Love in Colour Read online

  Love in Colour

  JA Low

  Copyright © 2018 by JA Low

  Copyright @ 2018 JA Low

  All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this eBook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this eBook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Cover: Hang Le http://www.byhangle.com

  Editor by Editor in Heels http://editorinheels.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  1. Emily

  2. Louis

  3. Emily

  4. Emily

  5. Louis

  6. Emily

  7. Louis

  8. Emily

  9. Louis

  10. Emily

  11. Emily

  12. Louis

  13. Emily

  14. Louis

  15. Emily

  16. Louis

  17. Emily

  18. Louis

  19. Emily

  20. Louis

  21. Emily

  22. Louis

  23. Emily

  24. Louis

  25. Emily

  26. Louis

  27. Louis

  28. Emily

  29. Louis

  30. Emily

  31. Louis

  32. Emily

  33. Louis

  34. Emily

  35. Louis

  36. Emily

  37. Emily

  38. Louis

  39. Louis

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Come follow her ….

  The Dirty Texas Series

  The Bratva Jewels Series

  Fate’s Plan

  Foreword

  This book is written in British English.

  Life isn’t always rainbows.

  1

  Emily

  “You look beautiful tonight.” Toby gives me a heart-warming smile as he takes my hand, helping me out of the taxi. He’s looking rather handsome too, dressed in a navy suit, his blond hair slicked back. Toby and I have been dating for five years. We met the last year of university. He was doing an international business degree and I was finishing an art history degree. Toby’s now a business analyst for an international finance company. He’s been putting in long hours at the office as well as traveling heaps to New York. I’m so proud of him.

  I wish I was doing something with my degree like he is. Instead it’s sitting at home gathering dust. I thought at this point in my life that I would be working at the Tate Modern or one of the Serpentine Galleries or even in my wildest dreams the Louvre in Paris. Instead, I’m working in the gift shop at Madam Tussauds selling tourists crap. I haven’t had the best luck with jobs. I’ve bounced around from one horrendous job to another. Who knew there would be so many people with art degrees trying to get a job? I can’t even get unpaid work with a gallery. Luckily I have Toby, he encourages me every day to never give up on my dreams and that one day I too will be living mine, just like he is.

  Toby places a hand at the small of my back as we enter the restaurant. It’s some fancy restaurant in the city that he likes to go to for client lunches. I know I can’t afford anything on the menu. The restaurant is dark, you can hardly see one foot in front of the other, but I follow the hostess who looks like she is walking a catwalk to our table. We both take our seats and take the menus she is offering us. I look around taking in the opulence of it all.

  “A bottle of champagne, please,” Toby orders. The hostess nods and rushes away. My heart starts to quicken. Fancy restaurant. Check. Champagne. Check. Five years of dating. Check. Four years of living together. Check. This is it. Tonight is the night. The night that Toby pops the question.

  “Are we celebrating something?” I smile at him. He seems nervous, jumpy even. A tiny little bit of sweat settles across his upper lip. I take another look around the restaurant. It’s not exactly where I imagined being proposed to. I was hoping for something more extravagant, like on the steps of the Met in New York or outside the Venus de Milo in the Louvre. I’ve been leaving hints for Toby about engagement rings for the past year, I hope that he knows that I would love an antique ring, one that has a beautiful story attached to it or I’d love even more one of his family’s heirlooms. I do not need a new ring. It doesn’t even have to be a plain white diamond; I’ll take a pink or a canary or even a sapphire; I’m not so traditional in that sense.

  “Actually yes, we are celebrating something.” Toby can’t look at me. He scans the room, impatiently willing the hostess to return with the champagne. I wonder if the ring is in the bottom of the glass like they do in the movies. Remember Emily, do not skull back the entire contents; you don’t want to choke on a two carat engagement ring.

  “Oh how exciting. What is it?” I talk more when I get nervous. I can’t help it.

  “Wait until the bottle comes,” Toby tells me. This is it. He has a plan and I just have to be patient. He has probably been organising this night for months and I don’t want to ruin it by being too eager. I smile and wait, while the butterflies flit around my stomach. Toby is such a catch, that’s what people tell me. He comes from an extremely wealthy family, they might even be related to royalty or something like that, very blue blooded with country estates and posh accents. Whereas I came from a hard-working, middle class family; I got into university via scholarship. I’m pretty sure Toby’s family have a wing of the university named after them. Even though we come from two totally different worlds, we fell in love. I’m not one of those girls impressed by money. I hate that Toby pretty much buys everything, because let’s face it my meagre wage is not paying for first class trips to Majorca like we did last summer. He knows it makes me feel uncomfortable, but he just smiles and tells me that he’s lucky because he has a very large trust fund and why wouldn’t he want to spoil the woman that he loves. I can’t argue with that.

  The hostess comes back with the expensive bottle of champagne. She pops it and pours us each a glass, then places the bottle back into the champagne stand beside us before rushing away again. Toby holds up his glass.

  “To the future.” Then he clinks his glass against mine. My heart does a double beat. I take a sip, the bubbles tickle my nose and the smooth liquid warms my belly. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something, Emily.” I try and calm myself down. I need to be surprised when he asks me to marry him. “You know how I have been working on projects with our New York office.” I nod, he’s been flying back and forth frequently for meetings for the past six months. “Well, they have asked me to take over the New York team for a two-year contract.” Oh my God, we’re moving to New York, yes, yes, yes. This is the fresh start that I need.

  “Oh, Toby, this is an amazing opportunity. You deserve it so much. I’m so proud of you, baby. You’ve work so hard.” Giddy excitement fills me. “There are so many amazing galleries in New York. I bet I can easily find work there.” Toby stiffens, placing his champagne glass down
on the table. He looks serious.

  “Actually, Ems…” There’s an awkward long pause. “I was thinking of going alone.” I just stare at him, my lashes blinking slowly, my brain trying to compute what his words mean. Alone? As in one person. As in just him?

  “Oh. Okay. It’s a work thing…I understand.” I try to hide my disappointment. “Long distance is going to be hard.” I can’t afford to fly back and forth between London and New York for the next two years. So I have no idea how this is going to work. There’s another long pause.

  “I don’t want to do a long distance relationship, Emily.” Again I just stare at him, my brain not really computing the words he is speaking to me.

  “You don’t want me to come to New York but you also don’t want to do a long distance relationship.” Toby nods. “I don’t understand what you…” Then it hits me. “You’re breaking up with me?” The question comes out louder than I anticipated, people on the next table turn and look at us.

  “I’m not breaking up with you, just asking for a break.” What the hell? My jaw hits the floor.

  “I thought you were going to propose to me.” My voice squeaks. A single tear falls down my cheek. No. I don’t want to cry. Toby hates emotional women. I hear someone tsk behind me.

  “Emily, I’m sorry.” Toby grabs my hands and holds them with his own. “But honestly, babe, you can’t be surprised.” I didn’t think I could be any more stunned than I am at this moment.

  “Excuse me?” I pull my hands away from his.

  “Ems. You’ve done nothing with your life. You flit around from menial job to menial job, which was cute for a couple of years but we’re getting older now. I want to be proud of the woman I marry.” His words are like a knife to the heart, slicing it in two. I have never felt so worthless than I do right now. “I think it’s best that we have some time apart, you sort yourself out. You can stay in my apartment while I’m gone. I’m not an asshole. When I come back and you are in a better position with your life…I can propose then.” I stare at him dumbfounded. Does he actually think what he is saying is okay?

  “So what you’re saying is…you want to see other people while you are in New York?” His cheeks turn red; he looks away flustered. My stomach sinks with realisation. “Oh.” Well this is awkward. “What you’re really saying is you’ve met someone in New York.” There is a long pause before he sticks the knife in further.

  “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Ems.” My body is shaking with humiliation and anger. My hand is itching to pick the champagne glass up and throw it in his face.

  “How long?” I don’t really want an answer but I know I need to know how long he has been deceiving me. He lets out a heavy sigh.

  “Six months.” My eyes widen.

  “Six months!” My voice rises. Toby frowns at me; he looks around quickly to make sure no one is noticing our disagreement. This angers me more; he is worried about what strangers think about him more than his own girlfriend. I lower my voice, because I don’t want to look hysterical. “I wish I knew we could have screwed other people while we were dating, because maybe then I might have found someone who actually knows how to make me come instead of having to resort to my vibrator to get off every single time.” It’s a low blow but the truth. Toby only ever cared about his needs. His face pales.

  “Emily, there is no need to act like this, we are both adults.” My fist wants to show him how much of an adult I think he is.

  “You are a weak piece of shit,” I seethe between clenched teeth. “I can’t believe I wasted five years with you. Five years!” I’m angry at myself for falling for the fairy tale. “I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you, Toby. And when you realise it after the novelty of shagging some American Barbie has worn off, I’m going to be so far gone.” I wag my finger in his face. “You’re going to regret this day,” I tell him, as if putting a hex on him.

  “You were always dramatic, Emily.” He rolls his eyes at me, a look of boredom falls across his face. “I thought we could have an adult discussion about this,” he hisses.

  “You’re breaking my heart, Toby.” I look at him in exacerbation. “You have been cheating on me with someone else for six months.” Hold in the tears Emily. Hold them in. This bastard does not deserve them. I fail miserably, stupid tear ducts.

  “You know who I am, Emily. You know my family,” he whisper yells at me. “I have a legacy to uphold.” My chest begins to tighten as I try and starve off a panic attack. He reaches out and touches my hand. “When I come back, Emily. You and I can be together.” Is he bloody serious? “You are marriage material but only when you have a proper job.” The condescending prick.

  “I pity your American girlfriend, I bet she thinks she’s struck it rich with some posh English guy. I wonder if she knows she’s not marriage material.” I pull my hand from his. Toby gives me another frustrated look.

  “My family would never allow me to marry an American.” I’ve had enough, picking up my napkin I throw it at him.

  “We are done. I hope your new girlfriend has a powerful vibrator, she’s going to need one.” And with that last barb I walk out of that restaurant with my head held high. As soon as I am outside I burst into tears.

  “That lying sack of shit,” Rosie yells, grabbing a bottle of wine from her fridge.

  “I would have thrown the glass of champagne in his face,” Ava adds.

  “He actually thought you would take him back after he fucked some American bimbo?” Georgia states. I love my girls and when they got my SOS as I cried out the front of the restaurant they launched into Operation Save Emily, calling me an Uber and making sure Rosie’s apartment was stocked with lots of wine and chocolate.

  “Five years I wasted on that man.” I throw back the third glass of wine.

  “I can’t believe he’s been cheating. No offence, Em, but seriously the man is a bore,” Rosie tells me. This makes me giggle. “He has the personality of an ironing board.”

  “It’s the accent, that’s all,” Ava adds. “Americans love the British accent.”

  “She’s probably some boring accountant or something,” Georgia muses.

  “What am I going to do?” The tears fall down my face. “Toby’s right, I’ve done nothing with my degree. I work bullshit jobs. I’m not at all where I thought I saw myself when I graduated university.” The girls all rally around me.

  “Sweetheart, you are the best human in the world. So what you don’t have your dream job, yet. That’s okay, we now make a plan to find you your dream job. Between us all I’m sure we can find you something,” Rosie consoles me.

  “Let’s have a look what’s around. See if there is anything you would like to do.” Ava waves her phone at me. I nod my head.

  “Look at this one,” Georgia calls out. We spent the past hour searching the local ads. “Artist seeks assistant for the summer to get ready for exhibition. All food and board will be covered as well as a generous wage. Needs to be able to deal with unpredictable hours, travel, can speak French, has great organisation and administration skills and loves art. The job will be based in the South of France. Serious applications need only apply.”

  “That sounds fantastic,” Rosie squeals.

  “The South of France for the summer, Emmy. This is exactly what you need. Spending your days sunning yourself with some hot French artist who is going to want to paint you because you are his muse, and have hot, dirty sex with you under the stars.” Everyone goes quite at Ava’s comments, and then we all burst out laughing. “What? A girl can dream, can’t she?” She smiles. Ava, always the romantic.

  “The job says only serious applications need apply. I don’t think I am going to be sunning myself in paradise with some French God.” A girl could dream though.

  “Well lucky you're serious. It would look fantastic on your resume and who knows what it could lead to,” Georgia tells me.

  “Fine. Why not. Not like I will get the job or anything.” The girls all scream with delight as they
make the best resume in the history of resumes. Well as good as it’s going to get when we have gone through one too many bottles of wine.

  “One awesome resume down,” Rosie states.

  “Next. We need to move you out of that shithole apartment,” Georgia adds.

  I don’t know where I would be without my girls.

  2

  Louis

  I can’t believe I’ve sold all my paintings. New York has been one of my most successful trips this year. My popularity is growing every day, I never imagined I would be here living my dream and that people who live half way across the world want my paintings. As much as I have loved being away, I can’t wait to see Elisabeth again; to hold her in my arms, kiss her, fuck her. It’s been a long week apart.

  I drop my keys in the bowl beside the front door. The house is quiet. It’s early evening but the summer sun is still out. She must be down in one of the studios working; the light is amazing at this time of night.

  A couple of years ago we built artist studios down the back of our property. We lease them for free to artists as part of the mentor program that Elisabeth set up. Helping the next generation succeed in this competitive industry. We have successfully launched the careers of some truly magnificent young artists over the years. It is something I am very proud of. There are so many talented kids out there and no one to help them succeed and I just want to pay it forward like my mentor did for me. I make my way closer to where one of the studios is located, light streams from under the door and music blares from inside. Yves, my brightest artist, needs it loud when he paints. The aggressive beats are reflected in his art, the tortured soul that simmers right under the surface. He’s had a rough childhood and art seems to be the only way he can get his anger out otherwise he explodes. That emotion has enabled him to produce spectacular works of art that are selling quicker than he can produce them. He’s becoming the new ‘it’ boy of the art circuit.