"Please be careful with that."
I reminded the men carrying the paintings towards the hotel. Over ten paintings were carried from the truck. Some can be handheld and life—size and some are as big as walls.
"You really need to take a chill pill, Hailynn." Amy popped out beside me, arms crossed, face held in amusement.
After telling her that I decided to finally sell my paintings, she immediately went to support me. I am so grateful that she's here. I'm not sure if I can do it alone.
"Can't. You know how much I value those paintings." I felt a tinge of regret but I know this will help those who are in need.
She smiled at me softly. "Then you better detach yourself with those artworks. Tonight you're not gonna be officially the owner."
"Is it bad that I'm hoping nobody's going to buy it and at the same time hoping that every painting will be sold?"
"It's not, Hailynn. What you're feeling is completely normal. I mean those paintings held your memories with Ethan." She placed her hands on my shoulders in a comforting way. "Remember this auction will help the orphans. This has been your and Ethan's dream to sell your works to help kids with no families." I nodded as she smiled at me warmly.
Tonight the elites will gather for a charity event. My paintings are the highlight of the night. Money will be donated to charity especially to the orphanages. I'm planning to give twenty—five percent of it to where Ethan and I grew up.
The night finally came and it was spent with succulent food, expensive wine and drinks, random chatters and boisterous laughter. Everyone was dressed in their most gorgeous gowns and expensive suits. I could not help but feel nervous with the idea that the paintings will no longer be in my care. Paintings that hold our memories together.
Surprisingly, the auction was beyond successful. The paintings were sold. All of them. I doubt that they understood or appreciated it. Let's be real. Those old geezers and young millionaires only show off their money. Based on my experience, wealthy collectors who truly appreciate works of art are rare. Either way, the children and the poor will be benefited from their arrogance.
My apprehension though made me leave one painting behind. The painting which Ethan and I created. We literally made this together and it was only recently before three months ago. I broke a promise to myself and perhaps with my longtime friend too. I simply could not sell it. I want to at least keep one memory of him with me. Well, except for the unfinished erotica book that he left.
I sighed heavily before opening the doorknob to the temporary room where I store the painting. I need to ask someone to transfer this back to my apartment.
The air was stuck in my throat as soon as I entered the room.
I froze when a man in all black suit pointed a gun towards another man.
I stole their attention when they heard me coming in. The man who was holding a gun had a scowl on his face. He glared at my sudden intrusion that had made me nervous and scared. The other guy was somewhat relieved at their unexpected distraction. I noticed a blood smudged just below his lower lip.
As soon as my eyes shifted back to the man holding the gun. My eyes widened when another gun was pointed at me while the other was still glinting against his first victim. My heart quickened its beat. It became louder every jump of a second. My hands automatically raise in surrender. I could feel the other man's eyes shifting back and forth between me and the man holding the gun.
"Come here, ragazza." He said in his thick Italian accent. Okay, the man is obviously Italian.
I couldn't move though. I was still frozen in my spot. I was literally panicking and my loud heartbeat is boosting my fear with the Italian dude.
"Don't make me repeat." He growled. It was deep and guttural.
As soon as my foot moved to take a step, the other man lunged at him. From the Italian man's reaction, he expected him to move. I stopped myself and in a quick second, I turned around to reach for the doorknob for escape. The loud bang of a gun made me jump in fear. My eyes were completely wide when I saw the dent and splinters that newly decorated the door. I nervously turned around. The two men were fighting, fists flying on their faces and body.
"Don't even think about it." Mr. Italian snarled at me after kicking the man and making him fall right over my painting.
I stiffened.
Shit. No. Oh my god. No.
I know I'm completely and undeniably scared right now... yet I can't help but feel infuriated at the sight of my painting ripped apart. The masterpiece was unrecognizable. I stood agape at what happened. My jaw falling on the floor, unable to return to its original place.
He wiped the little blood that dripped on the corner of his lower lip as he sauntered towards his enemy who was having a hard time getting up.
"What did you do to my painting?!" I screeched. I walked towards him with hurried steps, forgetting about the fact that he was holding a gun and he could shoot me in a second.
He stopped walking and turned his attention to me. His face was blank and extremely scary. I gulped a lump forming in my throat.
He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. He began to open his mouth to say something but the man lunged at him again making both of them fall down to the ground. I gasped at the sudden action. I couldn't see them wrestling behind the sofa.
I jumped again for the umpteenth time tonight as a loud bang echoed in the four corners of the room. Tears started pooling in my eyes as the thought of death crossing my mind.
Holy shit.
Oh my god.
I slowly walked and peeked behind the sofa. I saw how he roughly pushed away the man hovering him without a struggle. Blood pooled over his torso scattering to the floor. Our eyes met for a second before he got up and stood at his full height. I then noticed how short I am compared to his six foot something.
I step back every step forward he makes.
The sound of the door opening made me jumped in surprise. My head turned swiftly at the unexpected guest but didn't get the chance.
A white handkerchief suddenly covered my nose and mouth.
