The price of her heart

Avery Monroe adjusted the painting on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time. The art gallery was quiet, and the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above seemed to echo in her ears. Her stomach churned with nerves, but she forced herself to smile and look confident. This was her big break. The night she had worked for-the night she had dreamed about for years.

But as she glanced around the gallery, she noticed that no one was stopping to look at her work. People wandered past, heads down, eyes flicking over the paintings as if they were nothing more than background noise. Avery couldn't help but feel invisible.

She had come all the way from a small town with big dreams. She had spent years learning, working, saving, and fighting for this moment. And yet, it seemed like all the effort hadn't amounted to much.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, pulling her out of her thoughts. She didn't need to check it. It was probably her mother, worried about her health, or her younger sister, Becky, asking for money again. Avery sighed, stuffing the phone back into her bag.

"Impressive."

The voice came out of nowhere, and Avery nearly jumped. She spun around, wide-eyed, and came face to face with a man who had entered the gallery unnoticed. He was tall-almost too tall-dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. His sharp features seemed like they were carved from stone, and his icy blue eyes studied her with an intensity that made her feel exposed.

"I beg your pardon?" Avery asked, blinking in surprise.

The man took a step forward, his gaze never leaving hers. "The painting," he clarified, his voice smooth like velvet. "It's impressive."

Avery felt her cheeks flush. No one had ever looked at her work like that before. She wasn't sure whether to feel proud or intimidated.

"Thank you," she said softly, trying not to let her nervousness show. She wasn't used to attention, especially from someone who looked like he belonged in a different world.

He stepped closer, his eyes lingering on her as he studied the piece. "What's the story behind this one?"

Avery's heart raced a little as she explained the piece. It was a landscape, full of vibrant colors, depicting the mountain range from her childhood home. She had poured every ounce of emotion into it. It represented hope, struggle, and the search for freedom.

The man nodded thoughtfully. "I can see the emotion in it. You've captured something raw, real." He paused and looked at her with a glint of interest. "You're talented, Ms. Monroe."

She swallowed hard. "Thank you." She felt awkward under his gaze. "You're... Julian Hartley, aren't you?"

His lips curved into a half-smile. "Yes. And you are?"

"Avery Monroe," she replied, her voice trembling slightly.

He extended his hand, his grip firm but not overpowering. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Avery."

She shook his hand, still unsure why he was here or why he was speaking to her. This man was a billionaire, one of the most influential people in the city. She had read about him in the newspapers, seen him at charity events, but never imagined she'd meet him like this-standing in front of one of her own paintings.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked, trying to act normal despite the nerves flooding her.

Julian waved her off. "I don't need anything. But I do need something from you."

Avery's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

He took a step back, his eyes scanning the gallery, his face unreadable. "You have potential. A lot of it. But you're stuck in this small world. You can't get anywhere with your art if you keep playing by the rules."

Avery blinked. "I'm not sure I understand."

Julian turned to her, his gaze intense. "I'm offering you a deal. A chance for your work to be seen by the right people. Not just any people-people who can change your life."

Avery's pulse quickened, but she kept her composure. "I'm not sure I can accept a deal without understanding it fully."

His lips quirked into a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "It's simple. I have connections-people who would pay top dollar for your work. You won't be unknown anymore. I'll make sure of that."

She didn't know how to respond. This felt like a dream, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a catch. Nothing in life came free.

"What do you want in return?" she asked, her voice cautious.

Julian studied her for a long moment before speaking. "I want you to be my personal artist. You'll paint for me, whenever I need something, and you'll agree to keep our dealings private."

Avery's heart skipped a beat. "Private?"

He nodded. "I don't like attention. The less people know about our business, the better."

Avery wasn't sure what to make of that. But something about him-his confidence, the way he carried himself-made her want to take the risk.

"Is there more?" she asked, trying to read him.

"There's always a price," he said simply. "But you'll get everything you want in return. Money. Recognition. The best galleries. And... me."

Avery's breath caught. "You?"

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Everything I offer comes at a cost. If you accept, you'll owe me. Your time. Your heart. Your loyalty. But in exchange, I'll make sure you're the artist you've always wanted to be."

Her heart was racing now, but her mind was swirling. She was being offered everything she had ever dreamed of, but it came with strings attached.

"What's the catch?" she asked again, her voice barely a whisper.

Julian's eyes darkened. "I'm offering you a chance to have everything you've ever wanted. But you'll give me something in return. Your loyalty, your trust, and yes-your heart."

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