Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
He groans. “You can’t. I’m sorry, baby, but you can’t. We’ll find another way.”
“There might not be another way. If this attack happens like you think it will, Simon’s going to lose his mind. Hell, he’ll lose it even if I warn him first.”
“Laura, baby—”
“If Simon thinks there’s a credible threat from people you’re associated with, he’ll never let me out. He’ll never let me anywhere near you.” I can see it already, spinning out like a wobbling coin rotating on its edge. Simon will blame Marco, and then he’ll blame me, and I’ll be trapped twice as hard. For my own good, of course.
“Then we’ll wait. Weeks, months, years if that’s what it takes. Eventually, we’ll find a way.”
“I’ve waited years already,” I say, staring out across the oasis at the beautiful houses and the setting sun reflecting in their windows. This has been my home for a long time now, but it doesn’t look right anymore. It’s off-axis—or maybe I’m the tilted one.
“I’m not going to let you get hurt.”
He doesn’t understand yet. I’m already hurt. I’m already aching, trapped here, without him, but this is our chance.
I’m not afraid.
“I’m going to the opening. I’m getting the fuck out of here, Marco. And I’m not looking back.”
Chapter 36
Laura
The gallery is in a big former warehouse space on the edge of the downtown lake district. The white walls are pristine, and the lighting is professionally and tastefully done. Young men and women in black outfits with simple black masks pass champagne flutes and gorgeous hors d’oeuvres that look almost too good to eat. I don’t take anything, since it’s a pain with my mask on, and no part of me wants to take it off, not even to pour some alcohol down my throat.
I’m too nervous to drink, which might be a first.
“This is going really well,” Elena says, sounding ecstatic. We linger near one of my jackal ears while a well-dressed couple in matching Mardi Gras masks discuss my technique. Generally, they’re favorable, although the guy’s being kind of a nitpicking prick, and it’s taking all my power not to tell him to go fuck himself.
“Is it? That’s great,” I say, pretty distracted by the critical dickhead.
“Angelo just told me you sold half the pieces so far and he has bids on a few more. This is millions of dollars’ worth of art, Laura. People are kind of going nuts over it.”
“That’s… amazing?” I frown behind my mask, not sure how to feel. I never made my sculptures with the intention of showing them off. It’s nice that people like them, but really, their opinions don’t fucking matter to me one tiny bit.
I keep scanning the crowd, waiting for familiar faces. Or familiar masks, whatever. Everyone in attendance has their face covered, and Elena mentioned earlier that it’s becoming a sort of fashionable novelty, these little anonymous art gallery openings. Most of the masks are very well done and elaborate, though there are a few people that did the absolute bare minimum. Angelo says everyone in the room is either high net worth or high status and we can’t kick them out for not buying into the mask theme, but I kind of wish we would anyway.
“Look, I know things are weird with the family right now—” She stops talking when I turn my gaze on her. Even through my golden-horned mask, she can tell I’m not happy about where this is going.
“Weird? You want to talk weird? My brother is keeping me on house arrest.”
“He thinks it’s for your own good.” Elena looks very uncomfortable. “If it helps, I tried to talk to him—”
“Great, am I free to go now? Can I have my car back?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Then I appreciate the attempt, but it doesn’t help me.” I turn to walk away. I’ve been tolerating her all night, since I don’t really blame her for what’s going on, but talking about this is only making me upset.
“Hold on, wait a second.” She moves into my patch. “I’m on your side, okay? I really mean it. I know you’re dating that Santoro guy is probably a bad idea, but—” She puts a hand on my arm. “I’m happy you’re happy.”
I look at the hand and slowly move away. “Thanks for saying that. Tell it to me again when Simon’s being less of a dick.”
I leave my sister. It’s not really fair, lashing out at her like that, and if I’m honest with myself, I’m not really upset with her. I’m on edge, knowing that something bad is definitely going to happen, but not sure how or where. And worst of all, I haven’t seen Jackal yet.
He’ll be here. He has to be here. There’s no way Jackal would leave me alone to fend for myself. If he does, fine, I’ll come to grips with that and deal with it—after I manage to get the hell out of here. Only I keep stalling and putting off my escape, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.