was thanking you for this. After what I said, I didn’t think…” She steps out and closes the Dorr behind her.

I hold up a hand. “Don’t. You…offered clarity. I just hope tonight says something to you.”

“I hope so, too.” She breathes.

I offer my hand. “Come with me.” I use my best chivalrous tone.

“Thank you.”

I escort her up the driveway to the limo where the driver waits. I help her in and I follow. The driver shuts the door and I get comfortable. I side her as she looks over the car.

“What do you think?” I ask as I turn to her.

“It’s not my truck.” She giggles.

I sense her nervousness. “No. That’s true. I just wanted you to be comfortable.”

“It certainly is.” She smiles and looks out the window as the driver pulls away.

“I brought you something. I lean forward and pick up a three gardenia bouquet and hand it to her.

“I thought I smelled them in here.” She grins. I watch her lift the flowers to her nose and take in their scent. Her eyes flick to mine. “Did the pack house tell you which ones they sent me?”

I clear my throat. “Yes… They did.”

“I think they’re becoming my favorite flower.” She says quietly.

“True beauty knows beauty when they see it.” Lean to her and give a charming smile.

Her cheeks turn pink and she smells the flower again. “So, where are we going?”

“Some place I think you’ll really enjoy.” I look out the window. “A nice quiet place to talk.” I look her over and just take in all that she is.

She meets my eyes. “Now, I’m curious to see what you think I would enjoy.”

“See for yourself.” I roll my window down as the limo pulls into the parking lot of a modern styled building lit up with pot lights and spotlights. The building is square with three floors and two square additions on the front. The landscaping is professionally done and there’s a statue in the middle of the fountain of a Greek mythology muse. It stands on an open rotunda with artistically designed benches on the edges.

It's dark, but some lights are still on inside.

She leans closer to my window then turns her eyes to me. “The art museum?”

“You like it?” I grin.

“Well, yes. But it closed hours ago.” She crinkles her brow as she sits back.

I lean to her. “I’m Bastian Cole. Nothing’s closed to me.”

She blinks at me as the driver opens the door. I step out and help her out. The driver shuts the door and walks away.

“Bastian…” She starts.

I offer her my arm. “Just…trust me.” I raise a brow.

“OK.” She side eyes me and wraps her arm around mine.

As we walk around the fountain to the front door, I watch her eyes scan the sculpture and the outside of the building.

When we get to the glass doors, I tap a knuckle on the glass. After a second, a guard comes to the door and unlocks it.

“Alpha. Miss, you look lovely tonight.” He smiles as he holds the door open.

“Thank you.” She smiles, but I can sense her nervousness.

“Is everything in order?” I ask as I guide Sam in.

“Just as you requested. The curator wanted me to thank you for your donation to the arts.” He slightly bows.

“You’re welcome.” I smirk.

“You donated to the museum?” She looks up at me.

We walk into the front lobby which has some artwork on the walls, marble floors, soft lighting and a gift shop off to the side that’s closed.

“I think the arts are important. They need support, I needed a place to take a beautiful woman.” I lean to her with a grin.

“Oh.” She casually looks away and starts to inspect the art.

“Ready?” I motion to the main part of the museum.

“Yes.” She grins.

I guide her into the hall labeled ‘Classic Art’, and then I set her free.

She controlled the pace and I watched her every move. She floated from painting to painting. She analyzed every sculpture as Johann Sebastian Bach played quietly above our heads.

I observed her wrap her arm around her waist and gracefully step to a large portrait of a woman. She gently rubs her chin and as I walk up behind her.

I lean to her ear. “What’s she saying?”

She glances at me with a tiny bit of caution in her eyes.

I glance at the woman in white sitting in a garden. She has a leg exposed and her fingers are lightly playing in a pond. Her dress is torn. Her hair is unkempt, there’s a broken window in a house behind her and some of the flowers around her are dead.

She holds herself and looks the woman over. “She’s saying that even though she’s flawed. Broken in some way. And the world around her is harsh, she is still able to find joy in simple pond and that, in turn, radiates the beauty within her. See the slight smile on her lips?”

I lean back. “Interesting.” I turn. “What about this one?”

She turns and glances at me with a raised brow.

“Go on.” I motion to the painting across the hall with a decorative gold flecked frame. It’s larger than the one we just looked at.

She strolls over the painting of what looks like a party in Renaissance times. Women are draped on couches wearing fancy, lacy dresses and men in fashionable suits are talking in groups. One man stands off to the side with a drink and a stiff chin. He looks like the man of the house they’re in.

“So…tell me.” I challenge playfully.

“Well, on the surface, everyone looks like they’re having a good time socializing, but it’s the subtle things.” She critiques.

“Like what?” I’m curious.

“For starters. The women. They may be talking, but they look bored. This gathering is so common place, they don’t really enjoy it. The men… The way they stand and hold their cigars. You see the one man with a look of judgment. Like he’s better. The whole ordeal feels like there’s not one authentic person at that party. They’re all just playing the role that society dictates when it comes to the social elite.” She steps closer to study it further.

I place my hands in my pockets and stand beside her. “So, you believe this is a room filled with people who may be well off, but not enjoying it?”

“That’s what I see.” She turns to me. “They say money buys happiness, but when I look at that painting, all I see is a man who paid money to buy friends who don’t really care about him. Notice none of them are looking his way. He seems separated from them all. And he looks like he's in denial about it by presenting himself as being better than them when that’s most likely not the truth. In reality, I don’t know anyone who would be happy about that deep down.”

She turns and continues down the hall as I side eye the painting and chew my cheek. I stare at the man standing tall over the party with his drink.

I turn my eyes to Sammy’s back. It’s an interesting take, but what she fails to realize is people like myself know this already and accept it. What I see is a man solidifying the image that society expects. He is playing his role, but his role for himself. He needs to look good for the status he claims. If he has to surround himself with people less than caring, that’s fine. People like myself really don’t care about them either. When you get to a certain height, you really can’t afford to be authentic publicly. If you want the top, you must play the part.

Authenticity is for people who have nothing else but that.

I catch up and we stroll through hall after hall. Modern Art. Replicas of famous paintings. Contemporary sculptures. Religion. War. Still life. Drawing. Prints. Antiquities. We went through it all. We discussed everything.

She’s extremely insightful and observant. I’ve never met anyone who could feel something deep from a simple painting of a bowl or open field. This truly is an amazing experience for me. It’s like her artistic mind is infused into her soul and I’m standing next to her witnessing her expose that to me. I need to dig deeper.

As we walked down the quiet hallway, I decided to change the subject from art to something a little more personal.

“You said you were adopted. How did that happen, if I may ask?” I keep my hands behind my back as I take in her flowery scent and watch her body slowly move in front of me.

“Um…My birth parents. They died in an accident and I was sent to the orphanage. I was there until my adopted mother found me.” She drops back and clasps her hands at her chest.

“That’s tragic. I’m sorry.” I say quietly.

She waves me off. “It’s ok. It was 20 years ago. I barely remember it.”

I stop her. “I’m happy that you were still able to make a fulfilling life for yourself.” I smile.

She slightly giggles. “I’m sure my life isn’t as fulfilling as yours, but I do what I can with what I have.”

I narrow my eyes with a slight smile. “It may be different, but you seem to be just as satisfied with life as I am.”

She shakes her head. “I wish that were true, Bastian. It’s not satisfaction. It’s acceptance that life isn’t perfect, and we can’t make it perfect no matter how hard we try.” She looks me over. “The unfortunate part is that some people blind themselves by thinking perfection is attainable, and that they have it, when really, all it is, is them refusing to acknowledge the flaws around them, and in themselves.”

“What’s that mean?” I give her a curious look.

She walks up to me and looks into my eyes. “It means the outside may look perfect, but the reality of it will always lie underneath.” She pokes my chest with a smirk, turns and walks away.

That felt like a dig. Was that a dig?

After thinking for a moment, I brush it off as just more deep thinking and that she wasn’t talking about me personally. I know what I have and what I don’t. I’m pretty confident in myself and my life. She may believe perfection doesn’t exist, but I live it every day.

I’m sure my pack feels it, too. They can’t have an Alpha like me and not feel the things I do for them. I may not get to see every person here, but I hear what goes on and from what I understand, I have a pretty perfect pack. So, I’m not sure what she’s struggling with.

We walked to the end of the ‘tour’ through the museum and my final surprise came into view.

Under the dim lights of a replica of the Mona Lisa, sat a well dress dining table for two. The white cloth draped to the floor. Candles were lit and two covered plates sat in front of two red velvet chairs.

At a velvet rope, a caterer from the museum food court stood handsomely awaiting our arrival.

“Bastian, you didn’t.” She looks at me with wide eyes.

“What’s a date without food?” I grin.

I escort her to the table. The caterer moves the rope and I sit her down. He removes the covers off the plates to reveal filet mignon, caviar, and baby carrots. A chilled bottle of the best red wine I could buy, sat in a ice bucket on a stand off to the side.

“This is amazing.” She breathes. “You didn’t have to do this. The museum was enough.”

“Yes, I did. All this art talk made me hungry.” I chuckle.

She laughs as she picks up her knife and fork. “Thank you for all this.” She tilts her head and I see sincerity in her eyes. I think I actually won her over. We’ll see.

I smile sweetly. “You’re welcome.”

“I have to be honest. I was nervous agreeing to this, but it seems I was wrong. I really liked this.” She says before putting a carrot in her mouth.

“If we’re being honest, I was nervous about doing it. I’m not used to this kind of thing. You actually made me try something new and I’m glad you enjoyed it.” I sip my wine then smile. “I’d like to do this again sometime.”

She glances at me I see that pink hue again. “We’ll see.” She locks with my eyes.

“Fair enough.” I grin and dig into the fantastic meal that topped off the best date I’ve ever had in my life.

I escorted her home and walked her to her door. “I had an amazing time tonight. I’m very glad you agreed to go out with me.”

“I had a wonderful time, too.” She whispers.

I wasn’t going to, but I had to. I leaned in and kissed her for the second time. I asked for entrance and when her lips parted, it was so much better than the first time. I felt her deeper than what I had before.

As I cup her soft cheek and my tongue twirls with hers, I really felt what I was I seeing in the museum. The energy inside her is truly a gift I’ve never gotten before.

I slowly break the kiss and lock with her eyes. “Good night.”

“Good night…Bastian.” She gives me a half smile and walks into the house.

I grin as I turn around and walk back to the limo.

Yep. This is definitely a great start. I’m in.