Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
He groaned. “Might as well be. What are you wearing? A g-string?”
I pulled at the string on my hip and smirked. “No, this is a thong. I’m sure you’ve taken off more than a few from your victims.”
His chest rose and fell as his eyes moved from my face to between my thighs. So I spread my legs wider to tease him. I’d just gotten a wax, my skin smooth and soft.
“Maybe you should punish me for being a bad girl,” I joked.
My pulse pounded as he ran a hand across his jaw. He looked like he was considering my proposal. I’d always noticed the way he watched me from a distance. Even when Luca was there, Marcello never hid his interest. His nose tipped up as if he could smell my desire, and I definitely didn’t miss his hard cock pushing against his pants.
“You’re lucky Luca isn’t here,” he bit out.
“What a shame,” I deadpanned, smacking my lips together in an annoying fashion. “Speaking of the King of the Universe, when can I talk to him?”
“When he gets home from Italy this weekend. Luca doesn’t have time to play games. So don’t even ask to call him. The answer is no.”
I moved my palms to my thighs and leaned forward, drawing his attention to my breasts. “What the hell is going on, Marcello? Why am I here? We both know Luca doesn’t want me.”
“It’s none of your concern.”
Nerves tore into my stomach, making me feel sick from all the dark thoughts racing through my head. Maybe Luca wanted to kill me. To get rid of the Wellington twins once and for all.
“Marcello, please.” I ran my fingers up my inner thighs to lower his guard with the possibility of sex. “What’s going on?”
Eyes on me, he slid his tongue across his lower lip. He followed every movement I made, his chest expanding with each deep breath. I thought I had him. But a man like Marcello would not allow sex to cloud his judgment. Neither would Luca.
Marcello shook his head and muttered, “Get in the shower,” before leaving the room.
I was halfway across campus, on my way home between class breaks, when my cell phone rang. Aiden’s smiling face covered in paint lit up my screen. Before our winter break, we had the stupid idea to use acrylic paint on our faces to see who could create the ugliest mask. Spoiler alert: Aiden won with his creepy snake mask.
I raised the phone to my ear. “Hey, Aid.”
“Lexie, you need to come home,” my brother said with desperation in his tone. “Now.”
My pulse pounded like a jackhammer. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to see this.” He blew a deep breath into the receiver. “Someone broke into our apartment.”
With one phone call, my heart shattered into a million pieces, four months of hard work down the drain.
“No,” I muttered, now running toward our apartment building. “Someone stole my paintings?”
“I’m so sorry, Lexie. Someone trashed our place. They destroyed them.”
I released a sob, unable to contain the tears streaming down my cheeks. “My showcase… Aid, I worked so hard on it.”
“I know. We’ll figure it out, okay? Just get home.”
We hung up a few seconds later, and I shoved the phone into my bag, running so fast my legs ached. All semester-long, I had worked on a new collection. A local art gallery was highlighting a few of the top students’ paintings for a special showcase. It was my first big break, an opportunity I had worked my ass off to get.
I ran to Benefit Street, where I shared a two-bedroom apartment with my brother. RISD had gender-inclusive housing, which was one thing I loved about the school. They also had the best reputation in the art world.
I opened the door to our apartment and stopped dead in my tracks. Someone had torn my canvases to pieces, scraps laying on the floor as if they were garbage.
Aiden stood at the center of the living room, his eyes downcast as he studied the mess. He lifted his head to meet my gaze. “Who would do this?”
Still in shock, I lowered my bag to the floor. “I think the more appropriate question is why would they do it?”
“You’re the best in our class. It’s not the first time someone has tried to sabotage you.”
I shook my head. “This wasn’t a student.”
He moved across the room to close the distance between us. “Why not? That bitch Stacey Clearwater has been gunning for you since sophomore year.”
“We don’t like each other,” I confessed, “but even Stacey wouldn’t stoop this low. She’s not that vindictive.”
“This reminds me of the time Mom shredded your favorite Evangeline Franco painting.” He sighed at the thought of the incident that led to my first meltdown and forced stay at Haven Asylum. “But even she wouldn’t do this to you.”