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She sees it as soon as she walks inside the room.
It’s not easy to miss, anyway. The canvas is set up in the middle of the living room, right in front of the fireplace. There are more paintings scattered on its left and right – various works that Rachel has never seen before - but none of them is as impressive or big as the painting in the center.
Rachel feels like she has to rub her eyes, to make sure she’s not dreaming.
It’s a portrait of her.
She immediately recognizes the photo used as reference. It’s from a photoshoot she did a couple of years back, when performing on Broadway was still a dream she’d work towards – but this painting takes it a step further, and Rachel can almost see the girl looking at her come alive on the canvas.
It’s surreal, and a little bit amazing, the fact that Quinn Fabray devoted time to painting a portrait of her. She’s almost reaching out to touch it, to make sure it’s not a figment of her imagination when Quinn’s voice startles her.
“You’re not dreaming, you know.”
She turns around so fast, she almost loses her balance, only to find Quinn Fabray leaning against the entrance to the room, with a satisfied smirk in place.
The first thing that Rachel notices is that she’s so different from the woman that got incarcerated six months ago. Gone are the flowery dresses, and the cross around her neck. She’s now wearing jeans, with a simple button down and a jacket, and everything about her exudes power.
Rachel wishes she didn’t feel a shiver run down her spine at the sight of the woman – she’s always thought of Quinn as the prettiest woman she’s ever met – but it seems like this is the first time she gets an actual glimpse of who she really is.
She can’t deny the thrill of it, even as she offers a defiant reply.
“I do not usually dream of visiting criminals!”
Quinn raises an eyebrow at that. “You mean, you’ve never, not once, dreamt of me, since you met me?”
The question takes Rachel by surprise – a pretty blush rises on her cheeks – and she’s about to reply emphatically that no, she hasn’t, even though that’s the furthest thing from the truth, but Quinn is already moving to sit on the couch that’s right across from the portrait.
“Relax,” she says as she sits down, and points to the armchair next to her. “Have a seat.”
Rachel rolls her eyes. “I’d rather have a reason as to why I’m here.”
Quinn arches that damn eyebrow again.
“Straight to the point, huh? Fine. You’re here because I want to make you an offer.”
Rachel crosses her arms. “I don’t accept offers from criminals!”
“Do you have to call me that?” Quinn has the audacity to actually sound hurt. “I prefer the term entrepreneur.”
“You can call yourself whatever you want. I know the truth,” Rachel replies haughtily, and watches as Quinn’s expression turns amused.
“No you don’t. No one does. For months, you only saw what I chose to saw you. The innocent, good, Christian girl who was only interested in restoring works of art. You only opened your eyes to the truth when you had no choice but to accept it.”
Rachel doesn’t know what to say to that – Quinn is right. They’d both – her and Jesse – denied who Quinn really was, blinded by her Lucy persona so completely, until the truth was revealed.
It’s a sore subject, so Rachel turns around and focuses back on the paintings, in an effort to change the topic.
“These are remarkable,” she offers, and she means it. “I don’t understand why you didn’t actually choose this line of work.”
She can hear Quinn sitting up from the couch and, a second later, she’s standing right next to her, her eyes trained on one of the smaller paintings.
“Why didn’t you continue on Broadway?”
Rachel’s eyes go wide, but Quinn continues on, obviously not expecting an answer.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t ask questions I cannot answer for myself.”
“My alternate career doesn’t get people killed,” Rachel challenges.
“And you have no proof that mine does,” Quinn counters and sets her eyes on Rachel.
It’s almost a staring contest – blink and you lose. Hazel eyes are looking at her with such an intensity that Rachel is getting closer and closer to losing – but it’s Quinn who looks away first.
“In any case, this is your offer to prove your theory.”
“My chance?”
Rachel is confused, and maybe a bit dazed, by the way Quinn was just looking at her.
“Yes. I’m offering you the chance to get to know me. We will meet up whenever it’s convenient. But you can talk to no one about this. If I suspect someone knows – if I feel that I’m being watched, even for a second – I will disappear and you’ll never see me again.”
Rachel laughs. “You must think I am an idiot, if you believe I will accept this.”
“I actually think very highly of you, this is why I’m proposing this to you and not that idiot you call a partner.”
“Jesse will suspect …”
“You could always tell him you have a lover,” Quinn teases, making Rachel blush, and she turns to face the brunette.
“Come on,” she urges, her voice acquiring a tone that Rachel can only describe as seductive. “You like to be the best at everything you do, don’t you? What I’m offering you is a chance to best me at my own game.”
Rachel turns to look at her.
“And what will you be getting out of this?”
Quinn sends her a devious smile.
“The pleasure of your company, of course.”
It’s like getting ready to strike a deal with the devil. Rachel can feel herself falling into a situation that will turn more and more dangerous, the more time she spends with Quinn, but Quinn’s hand is extending, and she’s powerless to resist.
“This is a trap,” she says, more as a warning to herself than anything else.
“In that case,” Quinn replies cheekily and leans in to whisper in Rachel’s ear, just as their hands shake on it, “We’ll have to wait and see who will get caught.”