Chapter 2. Art Demands Sacrifice
“Eugenia, enough with the sulking already,” Mark Borisovich said to his daughter. “I’ve apologized to you more than once. I admit I was wrong to approach another agency behind your back, but that was ages ago.”
“Dad, I’m not upset about that. In fact, I’m grateful. That whole situation pushed me to start my own event agency,” Eugenia replied. Her father mistook her sour mood for lingering resentment toward him, but her thoughts were elsewhere—on her bodyguard, Alex, who had asked for a few days off and left someone else in his place.
“I’m so proud of you,” Mark said, stepping closer to embrace his daughter and plant a kiss on the top of her head. “Look at you, all grown up and so smart.”
“Dad, what’s going on with Alex? He asked for a few days off,” Eugenia inquired, hoping her father might know more since she hadn’t asked Alex directly about his reasons for leaving.
“He told me he had some urgent personal matters to attend to. Why? Is the new bodyguard not up to par?” Mark asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
“No, it’s fine. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay with Alex. Maybe he needs help,” Eugenia said, not entirely truthful. Her mind drifted to their last heated exchange, the first time she’d ever seen Alex lose his cool. Alex, who was always so composed, unshakable, reserved, and enduring!
Eugenia absentmindedly touched her lips, tracing them with her fingers.
The argument she now deeply regretted had erupted during an event for a body-art artist—curse that man! Justin Best, or Mykola Pudlyk by his Ukrainian passport, had gathered about twelve uninhibited models willing to offer their bodies as canvases for a fee. Eleven women and one man, to be exact. Justin wanted to demonstrate the process of creating art on the human body, and he’d invited other artists to showcase their skills in body painting as well. He aimed to position himself as a guru, believing no one could rival his talent.
Sophie didn’t pass up the opportunity to participate and signed up as a contestant, dragging David along with her since he was intrigued by the idea. Eugenia, as an expert and enthusiast of such events, invited Victor Vasylovych and Bernard Drew as special guests. Their presence elevated the event’s prestige, especially since Bernard brought along a fashion designer Sophie had collaborated with on painted clothing designs. Exclusive pieces from their collections were snapped up across Europe whenever new lines were released. The renowned brand paid Sophie handsomely, but she refused to focus solely on that work, continuing her studies and her role at the event agency.
Salome was in charge of photography and videography. Beyond her own live stream, she also invited local journalists to cover the event for the press.
Justin Best hadn’t anticipated such widespread attention and was pleasantly shocked. He was even more stunned when he spotted Bernard Drew and the designer, who were scouting creative talent for their projects. Justin pulled out all the stops to impress the distinguished guests.
Of course, Zlata was one of Justin’s models. And boy, did he put her through the wringer. He smeared her with various colors in bursts of inspiration, completely unconcerned about whether it caused her discomfort.
“Hang in there, kitten, hang in there! True art demands sacrifice,” Justin told Zlata as he painted around her eyes and drenched her hair with pigment.
“Look at Zlata,” Salome nodded toward the girl. “How on earth is she going to wash that out of her hair? Is she just going to walk around with white, pink, and blue streaks?”
“Oh, don’t you know Zlata? She’d shave her head bald if it meant snagging the right guy,” David remarked, overhearing Salome’s comment as he stood nearby.
The largest crowds gathered around the models painted by Sophie, David, and Justin. For Sophie and her classmate, it was a novel experience, but they approached it with seriousness. They’d planned their concepts in advance, deciding where and how to paint.
David had watched hundreds of videos and even experimented at home with crafting decorative elements for his vision. He decided to paint a dragon or lizard in yellow and green tones. He meticulously selected paints, consulting Sophie to ensure they wouldn’t harm the model’s skin. Art was art, but paints were meant for canvases, not bodies. Sophie offered advice on which paints to use and what to mix in to make them skin-safe.
Sophie chose a different approach. She aimed to blend the model’s physical features with body art, creating a design that would only fully reveal itself when the model struck specific poses or made certain movements. The idea was for the model to be dynamic, keeping the final image a mystery to onlookers until the end.
Victor Vasylovych quickly picked his favorites. He was proud of his students. He appreciated the work of other contestants as well, and Justin’s unconventional models certainly stood out, but they hadn’t considered the models’ well-being. Paint was applied directly to bare skin. Protective hair caps, specialized paints, and brushes should have been used, but not all artists thought of that. Some models were bound to suffer at least an allergic reaction. Justin himself seemed more concerned with his own image and impressing others than with the fact that paint had gotten into one model’s eye, leaving her squinting and teary.
Victor noted an intriguing concept—a visual illusion. One artist had painted parts of a model’s body black in a serpentine pattern, creating the illusion that her body was sliced into pieces. It was an interesting idea, though somewhat unsettling to him.
Bernard Drew was busy snapping photos, making calls, and constantly exclaiming with excitement and enthusiasm.
Once all the works were complete, a short photo session followed. The Parisian designer requested shots of all the models Justin had painted, intending to replicate their striking body-art looks in his clothing line. Inspired for a new collection, he promised Justin a percentage of the profits, and the artist strutted around like a peacock.
Bernard’s constant phone calls weren’t for nothing. He was in the midst of shooting a footwear ad campaign. David’s lizard-dragon model fit perfectly into the concept of flawless shoe leather—allowing people to move silently like lizards and soar like dragons.
Bernard sent photos of Sophie’s model to a renowned Parisian couturier known for creating outerwear from faux fur. In Bernard’s mind, a vision emerged: the face of a tiger, jaguar, or zebra transforming into body art, the image coming to life as the model declared it’s better to leave animals alive and opt for faux fur outerwear. A staunch environmentalist, Bernard loved the idea so much that he was ready to film it in Ukraine immediately.
Contracts awaited David and Sophie. The female models also landed opportunities, never expecting the event to yield such results and prospects. All the models and journalists who captured the unique content afterward begged to be invited to similar events, eagerly rattling off their phone numbers.
Zlata, however, hadn’t anticipated that Justin would simply forget about her after the photo session. She wanted to head to the restroom since paint had gotten into her eye. Blinking rapidly, she lost her way to the right room and bumped into Alex, smearing paint all over his suit.
“Sorry, Alex, I didn’t mean to. Help me get to the restroom—my eye feels like it’s going to pop out from this blasted paint! I’m going to demand compensation from Justin. What a jerk!” Zlata grumbled.
Alex guided her to the restroom and led her to the sink, as she might have otherwise cracked her head. Zlata wasn’t faking it. Tears mixed with paint streamed down her face, blending the colors into a mess.
“Well, well, look who’s here!” was the first thing Alex heard as he exited the women’s restroom, trying to wipe off the paint stains Zlata had left on his suit when she collided with him. It was a voice he’d recognize anywhere. Eugenia!
“Nothing scandalous. Just helping a girl out,” Alex replied calmly, sensing Eugenia’s temper rising.
“Sure, helping. I can see she was rubbing herself all over you. By the way, have you forgotten you’re on the clock? What does my dad pay you for? To guard me, or to sneak off with half-naked girls in the bathroom?” Eugenia fumed.
“I wasn’t sneaking off with her,” Alex said, his own frustration starting to build.
“Oh, so you saw a bare backside and some cleavage and just ran after her, leaving your charge unprotected?” Eugenia’s words grew sharper.
“Genie, don’t exaggerate.”
“I’m exaggerating?”
“Don’t make a scene. It’s not what you’re imagining.”
“I’m imagining things? You’re a dog, not a bodyguard!” Eugenia snapped, raising her fist to swing at him.
Alex’s patience reached its limit. He swallowed hard, turned away to dodge her blow, took two steps, then abruptly spun back and captured her lips in a fierce, passionate kiss.
Eugenia’s lips burned, seared with heat, as she felt herself floating above the ground. Now she understood what people meant by “butterflies in the stomach,” by “being lifted to the heavens,” by feeling desired. She kissed him back. But this wasn’t just a kiss—it was a duel, a struggle, a rivalry, a battle. It wasn’t her first kiss, but the emotions and sensations were entirely new. Time and the world around them froze. The pair saw and heard nothing and no one. They were lost somewhere in the galaxy, among the stars, diving into weightlessness and their own private universe.
“Well, well, Miss Untouchable! And you said you didn’t need him…” Zlata’s voice cut through as she emerged from the restroom and slammed the door behind her.
Something snapped in Eugenia’s mind. With all her strength, she shoved Alex away, breaking the kiss, and delivered a resounding slap across his face.
“Don’t ever do that again!” her tongue said, though it craved more. “Stay away from me! Who do you think you are, and who am I?” her lips declared, flushed from the sweet torment and silently begging for more.
She spun on her heels and marched back to the event hall, where the evening was winding down and everyone was gathering their things.
Alex drove Eugenia and Sophie home, as Etienne was away on a short business trip, giving the girls a chance to spend time together. They chatted about the event’s details and its success. Eugenia avoided meeting Alex’s eyes or catching his gaze in the rearview mirror. She regretted her harsh words and couldn’t fathom why her lips had spewed such nonsense. Alex didn’t say a word to her. He carried their things into the apartment. Eugenia planned to stay over at Kateryna Petrivna’s, where Sophie’s old room remained untouched, even though she now lived separately with her husband. Grandma always said Sophie could come back anytime, and her room would be waiting.
“Good luck, ladies,” Alex said in an uncharacteristically curt manner.
“Good night!” Sophie replied. “Thanks for the help. Want to come in? Grandma always has treats, and she’d be thrilled to see you.”
“Thanks, Sophie. You’re amazing. Not tonight, though. I’m exhausted,” Alex answered, not even glancing at Eugenia.
Neither Sophie nor Eugenia thought much of Alex’s words or the distant, melancholic look in his eyes at the time. The girls carried on as usual, chatting, planning for the future, and sharing their deepest secrets.
The next morning, a surprise awaited Eugenia. She had a meeting scheduled with a client at a small restaurant to finalize some details. She knew Alex was familiar with her schedule and assumed, as always, he’d have the car ready and waiting for her.
While talking with Sophie the night before, Eugenia kept touching her lips, still tingling from Alex’s kiss. She decided she’d gone too far the previous day and owed him an apology for her behavior and words. He wasn’t just a bodyguard; first and foremost, he was her friend, someone she trusted completely. And secondly, she had to admit it—she was jealous, darn it! Jealous of that snake, Zlata. She hoped the paint would make her eyes fall out!
Eugenia opened the door of the tinted sedan waiting outside the building and froze. A stranger sat in the driver’s seat.
“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Good morning! I’m Anton, your new bodyguard,” the man replied, immediately switching to a casual tone.
“Hold on. Where’s Alex?” Eugenia asked.
“I don’t know. I was told I’m taking over for now until everything is sorted out with your previous bodyguard,” the man explained.
“I’m not going anywhere with you. Get out of the car right now, you con artist! Get lost, or you’ll get a face full of pepper spray! I’ve got a canister right here,” Eugenia screeched. She didn’t believe for a second that this burly, pockmarked man was her new bodyguard. And where was the old one? No, wait! Where was Alex? Her Alex?
Panic surged through her. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind. Anton made no move to leave the car. Eugenia was bluffing—she didn’t have any pepper spray. But she remembered there was an air freshener near the passenger seat next to the driver. Alex sometimes used it because Eugenia hated the lingering smell of cigarettes that could cling to the car after smokers had been inside. With her right hand, she reached under the seat, grabbed the air freshener, and aimed it at the eyes of the brute who refused to vacate her bodyguard’s place...