When the Wind Chimes
I let my eyes roam about his face, memorizing the details—my artist’s habit, or so I told myself. I wanted to run my fingers along his dark brooding eyebrows, down his perfect nose, curve around his high cheekbones, and caress those kissable lips. I had the urge to create a sculpture of this perfect Mr. Medici. This flawless being that looked and stood like a Greek god.
His impressive physique made me imagine him as Zeus, or perhaps Poseidon, who had walked straight out of a romantic fantasy novel, with a taste for mortal women.
I really needed to stop reading those books.
I took a step back, composing myself with the little dignity I had left. “Mr. Medici, how may I help you?”
He stood silent, just examining me. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he broke away.
“I think you did enough,” he said and pivoted sharply, his dress shoes tapping against the tile.
I shook my head in disbelief as I watched him strut out the door. I was the unicorn and he was the skeleton. He’d just eaten me alive, taken all my glitter power and magic with him. I didn’t know why I cared.
Oh, yes I do. He might be one of Abby’s biggest customers. This could cost her.
“Mr. Medici. Wait.” I burst out and sprinted after him.