The Painter’s Daughter Read Online Margot Scott

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
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My father stood with Michelle and her husband by the dining table, the three of them taking particular interest in the centerpiece of a serpent eating its own tail my father had recently bought from a gallery show. I avoided his gaze as I made my way to the sunken living room, swaying a little as I went. I was going to trip if I wasn’t careful. Kicking my heels off, I weaved between the clusters of guests, mentally batting away bits of their conversations.

“I heard he’s still fucking her. He has to be…”

“There’s no way he bought that at full-price⁠—”

“I heard it was a gift.”

“More like payment for services rendered.”

Kristin had joined one of the artist couples and a journalist for Art in America on the couch. I tried to slip past them, but halted when I felt a tug on the hem of my dress. A smug-looking guy in a black felt hat whose name I couldn’t recall had caught hold of my dress and was not-so-stealthily attempting to peek under it.

“Paige, come sit with us,” Kristin slurred.

I shot the pervert a nasty look and forcefully removed his hand. “There isn’t any room.”

“You could lay across our laps,” he said, patting his thigh. The grin on his face made my shoulders want to kiss my ears.

“I’ll pass.”

The two made drunken sounds of disappointment. I scanned the room. The man I wanted to speak to was watching me from my father's favorite club chair. I extricated myself from the others and came to stand before him.

Maddox smiled like he’d been expecting me.

“Hey there.” He patted the cushioned armrest, and I sat down, resting my legs over his thighs.

I took a sip of liquid courage and coughed.

“Careful,” he said. “That’s a stiff drink for such a little girl.”

“I’m not little.”

His mouth tipped. I felt his hand on my back, warm fingers gliding through the ends of my hair. Instinctively, I thought to pull away. Then I remembered that this was Maddox, the man my father had described as the closest thing he’d had to family growing up, and the only man he’d ever agree to share me with. In a way, it felt like I was meeting another long-lost relative.

“How did you meet my father?” I asked.

He whistled. “That is a long story.”

Maddox swirled the wine in his glass. From up close, it was easy to tell what Kristin saw in him. He wasn’t blatantly handsome like my father, but his eyes were ocean blue and probing, his smile warm enough to melt even the coldest of tempers.

“I like long stories. That’s why I’m here.”

“Here in my lap, or here at this party?”

“Both.” I nestled my feet between his legs on the seat cushion. He eyed me shrewdly and spread his knees a little to grant me more room. “Where are you from?”

“Texas originally, but I moved up north to live with my aunt right after high school.”

“Did you meet my dad at college?”

“Nah, I wasn’t a fan of classrooms, though I did a short stint as a night custodian up at SUNY Albany.”

Judging by his Rolex and tailored suit, he no longer made his living working as a custodian. He leaned over to set his wine glass onto a nearby table. I stole the chance to breathe him in. He smelled expensive, like leather and citrus.

“My aunt took in foster kids,” he said. “That’s how your daddy came to live with us. She bragged about doing God’s work at church, but I suspect the extra income was the real driving force. She didn’t do it out of a love for kids, that’s for sure.”

Maddox examined my face as though he were searching for evidence of something. Feeling self-conscious, I raised my glass to my lips. He chuckled, his voice deep and velvety, as he walked his fingers up my spine toward my neck. With his other hand, he encircled my ankle. No doubt if he’d had extra hands, he would’ve wrapped them around my wrists, too. Oddly, I didn’t feel trapped so much as strapped in place, secured for my own safety. I felt like I could talk to him, though I wasn’t sure why. He was a stranger—a stranger who knew more than I did about the two most important people in my life. But still, a stranger.

“Did you know my mother, too?”

Maddox’s smile widened.

“I sure did.” He stroked my calf. Arousal skittered up my leg, burrowing into the rich, fertile soil of my groin.

A squeal pulled my attention over to the couch where Kristin had somehow found herself on the floor. Drunk off her ass and practically spilling out of her top, she crawled up to the chair where Maddox and I were sitting.

“You two look awfully cozy.” She knelt at Maddox’s feet, using his thigh as a pillow. “Paige, your eyes are so big.”



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