We've arrived at our shop about five hours before the exhibition, with intention to polish every single detail to perfection. We've cleaned the place the day before, but finishing decorating touches still needed to be done. Even if the store wasn't enormous, it was big enough to fit about fifteen people. My friends came early as promised, exactly three hours before the event started. Mark was a much-needed helping hand, since he took care of displaying the paintings. Artwork was arranged in a circular style on the largest wall of the store, framed with dark wood, adding it a slightly antique look. In the middle was presented a main theme connecting the artwork, captured in the form of a story, carved on a wooden board made from spruce. The whole place was decorated in a "misty night" theme. There were black synthetic cloths hanging from the walls and cascading to the ground, covered with seashells of various sizes. Dark chandelier - borrowed from our neighbor's attic, decorated with sparkling stars was a perfect addition to the motif. And at last, in the middle of the room stood circular tables, weakening under rich varieties of homemade biscuits and sweets.

From time to time I stole a few glances toward my friends as they diligently helped with decorations, jumping around at my mother’s nervous instructions. I mused when I noticed their stealing glances or how Mark always had a need to touch Lena, if he was away from her longer than two minutes.

And I realized now that no matter how different they were it didn't matter at all. Diversity in their characters completed them, like fitting pieces in a jigsaw puzzle. He acted like she was his center of the universe, like nothing else mattered when she was around. And I couldn't help myself as I felt a little stab of jealousy. Not that I needed a man to be with, it was this unconditional love they felt. And somewhere deep inside me, even though I denied it, I wanted to feel it too.

When Lena saw me staring, she winked and gave me the thumbs up.

After the first guests started seeping in, everything was organized and ready. I had to admit that I was dreadfully nervous. My hands were clammy, so I clasped them behind my back to keep them from shaking. I drew a few long, deep breaths to calm myself down.

My eyes followed their movements as they circled around the room, stopping at each painting. Quite a few of them asked me where I got the inspiration or who was I influenced by. When I had to repeat my speech for a tenth time, accompanied with a gentle music in the background, I was finally starting to relax a little.

My friends and parents were nearby, mainly entertaining the guests. After an hour the store was positively full and while some guests were genuinely interested in my art, some just came to check out what the fuss was about.

With oblivious tilt of my head – to check how others were fearing, I noticed a familiar figure. He walked slowly, effortlessly threading through the crowded room. He was polished as ever, but this time he was wearing an elegant gray blazer and blue jeans. His blond, almost ashen hair was brushed to the side in a messy way and his face was cleanly shaven. I noticed he wasn't alone this time. His companion was standing right beside him and I realized he was even taller, towering over the blonde guy. His futures were sharper, his expression even graver if that was possible. Somehow, even if they looked about the same age, the second man seemed much older. It must have been the way he carried himself – with grace and dignity. He was wearing a dark suit, his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. With his blazing, fiery red hair cut short, he was a picture of composition and sophistication. Even his walk reflected undeniable raw power and influence, undoubtedly fitted for a royalty. But what moved me the most, was the way he was staring at me. His brows drawn together as he studied me so intently, trying to figure me out. He appeared shocked by something for a moment as his blue eyes grew wider and he spoke rapidly to his friend.

For a second, I tried to figure out what they could be possibly talking about, but the nervous feeling inside of me forced me to step further away from them. Who were these men? Unsuccessfully I tried to convince myself they were just rich, bored tourists looking for entertainment. However, they piercing, almost interrogating glares were the cause I felt cold drops of sweat trickling down my spine. It was the second time now I spotted the first – blonde guy, was it solely a coincidence or something more?

Trying to focus on my speech I couldn’t help but notice how redheaded man's look followed me everywhere I went, making me uncomfortable and uneasy.

I was so distracted by them, flinching violently when I heard my mother’s voice from behind me. "Friends of yours?" She discreetly nodded in the direction of where the two strangers were standing.

"No, I don't even know them," I told her as I kept my eyes on both of them, carefully assessing their intentions.

"Well, they look awfully interested. Looks like you have new fans," she winked at me.

"Hardly. Not with that horn on my forehead," I touched my sore spot on my head, which was still horrifically colored. “Mom just stop looking at them!” I grabbed and pulled her hand to redirect her attention, but to no avail.

She followed my movements, gently tracing her cold fingers against my bruise "It will fade. Eventually," she nodded towards both men, musing. "Well, go talk to them, at least persuade them to buy something."

"Are you serious?" I looked at her with a slack-jawed expression. "I am not going to do that!" My eyes were flickering left and right, anxious feeling rising inside my chest.

"Then I am,” shrugging she assessed my horrified expression. “So what? It is called business Korina. And maybe a touch of fun in between," she smirked as she playfully moved her hips.

"What-? Oh, God. I have customers who need me!" I stuttered, pointing to the group of people, which seemed just fine without my assistance. Cursing, I turned back to her, but she was already on the move.

"Priorities daughter! Watch and learn," she winked over her shoulder, confidently moving over to talk to the blond man. I watch dumbfounded as she offered him her hand in greeting.

"Oh hell, no she didn't," I muttered to myself as I slowly dragged my feet toward them, moving as slowly as my legs allowed me.

Her melodic voice finally reached my ears and I reluctantly listened her speak. "My name is Ivana Varga. Gentlemen, I hope you’re enjoying our display?" My mother said smiling, passing them glasses of champagne.

"Daniel Ryce-” A husky, almost raspy voice of the blonde man stated, pointing to his companion. “-and this is my friend Maximillian Donatti. The event is quite spectacular, thank you," answered the blond man, kissing her hand, slightly tilting his head into a polite bow.

Mother literally blushed at his charming behavior and well manners, quickly turning toward the man called Maximilian. "I am glad to meet you both. My daughter was the one who painted them," she pointed at my collection. Simultaneously both men turned to stare at me.

"You must be the artist then. Korina Varga, if I am not mistaken?" The one called Daniel said with an unreadable expression on his face. I didn’t miss how over-polite his voice was, with just a speck of hostility under the surface.

I was hyper aware of the peculiarity of this situation, urging myself to stay equally professional. Stepping forward with all the courage I managed to muster, I shook both of their hands. They were intimidating to say at least.

"They are...Beautiful," The second man sighed; his voice laced with hidden pain.

I was confused, but nerveless relieved I could turn to the red-headed man standing next to Daniel. "Thank you, Sir," it was easier to look into his eyes, since they were somehow gentle, almost friendly.

"Can they already be purchased?" He proceeded to ask me and I couldn't help myself to angle closer to him. His presence was soothing me, easing the coldness inside me. I felt his calmness illuminating the room, providing me with a bizarre sense of safety and peace. All of the sudden the cold and dark feeling inside of me was almost bearable.

"No, but after today they can," I said, feeling cold again as he took a step back. Shame colored my cheeks as I jerked away from him, giving some space between us. Appalled by my foolhardy behavior, I shot him a nervous glance to assess his reaction.

But he didn't look repulsed, instead, he kept looking at me with a fixated stare.

Mother’s curious look traveled between us, settling back on him "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, I..." He started. "It is only that..." He moistened his lips, trying to compose himself.

I remained quiet, waiting for him to finish his sentence, looking at his confused, pained expression.

"It's astonishing, how much you resemble the person I used to know," he was talking to me, his fingers twitching, almost like he wished to touch me.

I itched to ask him who is that person was and what happened to them, but I was well aware it wasn't my place to ask.

"Sir," I said again, not knowing how to properly address him, as it seemed almost inappropriate to call him otherwise.

"Call me Maximillian, please," he said, his eyes slightly softening.

"Max," the blond man - Daniel, warned him, his voice stern and cold. He slowly shook his head. "Don’t. You know the deal."

What deal? I thought. Those men barely even knew me, what kind of deal were they talking about? This whole situation was ridiculous and downright bizarre. The red-headed man behaved like he somehow knew me and the blond one was acting hostile. I shuddered when our eyes met, his profound animosity cutting right through me. Man’s golden irises were full of venom and resentment, his chiseled jaw clenched painfully tight.