The Billionaire's Stolen Muse

Luna POV

The final stroke of cobalt blue swept across the canvas, and I froze, holding my breath. It felt finished, but not in the way I'd hoped. The small, weathered boat in my painting floated gently on the waves, framed by a soft, golden morning sky. It was meant to look hopeful, resilient even, but something about it felt incomplete. The waves were too calm, the boat too still.

I let out a slow breath, setting the brush down on the edge of the easel. My eyes lingered on the painting as if staring long enough would reveal what was missing. I wanted it to be perfect, not just for me but for someone else.

Someone who might look at it and see something that mattered, something worth hanging in a gallery far away from this quiet, boring, and poor town.

But the only thing I ever seemed to capture was this place. The wide blue sea, the sleepy rhythm of life here-it followed me into everything I painted, clinging to me like the ocean air. I wiped my hands on a rag, the disappointed ache in my chest deepening.

"Luna! Breakfast is ready!"

Dad's voice carried upstairs, breaking my thoughts. I sighed, glancing one more time at the canvas before heading down.

The kitchen smelled of fried eggs and pancakes, a scent so familiar it wrapped around me like a hug. Dad stood by the gas, humming one of his old songs, his movements steady but a little slower than they used to be.

His graying hair was messy, and his broad shoulders, once so strong, now seemed a little stooped. Still, there was something unshakable about him, like the tide, always returning no matter how many times it was pulled away.

"Good morning, Dad," I greeted.

"Morning, my darling daughter," he greeted, not looking up as he flipped the eggs. "Didn't think I'd see you this early. What happened? One of your paintings kept you up all night again?"

I smiled faintly, sliding into the chair by the window. "Something like that."

He turned, setting a plate of eggs and pancakes in front of me before taking his seat across the table. "You're always painting. Always dreaming. It'll get you somewhere, Luna. I know it will."

The quiet conviction in his voice made my chest tighten. I nodded, forcing a smile. "Thanks, Dad."

Yet beneath the surface, I had my doubts. Whenever I glanced at the pile of overdue bills on the counter or saw Dad massaging his sore shoulders, the burden of my aspirations seemed selfish, even unachievable.

"I'll reveal what I've been focused on," I proposed, brushing those thoughts away. "Afterward, when it has dried."

Dad's expression lit up, and the creases in his eyes softened. "Simply don't assume I'll be one of those sophisticated reviewers. I excel at fishing, not artwork."

I chuckled, appreciating his delightful sense of humor. "Okay, Dad."

After breakfast, I returned to my room to freshen up before packing my satchel and putting my sketchbook, pencils, and several tubes of paint into my bag. The air outdoors felt cool yet held the warmth of a day that was expected to become warm. The roads of our small seaside town were coming to life, as the familiar figures went about their morning activities.

"Good morning, Luna!" shouted Señora Martinez, swiftly sweeping her porch with rapid, effective movements.

"Good morning, Señora," I said, giving a wave as I walked by.

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery, blending with the arid atmosphere. It was soothing in some sense, yet it also highlighted how rarely things altered here. I adored this town, yet at times it seemed as if the boundaries of my world were too near, the horizon perpetually just beyond my grasp.

I walked quickly down the narrow path leading from town, my pace increasing as I approached the hill. From above, I could observe the docks beneath, where the fishermen's boats sprinkled the water like little dots. The seagulls squawked above, revolving around the boats as the fishermen pulled in their morning catches.

And then I saw him.

Adrian Vega.

His boat moved smoothly across the water, cutting through the waves with an ease that made it look effortless. From this distance, I could notice how the sunlight reflected off his dark, smooth hair, tousled by the ocean breeze. His muscular arms tugged at the nets with accuracy, his motions smooth and intentional.

My breath stopped, and for a brief moment, I simply stood there, observing. He always seemed so comfortable out there, as if he was part of the ocean in a way I could never be part of anything.

I located my regular place beneath the shade of an ancient olive tree and arranged my easel. My hands shook a bit as I opened my sketchbook. I aimed to seize him-his calm power, his alluring physique, his captivating gaze, and how he appeared to represent the ocean itself.

The shape of the boat, the strain on his shoulders, and how light reflected on the water. I started to sketch, allowing the pencil to smoothly move across the paper. My heart raced with each stroke, and for a brief moment, it seemed as though everything around me vanished.

"Luna!"

I jumped, nearly dropping the sketchbook. Turning, I saw Sofia climbing the hill, her curls bouncing as she walked toward me.

"You scared me!" I exclaimed, pressing a hand to my chest.

Sofia grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You looked so serious like you were sketching the meaning of life or something."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, obviously," she teased, sitting down beside me. Her gaze landed on my sketchbook, and her grin widened. "Oh, I see. Or should I say, "Who are you sketching?"

"Sofia-"

Before I could stop her, she snatched the sketchbook from my hands.

"Impressive, Luna. You're great. Really great," She remarked, scanning the pages. Then her eyes playfully squinted. "You've been sketching him quite often recently, right?"

I swiftly took the sketchbook again, and my face flushed. "It isn't that way."

"Of course, it isn't." Sofia reclined, grinning. "You realize you could simply chat with him rather than watching him from afar."

"I can't simply speak to him," I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper. "He possesses his dreams, Sofia. Larger ones than mine. What if...I'm merely a distraction?"

Sofia's playful grin eased. She set a hand on my shoulders. "Luna, you're not a distraction. You possess talent, and you equally deserve to dream as he does. However, you'll never understand his thoughts unless you give him an opportunity."

Her words echoed in my thoughts while we remained seated, observing the boats coming back to the dock. Adrian was one of them, his shape outlined by the setting sun.

"Don't allow fear to stop you," Sofia said softly, rising and shaking dirt off her jeans. "You possess something extraordinary, Luna." "Do not squander it."

As she departed, I gradually gathered my belongings, my eyes glued to Adrian's boat. The sun sank further, painting the water in vibrant orange and rich purple. My heart hurt under the burden of all that I desired but couldn't figure out how to achieve

Maybe...Maybe Sofia was right. Curiosity had eaten me deep already and I couldn't focus because of Adrian. Tomorrow, I'll try my luck and speak to him; what's the worst thing that could possibly happen?