“We don’t always get what we want, Alora. Deal with it. There’s a car out front that will take you home.” He nodded toward the door, where a man built like a gladiator stood.
I didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so I turned on my heel and left. The man, who I was told was one of Kreos’ bodyguards, took me home and walked me straight to my front door. Luckily, Dove and Margot weren’t home yet, so I didn’t have to explain anything to them.
Only when I was alone and locked inside the bathroom did I open the envelope.
Ten thousand dollars.
That son of a bitch had given me ten thousand dollars.
I didn’t know if I should cry or laugh.
This was going to solve so many problems for us right now.
The question was, why did it feel like I’d sold my soul to the Devil, but I was the one reaping all the benefits?
Chapter Eight
Alora
I filled Dove in on everything when she got home. Because she was right. She wasn’t a little kid I needed to protect from the world. And besides, I couldn’t keep it to myself no matter how hard I wanted to.
Her eyes widened when I showed her the cash, and she jumped across the couch and hugged me so hard we both rolled onto the floor. Both of us were excited about what the money could do for us.
I wasn’t so excited about what Kreos might want in return, but I pushed that thought to the back of my head.
She insisted he might be in love with me, and I laughed until tears came out of my eyes. He definitely wasn’t in love with me. Maybe he wanted to have sex with me. He obviously wanted to control me, which, to be clear, would never happen.
He’d asked for my absolute submission, which had left me even more confused. I mean, he was the kind of man who had models throwing themselves at his feet. And I was—a nobody. One thing was for sure, though: his mood swings were giving me a headache.
I was even more shocked the next morning when his gladiator bodyguard showed up. How he got into my building, I had no clue. He came over and handed me mycamera. The one I’d pawned.
My body stiffened, a flash of utter humiliation running through me. So Kreos knew I’d pawned it because I was broke. I knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about. But knowing and feeling were two different things. I didn’t have money to pay my bills, not from lack of trying, but because I was apparently an easy target when I loved someone too much. Either way, I hated that he knew.
Speaking of being an easy target, Dylan finally texted me back. One word.
Sorry.
Yeah, I was sorry too. Sorry, that because of him I’d had my whole life twisted around.
But today was a new day. A better one. I wasn’t going to let anything bring me down. I’d gotten up extra early to get a money order for the rent. Luckily, Dario wasn’t in, just his slightly less creepy cousin. I gave him the rent and my thirty days’ notice to move out.
Dove and I were moving the hell out of this neighborhood. The only good thing about this place was Zeke out front, but I was sure he’d manage without us. I didn’t know where we would go, but it didn’t matter. Ten thousand was enough for a deposit and first and last months’ rent at a new place. Maybe we’d find a place with an extra room so I could finally set up my own darkroom instead of having to run to the art center all the time.
I didn’t have work in the evening, so after dropping off groceries at home, I grabbed my camera. The submission deadline was in six weeks, and I only had four out of twelve photos I needed. All this stuff going on with Dylan and Kreos was really stifling mycreativity. But now, I was ready to win this thing.
I walked around Brooklyn, looking for anything that would inspire me. The theme of the competition was mortality, and I’d already gotten a few shots at a cemetery. I didn’t want to be predictable and boring, so I was looking for things that would capture the theme, but not in an obvious way.
Luck was on my side, because I found the best photo in the least likely of places: in an alley behind a bar that I was pretty sure was a cover for a gambling den. On the ground, in a puddle, was a pocket watch with a bullet hole through it. The casing was just off to the side. It was as if someone had set out the items just for me to find.
It was well after dark by the time I finished. I grabbed some bottles of wine and threw them in the trunk on my way home. Dove was making dinner—Italian, she said, which for some reason made me think of Kreos and that little apartment in Albany above that restaurant.
No. Bad girl. Don’t think about the sexy devil man who thinks he’s your master.
Dove was in the kitchen dancing around and lip-syncing, using a wooden spoon as a microphone. My whole body warmed at the look on her face. She was happy. And no matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, it was because of Kreos. She’d changed the color of her beanie. It was now a white and pink polka dot one, instead of black.
She stirred the pasta sauce, then held the spoon up to my lips so I could taste it.
“Mmm, that’s so good. If you decide you’re done with art, then you should become a chef.”