And then Alex quoted my mother in my bedroom, removing the barriers between us. It was as if she knew the perfect thing to say after I’d showed her my secrets etched into my skin. The constant reminders of everything I’d lost.
Alex rolled over, drawing my attention back to the screen. My younger brother sat in an armchair by the window, his eyes on my sleeping queen. He licked his lips and adjusted his dick.
Fucking asshole.
Light from the French doors floated into the room, splashing across her face. She looked ethereal when the sun hit her cheek just right. Alex was so fucking beautiful, perfect in every way. I was a possessive dickhead who needed to control everything, but the cameras were for her protection.
My enemies had gotten to her a few weeks ago. Thankfully, Marcello intercepted the threat. If he weren’t good at his job, Alex would have been around the world by now, another casualty of human traffickers.
They had watched Alex sketch at her favorite cafe. Followed her from Haven University to her home. I thought she was safer with her parents, halfway across the country from me. That was why I forced her to leave Devil’s Creek after her brother disappeared. And because of the fucked up shit she did afterward. I still hadn’t forgiven her, but I could let the past slide for now.
I was a dangerous man. She was a good girl who was bad for me. My business often overflowed into my personal life, but none of that mattered until my ally turned enemy discovered my obsession with Alex. I’d kept her away for a reason. I made her hate me because it was necessary. And there was only one way to keep her safe.
I typed a quick message to Marcello.
Don’t be a dick.
He glanced up at the pinhole camera in the room’s corner and raised his middle finger before sending another text.
Calm down. NO ONE will touch our queen!
Alex would become the Queen of The Devil’s Knights. She just didn’t know it yet. My girl knew little about the secret organizations that governed our world, but she was about to discover her purpose in this sick and twisted game.
You’re goddamn right they won’t.
Marcello frowned as he typed another response.
She’s safe here. Let me handle the Albanians.
I’d asked Marcello to spend the last three weeks in Haven learning everything about this version of Alex while fielding attacks from our enemies. She had changed so much in the past nine months since her brother’s “disappearance” I wasn’t sure if the same girl existed inside that beautiful body. Broken and scarred, no matter what condition, I would always want my Drea. That girl was fucking made for me. But the wrong people knew she was my weakness.
It was the end of July, a month before Luca’s twenty-fifth birthday, when he made good on his promise. No matter how much I hated him, I could never turn down the opportunity to see Evangeline Franco’s private studio inside his mansion.
My jaw dropped as we walked into a massive room with a domed ceiling, hand-painted by the legend herself. Until that moment, I thought the fresco on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was the greatest work of art I’d ever seen. Dozens of emotions poured out of me as I spun in circles, studying every detail of her masterpiece.
“Wow,” I whispered, pushing down the tears stinging my eyes. “This is… I think I’m speechless.”
“My mother had that effect on many people.”
“She did this by herself? It must have taken her years.”
He nodded. “She started after Marcello was born and finished a few months before her death.”
“Seven years,” I muttered. “That’s some serious dedication.”
I stopped in front of Evangeline’s self-portrait and stared at her in awe. She was gorgeous, with flawless skin and long black hair that looked like fine silk draped over her shoulder. Her sons had inherited her big sapphire irises and long, black eyelashes.
How did she capture the detail so well in her own face?
“My mother sat in front of the mirror,” Luca said as if reading my mind. He pointed to the exact spot in the room’s corner. “She memorized every detail of her face before her brush moved across the canvas.” He smiled at the painting. “She wore a simple but elegant black Chanel dress and her favorite Mikimoto pearls. The entire time she laughed and smiled, cracking jokes about how vain she must look painting herself.”
I chuckled. “She was an amazing woman.”
“Everyone loved and adored her,” he said as his eyes met mine. “Even people who didn’t know her.”
Luca moved to the next canvas on the wall.
“I have this painting,” I told him. “It was the first Evangeline Franco piece I owned. Pops surprised me with it.”
“My mom gave it to him. They were good friends.”