Mr. Kavanagh
1220 Words
Chapter 4
Mr. Kavanagh
(Lia’s POV)
Angry blue eyes.
They pinned me with such ferocity that I instinctively took a step back, my breath hitching in my throat.
Dear God, that look could kill.
I had seen grown men crumble under that stare. I watched them shatter in an instant. I’d seen him do much worse than break someone with a glare… No. I couldn’t think about any of that now. Not now.
But it went there anyway, dragging me back to the memories I’d tried so hard to bury deep in my mind.
My chest tightened and it felt like I couldn’t breathe, the longer I looked at him. The room blurred as I stared at those eyes. Those piercing, stormy blue eyes, they had haunted me everyday for the past three years. They were burned into my mind… my soul, a cruel reminder of the past. And no amount of painting them would every erase them from it.
But now that I had found some semblance of normality in this life, he was back. Now when I had finally decided to end my addiction to those eyes, to finally cut the fragile thread tethering me to the past, the past is standing in front of me.
How was this possible?
He couldn’t be here. There was no reason for him to be here.
“Lia?”
Savannah’s voice broke through the storm in my mind.
I blinked and looked over at her, my heart pounding hard in my chest.
Savannah looked concerned.
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked, my voice quiet.
She hesitated for a moment, her worry evident, but then continued. “I was just explaining that Mr. Kavanagh here loved your paintings. He purchased the entire collection. His favorite, though…” She paused, “Was the one you were most desperate to sell.”
Her words hung in the air, and it took a moment for them to fully register.
He had bought all my paintings.
All of them.
My breath hitched. Oh my god… that painting.
He had seen that painting. He would have known those eyes… they were his eyes.
He knew.
I saw it on his face the moment I turned to look at him.
My cheeks flushed hot, a rush of embarrassment washing over me, just like it had so many times before in front of this man. It was like nothing had changed, like the last three years had disappeared, and I was still that foolish, starry-eyed girl making a fool of herself in his presence.
But things had changed.
I wasn’t that naive girl anymore. I no longer thought myself in love with my so-called savior. Now, I was just a woman desperately trying to let go of a memory that refused to loosen its grip on me.
And yet, here I was, standing in front of him again, feeling the same rush of emotions, I thought I had buried.
I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with regret.
I should have burned that goddamn painting.
I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“Oh…” I trailed off, my voice barely audible. “Okay.”
I had struggled to speak around him before, back when I was that foolish girl who couldn’t hide how he made me feel. But now? Now I was completely and utterly dumfounded.
The silence stretched between us, and I hated how powerless I felt in his presence. Three years apart, and he still had this effect on me. It was infuriating, humiliating even, but I couldn’t seem to shake it.
Dear God, the years had been kind to him. Too kind.
He looked even better than I remembered. He was a Greek god come to life—more built, more chiseled, more impossibly breathtaking than before. And seeing him like this shattered me all over again, breaking apart the fragile pieces of my heart I’d just barely managed to glue back together.
“I have to… go…” I whispered, my voice trembling as I turned away, desperate to escape before the cracks showed.
But then, his voice cut through the air, low and smooth, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Is that how you greet an old friend, Cordelia?” Aiden said, finally breaking the silence.
The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine.
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay calm, to not let him see just how deeply his presence still affected me. But it was no use. He had always seen right through me.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself before turning back to face him. I couldn’t let him see the cracks in my composure, not after everything. Not now.
“Mr. Kavanagh, I do not believe we are acquainted,” I said, forcing as much strength into my voice as I could muster.
Aiden smirked, that infuriatingly confident expression I had once thought charming. He ignored my comment entirely, his emerald eyes glinting.
“You’ve become quite talented over the years,” he said casually. “I especially loved the painting you named Cerulean Storm. It really captured the intensity, the raw emotion. But tell me…” His gaze locked onto mine, unrelenting. “Who’s eyes, are they?”
“No one in particular. I appreciate your support for my art, Mr. Kavanagh,” I replied, my voice firmer this time, though my pulse still raced. “But I cannot sell you my paintings. I believe Miss Cooper can process a refund for you.”
He tilted his head, his smirk widening as if he found my response amusing. “I don’t want a refund.” He stepped closer, and I fought the urge to back away. “And it’s Aiden, Cordelia. I don’t believe you’ve forgotten the name you spent years obsessing over.”
His words hit like a slap, sharp and unforgiving, and I felt my cheeks burn.
I clenched my fists, desperate to hold on to the composure I was rapidly losing.
This was why I’d left, why I had tried so hard to forget him.
And yet, here he was, undoing all my hard work with a single smirk.
“This is a professional setting, Mr. Kavanagh, and I do not have a personal relationship with you. I’d prefer we keep it that way,” I said, my tone as icy as I could make it despite the heat rising in my chest.
“Savannah,” I called, turning to my friend, “would you please cancel the transaction with Mr. Kavanagh?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Aiden replied simply, his voice calm yet filled with an undertone of warning.
I opened my mouth to respond, but Savannah, the traitor, spoke first. “I… um… I’ll be right back,” she stammered before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving me stranded.
I watched her go, disbelief and annoyance mingling in my chest, before turning to make my own escape. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t be around him.
“We need to talk, Cordelia,” Aiden said, his voice stopping me mid-step.
“I don’t believe we do,” I replied coolly over my shoulder, refusing to look at him.
“Yes we do-
“No”
- Writer
