A Game For Your Love (BWLM) (REWRITE)

ii. From Whence She Came

༺✧ ♛ ✧༻

Awuor wasn't exactly taken aback by Sandro's sudden change in demeanor, but she was surprised by the lengths he had gone to usurp her. It was a coincidence, surely, that of all the people in the world, he was the one who owned the damn painting.

Of the very few things they had in common, art wasn't one of them. That's why she hadn't expected any of this tonight. She had come to the auction house to take the painting home, not to run into her ex-boyfriend. The likelihood of finding Sandro at an art gala was exactly that of sitting next to a fish on a plane. 

She gritted her teeth, plastered a docile smile on her face, and summoned all the calm she could. The auctioneer had just revealed the painting's provenance, confirming that the mysterious and skittish owner of the work was none other than Alessandro Heliodor. She had been so close to getting her hands on it tonight, but now it seemed like her chances had evaporated. 

As she stared at the attendants, too busy wrapping the other bought art pieces, Awuor couldn't help but consider stealing the damn thing from the auction house's storage. 

It would be a risky move, she sighed.

If the painting suddenly went missing, she'd be the only suspect. After all, she had gotten into a heated bidding war over it with Sandro himself. Desperation was clouding her judgment, and she was willing to take risks to get what she wanted. But she couldn't let her emotions get the best of her, not when there was so much at stake. The painting, Sandro's painting, was crucial to her plans. She couldn't risk being caught, not when she was so close to achieving her goal.

As she considered her options, Sandro's mocking voice cut through her thoughts. "You like that painting, baby?" he asked, his tone dripping with malice.

He leaned against the wall, a sight to behold, and confident as ever with a smug look on his strikingly handsome face. It had been years since they last saw each other, not since their tumultuous breakup. Awuor took a deep breath and walked towards him, trying to keep her emotions in check. The anger in his blue jade eyes was palpable, and she knew that he was still holding a grudge. She couldn't blame him.

Instead of snapping back at him, she calmly replied, "So what now, Alex?" Her voice low and measured. "Hmmm?" she sighed softly "I crawl on my knees and you hand it over?" 

She was trying to keep the conversation civil despite the tension between them, but Sandro's smug expression faltered for a moment, and Awuor could see the surprise in his eyes. She knew that he had expected her to be angry or emotional. But as he stepped closer to her, his eyes narrowed, and the tension returned.

Sandro stared at her for a long moment, plunging them into an awkward silence. She refused to back down, she had come too far to let Sandro's anger best her. Despite the fact that she was clearly here to discuss his surrender of the artwork to her, he didn't seem to want to. But Awuor didn't flinch under the weight of his stare.

His lips, soft and pink, odd against the sharp planes of his jawline and cheekbones, twisted in anger as he scoffed, "You think crawling back to me, crying and begging will work?" 

It almost made her blood boil, hi tone. 

He was trying to hurt her, to get revenge for the messy and hurtful way she'd ended things. She didn't think they'd ever cross paths again, that he would seek her out lie this. She knew that she had hurt him deeply. Part of her even wished she could let him have this revenge, but the painting was too important. 

"I know I messed up," she said, a tight smile on her lips "But this painting has nothing to do with that."

She had simply been trying to protect herself, to keep her secrets safe. But Sandro wasn't letting her off the hook so easily. His gaze was unwavering as he looked at Awuor, his expression unreadable. 

"Messed up?!" Sandro growled at her words, his voice shaking with rage. "You offer me a divorce deal..." He struggled to breathe "You left me, remember?" the bitterness in his tone poked at her insides

If she'd known how important this painting would be... If she'd known that he owned it... maybe things would've been different. Maybe she would've grabbed it before she left and avoided this all together, But it was too late for hindsight now. 

"Dai tesoro..." He smirked darkly "you bid for this painting five times. I was starting to think you really wanted it." he spat, his voice laced with venom

It was all inevitable, she sighs, trying to find a way to appeal to his better nature.  No matter how she looked at it she was destined to leave him and he to hate her for it. This is always who they were meant to be to each other.

"Look, I'll make it worth your while," she sighed into his unwavering gaze "I'll give you double the price of the painting," she offered. "Just let me have it, and we can put the past behind us."

She tried to sound calm, rational, not like she was begging or resigned to their fate, but instead of agreeing, Sandro stood from the wall and pinched her chin, forcing their gazes to lock onto each other. She could feel the anger radiating off of him.

Sandro's lips twisted into a smirk as he considered her offer. "You think money can make up for what you did to me?" he sneered,

No, I think we never should've met in the first place. 

"Macché? You're always so quick to jump to conclusions, princess." he growled "So why can't you conclude that I'll never sell it to you? Hmm?" his voice was low and dangerous as his grip on her chin tightened.

Awuor refused to let him intimidate her. She tried to pull away from his grasp, but he held her firmly in place. 

Sandro condescendingly shook his head. "You don't get it, do you?" He hissed, "I don't want to put this behind us. I want you to pay for what you did to me."

So he agreed with her; they should never have met.

Awuor nodded as meekly as she could. Was it really a coincidence, Sandro Heliodor being the owner of the final piece of the puzzle? Her final obstacle? Did he know why she needed the painting so badly? Was fate truly this cruel?

"I need that painting, Alex," she said, her voice shaking with emotion. "Please help me. I'll do anything."

But Sandro was not in the mood for negotiations. He grabbed Awuor by the shoulders and pulled her close, his lips crashing down on hers with a ferocity she had never experienced before. Awuor tried to push him away, to resist his advances, but he was too strong for her. For a moment, she forgot everything else. She forgot the possibility of an audience around them, forgot the painting she had come to retrieve, forgot the pain she had caused Sandro. All she could think about was the way his lips felt against hers, the way his hands roamed over her body, the way he made her feel alive. His lips on hers were something between a fervent prayer and a divine curse. 

But just as quickly as it had started, it was over. Sandro pulled away from her, his eyes dark with desire and anger. 

"I don't want your money, princess." he said, voice cold, distant, affected. 

Awuor felt a lump form in her throat as he turned to leave, a wave of desperation washing over her. 

"Look, Alex, I don't have time for this," she said, her voice firm. "I need that painting and I need it now. Either you give it to me, or I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

"Do your worst, sweetie." He hissed, pulling his hand away from her grip with a bedeviling ease, voice dripping with disgust

"You wouldn't survive my worst, honey." Awuor purred through a tight smile