Brice Manor

6. The Portrait

As she stood outside the door of the room, Emily couldn't help but marvel at the portrait inside.

Lost in thought, she absentmindedly entered the room, drawn to the portrait like a moth to a flame. She approached it slowly, taking in every detail of the man's face. The young man was undeniably handsome, with chiseled features and piercing black eyes that seemed to stare right through the canvas. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with a strong jawline and a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

His hair was dark and artfully tousled, falling in loose waves around his face. He wore a white shirt that was unbuttoned at the collar, and a hint of a gold chain peeked out from beneath the fabric. He held a paintbrush in his hand as if he had been caught in the act of creating something beautiful.

The portrait itself was a masterpiece, capturing the young man in exquisite detail. He was surrounded by a garden of roses and lavender, the colors so vivid that they almost seemed to leap off the canvas. The garden was expansive, stretching out behind him in a riot of color and texture.

The landscape was breathtaking, with rolling hills and a distant mountain range visible in the background. The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, with fluffy white clouds that seemed to drift lazily across the canvas.

Emily pried her eyes away from the portrait. She swallowed the lump of saliva that pooled in her mouth. Her breath seemed to have been caught somewhere. She couldn't find it. It's as d the man in the portrait stole it from her. She was so entrance by the man in the portrait. She gazed at it again. Unable to fight the urge.

Despite the beauty of the garden, it was the young man who commanded attention in the portrait. His enigmatic expression seemed to hint at hidden depths as if secrets were lurking just below the surface. He was a study in contradictions, both approachable and elusive at the same time.

Emily swallowed again. She took a deep breath and released it fast almost coming out like a growl. The artist had captured the man's body perfectly, with just the right amount of shading and texture to make him look almost three-dimensional. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders and powerful arms that looked as if they were capable of great strength.

As she stood there, transfixed, she failed to notice the disarray of the room around her. Cobwebs clung to the corners, dust covering every surface. But the portrait remained untouched by time as if it had been painted only moments ago.

Emily reached out a hand, almost as if to touch the man's face. But then she hesitated, unsure of herself. Who was this man, and why did he hold such a powerful sway over her? She wondered. Could he be...

She stepped back, her gaze never leaving the portrait. It was as if the man himself had stepped out of the painting and was standing before her, a force to be reckoned with.

Could he be Pier Brice, Emily wondered. She hadn't seen a photo of him when she did her research.

For a moment, she was again lost in thought wondering what secrets the man in the portrait held, what mysteries lay hidden behind his stoic facade. But then she shook herself, realizing that she had been standing there for far too long.

She glanced around the room seemingly forcing herself to focus on something else, but her eyes still threw glances at the portrait.

***

Pier stood beside Emily, watching as she gazed at his portrait with a mixture of awe and admiration. He felt a sense of happiness and contentment as he watched her take in every detail of his painting.

The portrait depicted him as he had been in life, young and handsome, with a twinkle in his eye and a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He remembered how meticulously chose that shirt and how the gold chain around his neck gave him a rash the day after.