Page 1 of Forbidden Bliss
Chapter 1
Tristan
Thegoldenlightofdawn filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing my minimalist penthouse in a desert glow. I stand motionless, transfixed by the fiery hues of orange and pink streaking across the Las Vegas skyline before me.
My towering older brother, Ethan, stands behind me. “You’ve always had an eye for the exquisite.”
His amber eyes study the massive landscape painting dominating the living room wall before he shifts to take in several more nature-inspired pieces displayed throughout the open concept room.
My siblings and their spouses never miss an opportunity to discuss my art investments. They claim it’s a frivolous use of money, but I view it as self-expression with a potential for profit. It’s a constant internal battle between pleasing my family and following my passion.
I step back from the window and view the paintings from his perspective. Rubbing the nape of my neck, I sigh. “Yeah, it’s becoming my niche.”
Ethan levels me with a knowing look. “More like an obsession. You’ve been outbidding everyone at the auctions, which makes no sense because you already own all the pieces. Isn’t the idea of an art auction to get them sold?”
He’s right, but I can’t imagine anyone else owning these. “No one else deserves them.”
“That one of the pregnant woman by the lake would have fetched you a million dollars, but you instead hung it in your bedroom, of all places.”
I face him. “Did you come here to discuss business, or are you just here to babysit me?”
He angles his head to the side. “I came here because I’m concerned about your wellbeing, and like I mentioned last night, I discovered some information about this artist you’ve been obsessed with.”
I rake a hand through my hair, happy to change the subject. “Yeah. You said they might be up in Northern Nevada?”
My brother nods. “Yep. In the mountains.” He flings a glance at another painting. “Like the ones covering every wall of your penthouse.”
My heartbeat thuds against my ribs. It’s the first time I’ve ever gotten a tip on the anonymous artist whose work I’ve been collecting for years. A flutter hits my belly as I lean in. “Which mountains?”
“Sierra Nevada. Up near a little town called Blushing Creek.”
As I grip the back of a dining chair and stare into a vibrant landscape painting, my jaw sets. I will find this elusive artist if it’s the last thing I do.
Later, I’m restless in bed as the paintings and the mysterious artist behind them consume every thought. Rubbing a hand down my face and pushing off the sheets, I rise and step out onto the balcony. The crisp midnight air hits me, and as I take in a deep breath and let the coolness fill my lungs, my mind wanders.
Who is this person and why have they chosen to stay anonymous?
I had invited the mystery painter to attend events, dinners, and auctions, but they’d always refused with no explanation.
It’s time. I’ve got to track down this artist.
After throwing a few items into a leather backpack, I make my way down to the lobby, ignoring the curious stares of the building staff.
They’re used to it by now—me disappearing from my penthouse at random hours of the day or night without a reason.
Setting the bag into the trunk, I slide into my Lamborghini and smooth my hands over the wheel.
By dawn, I’m speeding down the highway with the Vegas skyline disappearing behind me.
Do I know exactly why I’m desperate to find that painter?
No.
Will finding them make me feel any better?
I sure as hell hope so.
I have no idea why I’m so drawn to this artist and their work, but I must sort this out.