Marcello:I’m head of security. Let me do my job. I’m handling the Volkovs.
Luca:We can’t afford to lose her. The F Society wants the deed done.
Marcello:Chill. She’s safe.
He sent a picture of Alex in the red dress I’d picked out for her. Fuck, she looked so good, like a present I wanted to unwrap.
Despite what she thought of me, I brought her to Devil’s Creek for her protection. Because the wrong people knew she wasourweakness.
After Marcello hung my new clothes in the closet, I grabbed the leather portfolio from my bed and tucked it under my arm. I had five minutes until my meeting with Luca. We’d spent more time in town than my stupid schedule allowed.
Marcello ushered me to the end of the hallway. We took the stairs to the third floor, where Luca had an office and bedroom. As far as I knew, he occupied the entire floor, while Marcello shared the fourth floor with his father. Bastian and Damian were down the hall from me, which meant more torture in the future.
I was easy prey for them.
Marcello was at my side, quiet as usual, his stony demeanor in place. We stopped at the end of the hall in front of a tall wooden door with an ornate gold handle.
He balled his hand into a fist and knocked. A few seconds later, Luca appeared with a maniacal grin, staring at me with those haunting blue eyes. Luca Salvatore was like a dirty dream wrapped in an expensive suit, dipped in nightmares, and sugar-coated with sex appeal.
His hair was as black as ink, cut short on the sides and spiked in the front. The severeness of his jaw matched his expression.
It saidfuck with me, and I’ll slit your throat.
He stepped forward, studying my face before he turned his gaze on his brother. “What took you so long?”
Marcello gave him a bored look, shoving his sleeve up as he glanced at his Chopard watch. “We’re on time.”
He flung out his hand. “Leave us.”
Marcello rolled his eyes and walked away without a word.
Luca wrapped his fingers around my wrist, pulled me into the room, and slammed the door so hard I jumped. He moved his hand to the side of my face, tilting my head to both sides as he examined me. Was he looking for an imperfection? A blemish?
He wore a bespoke navy blue suit that molded to his body as if sewn onto him. Fear shot through my body, my heart pounding as I stood before my cruel prince.
Luca’s fingers moved from my throat to my chest, dipping between my cleavage that spilled from the low-cut dress. My skin burned where he touched, my body confusing my fear for desire.
An amused smirk tipped up the right corner of his mouth. He raised his hand and beckoned me to follow him.
“Why am I here?”
Luca sat behind the desk and tipped his head to my portfolio. “Is that for me?”
He took the book from my hand and scanned the pages. Luca didn’t seem the least bit impressed with my paintings. I stood in front of his desk, my pulse pounding in my ears, sweat dripping down my back.
The bastard didn’t even offer for me to sit. He ignored me as if I were as insignificant as the furniture in his office. I’d endured tons of interviews over the years, everyone from gallery owners to artists I admired. This was, by far, the most brutal.
Five minutes passed in silence, though it felt more like hours. Luca peeked up at me, his hand on a particular page at the back of the book. It was a piece I calledThe Devil’s Unfinished Work.
A mixture of black, red, and orange paints combined perfectly to create an Art Deco-Cubism theme. Within the shapes, you could see the face of a man, though you couldn’t make out all of his features.
That was the point.
I wanted people to talk about whether they thought the man was the devil himself or just a man who sinned. His mother had inspired the painting. Years of studying Evangeline’s work had filtered into my own.
I wondered if he noticed the similarities between our paintings. Could he see how much she influenced me?
Luca’s eyes flicked from my face back to the page. He rested his hand beneath his chin and sighed. “This one interests me most of all.”