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)
“Yes,” I muttered, my voice shaky. “When the reporter from The New Yorker called me for an interview, I thought it was a prank call and hung up on her three times.”
“You’re incredible, Drea,” Luca cut in. “They would be stupid not to admire your work.”
“Please tell me you had nothing to do with this.”
He kissed my cheek, his fingers trailing down my back. “It was all you, beautiful.”
His words said one thing, but I wondered if he set up the interview. With his connections to the art world, it would have been easy for Luca to make my dreams a reality.
Arlo pointed to my left, his finger aimed at the last-minute addition to my collection. “That reminds me of something Eva painted for me. She called it Master of Mystery.”
I nodded. “I’m calling that one Devil in Disguise. It’s a new spin on the original. I plan to donate any money I make from it to Evangeline’s charity.”
Arlo shot a confident look at Luca, then fixed his gaze back on me. “How would you like to help with the Franco Foundation?”
My jaw dropped from his shocking offer. “I would love that, but I have another show coming up in a few months. What did you have in mind?”
He slid his hand across the back of my neck and rested it on my shoulder. A warning shock pulsed through my body. My mind and body agreed Arlo was not only frightening but up to something. I didn’t trust him, but I shoved down my concern as he steered me away from his sons and a worried Aiden.
“I want to recreate my wife’s favorite pieces every year on the anniversary of her death. I’d like you to take the lead on the project.”
“It would be my honor,” I choked out. “But I don’t want to step on any toes at the foundation. What if I can’t do her work justice? I don’t want to…”
Ruin her legacy with imitations.
Arlo gave me a closed-mouth grin. “I have faith in you, Alexandrea. So does Luca.”
“What’s the catch?”
“If you accept the position, you need to move to Devil’s Creek.”
“Oh,” I muttered.
If I lived in Devil’s Creek, I would be closer to New York, which would help further my art career. I didn’t want to live near Luca, but how could I turn down this offer? It was a dream come true.
“Think it over.” He tapped me on the shoulder. “My assistant will be in touch.”
Luca replaced his father a few seconds later. The soft fabric of his suit jacket brushed my arm. Our fingers almost touched, but I pulled away from him, leaving room between us. Even with the distance, the saltiness of the sea that clung to him like cologne wafted in the air. I both loved and hated that scent.
“Did my dad talk to you about the project?”
I cleared my throat. “Yes.”
We stared at the wall in front of us, our eyes moving between two of my Devil’s paintings. Luca’s fingers grazed mine, this time with intention, a rare show of his affection.
“So you’ll do it?” Luca asked.
I wondered if he would also move back to Devil’s Creek, but I ignored the silly thought. He’d lived in New York for years and seemed to love his life in the big city. No way he would uproot his life for me.
“Of course,” I told him. “I’m your mother’s biggest fan. How could I pass up this opportunity? But I’m worried about…”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” he assured me. “No one else gets my mother the way you do. If anyone can capture the essence of her work, it’s you, Drea.”
The Salvatores gave me everything I ever wanted, then stripped it away, one dream at a time, until there was nothing left but nightmares.
“I showed my dad The Devil I Know,” Luca confessed.
I angled my body to look at him. “You still have it?”
He nodded. “You painted it for me.”
It was his twenty-sixth birthday present.
“I’m surprised you kept it.”
His pretty blue irises darkened. “Let’s forget about the past for tonight.”
I rolled my tongue across my chapped bottom lip. “Why are you nice to me?”
“Because I don’t always hate you.”
Luca hated his feelings for me, but I never thought he hated me as a person. Just the idea of love and intimacy. He’d never learned how to process his emotions after his mother’s death, and after years of abuse, he thought he was incapable of love. His father showed his love through power and possession.
He slipped his fingers between mine, holding my hand in public, which shocked the hell out of me. “Tonight, everyone is here for you.”
Luca wasn’t always a shit human being. Sometimes, I saw a man with a heart and soul untainted by violence and corruption. I craved those brief moments with him, savoring them long afterward. Too bad they never lasted.