Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Now here you are.” His voice is close. He’s standing only a few inches behind me.
I stare at his reflection in the window superimposed above the vague outline of the landscape.
“Now here I am, forging art, something I bet he’d love.”
“You’re not your father.”
“No, but I’ve crossed the line I swore I’d never cross.”
“I pushed you over it.”
“What’s the difference? Here I am, on the other side.”
“I’m not going to lie to you, Hellie. I don’t know how long this is going to last.”
I turn and face him. “Now you don’t want to lie to me?”
“I never have.”
“I feel like it was a kind of lie when you injected me with propofol.”
He waves that off. “I never lied, only had to use creative means to convince you to come out here.”
“Yeah, real creative, drugging me.” I let out a long sigh. “I’m not even angry, and I should be. Just drained at the prospect of doing this again.”
“Look at it this way. If you weren’t here, you’d be back there, in the real world, doing your real-world bullshit. Would that be better? You’d have to scramble to make rent, to pay bills, to feed yourself, and barely have time or energy for your own art. At least here, you can work five hours on the forgery, and another few hours on your own stuff.”
My eyebrows raise. “You’d allow that?”
“Hellie, I would love it if you worked on both.” He reaches out and touches me. I don’t flinch away, which scares me in a way I can’t explain. His fingers brush my cheek. “Make art. Do this job. Eventually, you’ll pay off your debt, and I’ll convince Frost and Gallo to leave you alone.”
“Will they?”
“I’ll be very persuasive.”
“What about you? Will you leave me alone?”
He stares and doesn’t answer. I look back, afraid of what he might say. But the prospect of money lingers behind all this, in the promise he made to give me a fat payout when this is over, a percentage of the sales. I know my life is going to change—it already changed—and the old world is left behind.
“I’m not sure I can ever leave you alone.” He wraps a hand around my throat. Gently though. He leans in, lips brushing mine. “Now that I’ve tasted you. Now that I’ve had you in my life, in my arms. I’ve washed you, fed you. Kept you alive. Fucked you until you screamed. I don’t know if I can just let you go and never speak to you again.”
“I bet you could if you tried real hard.”
“Is that what you’d want?”
“Right now, I just want to go home.”
“Pretend this is your home. It’s better here, isn’t it?”
I hate him for saying everything I’ve been thinking. He’s right, but he’s also wrong.
“If you’re going to kiss me, then do it,” I say, chin raising.
His hand remains on my throat. His mouth stays close.
“I want you to admit you like it here.”
“And I want you to throw yourself off a cliff. We can’t all win.”
“You like it when I kiss you. You like it when I make you come.”
“Yes, okay, fine. Should I pretend like I don’t?”
“Yes.” His smile is wicked. “At least fight me a little.”
“Go to hell.” I smile back sweetly.
He kisses me. I kiss him back, breathing in through my nose as his tongue invades my lips and his grip on my throat tightens. He holds me there against the window, the cold glass against my back, kissing me, tasting me, and I breathe him in, feeling his muscular body, the power in his fingers. This man, this beast, he could destroy me, but instead he’s done nothing but keep me going.
The kiss breaks apart. He leans his forehead against mine.
“I won’t force you to stay here forever, Hellie, but while you’re under my roof, you will do the best work you possibly can.”
“I’ll try.”
“No, don’t try, just do it. Create like you’ve never created before. The forgeries and your own work. While you’re here, take advantage.”
I laugh and he steps away. He’s entirely serious, which is so bizarre. “Why do you even care?”
“Because you may never get another shot at doing something great, and I think you have it in you. So fucking try.”
He turns and walks to the door. I stare at him, head ringing. I look toward the painting hidden behind the cans and wonder if maybe he’s right and I’ve already started.
But he doesn’t leave. He pauses, shoulders tense.
He speaks one last time. “Tonight, come to my room when you’re finished.”
I stand stiffly, eyes wide with surprise. “Your room?”
“Yes. My room. You know where it is.”
“I know, it’s just, we’ve never, you know, gone in there.”
“I want you to sleep in my bed tonight. I won’t force you, but I will be waiting up. Don’t make me wait too long.” Then he leaves without another word.