Page 7 of Forbidden Hearts

I’m lying to her. I didn’t take summer classes. I spent summer nights working at Jacob’s club to save money. But I’m not about to tell Mom what I do for money. She would throw herself in a river to get it over with before letting me give her another dollar. I know because she joked about it once. Except it didn’t sound like a joke at all.

“Will you be taking any fun classes at least? Business school sounds like a drag,” she says.

I smile as I sit at the table with her. “Business school is definitely a drag. I’m considering taking an art class this semester, but I’m not sure yet.”

Three weeks ago, Jacob asked me to sign up for Alonzo’s figure drawing class. He wants me to seduce Alonzo and get him to trust me so we can rob his blind. Just thinking about it again sounds absurd, but if I find that money, it can be a life changer for Mom and me.

I wasn’t planning to go through with it, but seeing Mom struggle with her illness is painful to watch. We need the money.

“You should take that class,” Mom says. “I remember those wonderful drawings you used to make when you were little. I might still have them somewhere.”

She is talking about drawings I made when I was in middle school. One time, an art teacher asked us to draw self-portraits. Mine was terrible, just like everybody else’s in class. I mean,we were middle schoolers, for Pete’s sake. But the art teacher complimented my drawings, launching me into my pre-teen drawing era. Not that my art skills ever improved after that.

“It’s not that type of drawing, Mom,” I say. “It’s figure drawing, like drawing people and poses. Stuff like that. It’s a lot more complicated.”

My face warms at the thought of seeing Alonzo again. I can’t lie to myself. He is deadly handsome. Perhaps as deadly as he was in his previous life as a mafia enforcer.

Over the past few days, Jacob has been feeding me information about Alonzo, hoping I’ll agree to be part of his absurd plan. I don’t know how much of that information is accurate and how much is getting filtered through Jacob’s racist and condescending attitude.

But there is one thing I am sure about. Alonzo Alvarez is a dangerous man. If anything goes wrong with our plan…well, I don’t even want to think about what could happen.

Chapter 4

Alex

Leaning against the wall, I clench my backpack straps and steal glances at the other students waiting outside Alonzo’s classroom. We’re waiting for him to arrive and let us in.

As a business major at a small university, I always see the same faces in most of my business classes. The last time I set foot inside a non-business building was during sophomore year, when I completed a biology class for non-majors.

All these faces are new to me. I wonder if I’m a new face to them, too. I must be because the art department isn’t much bigger than the business department.

A girl with red curls sits on the floor next to me. On her tablet, she draws what looks like an illustration for a children’s book. It’s a witchy girl and a black cat sitting on a broomstick, flying over a cornfield.

And just like that, I remember I can’t draw even if my life depended on it. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb in this class. Technically, I have to stand out if I want to seduce Alonzo. But I can already imagine all the other students judging me, comparing their masterpieces to my fugly drawings.

“That’s beautiful,” I say to the redhead. She looks up at me with a big smile and thanks me. She has a baby face and big blue eyes.

“How long have you been drawing?” I ask her.

“I’ve been scribbling since I could hold a pencil, but I only started doing digital art since I was sixteen,” she explains.

I knew it. Everybody here is studying art for a reason. Signing up for the class was probably a bad idea. We could have gone a different route with this. Jacob could have introduced us at the club during one of my work nights.

But perhaps that would have been too suspicious. Besides, who knows what Alonzo would think of me if he knew I work there?

“What about you?” the girl asks. “What type of art do you do?”

“Mostly stick figures,” I reply.

She laughs a goofy laugh. “Well, this class will be perfect for you,” she says, rising to her feet and putting her tablet into her backpack. “My name’s Isabella, by the way.”

“I’m Alexandra, but you can call me Alex,” I say. “I’m new to this whole art thing.”

“In that case, you’re in luck. I hear Professor Alvarez is a really good professor,” she says.

“You haven’t taken a class with him before?”

“I haven’t. I’m a freshman. This is my first semester here, but I’m kind of a nerd when it comes to school, so I signed up to several TCU Discord and Facebook groups over the summer.Everyart major knows about Professor Alvarez. Apparently,he’s very good at teaching art,” she says. She leans in closer and whispers, “And a few other things, apparently.”

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