Page 18 of Reckless Temptation

It didn’t help that my father had told me how I was a cowardnotto help her when she was this down and stuck in her head. For years, he proved how he was her support system in terms of her mental health. When I was a kid and I saw her decline into depression, it scared me. I’d stay away from her and draw or color so I wouldn’t be intimidated by how vacant she seemed. Back then, I didn’t know better. I was only old enough to realize she was distant. Now that my dad was gone, it was up to me to watch out for her however I could. George was clueless, pretending she was a complacent trophy wife without a care in the world.

“See you later,” he said, jarring me from the indecision over what to say to her. The time was never right. Or she secluded herself too much.

Am I making excuses?AmI a coward?Dealing with a family member’s mental health wasn’t easy.

It shouldn’t be this hard to ask her if she needs help.

“Yeah.” I lifted my hand in a wave, seeing them off before I headed inside to find something to eat. I’d make time to talk to her later.

Tiffany and Rachel had already eaten, by the looks of the dishes they’d left out on the counter for the housekeeper to gather andclean. As I stood at the island and prepared a plate of leftovers for myself, I eyed them out on the patio, lounging near the pool.

Well, that’s out.

Rachel had a boyfriend, but I was sick of her hitting on me. I didn’t want to go near them, anyway, not with how likely Tiffany would be to whine about something or another.

Before I could finish washing my plates, before I could escape to my room and shower or avoid them, they entered the house.

“You would think that she’d fail it,” Tiffany complained as she and Rachel came into the kitchen for more water.

“Hi, Nick,” Rachel purred.

I nodded once as a hello.

“Fucking Angus makes us handwrite it all,” Tiffany said, shaking her head. “I mean, who does that? Who actually expects students to turn in work done by hand?”

I huffed. “I have to.”

Tiffany rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t count.”

I knew what she really meant. That art didn’t count. That anything outside of law school was inferior and frivolous. I didn’t want to make art my career, but I still hated how others could treat it like it was meaningless.

“I think it counts.” Rachel licked her lower lip, trying to overdose her sultriness. “Is it true that the dean’s daughter asked you to paint her?”

I smirked at her. “No.” But then because I loved riling them up, I added, “Shebeggedme to.” The dean’s daughter was the last so-called exposé in a series of my artwork being shared online.

“Hello?” Tiffany snapped her fingers in front of Rachel. “We’re talking about my problem here.”

“I don’t think Sabrina turning that paper in is your problem,” Rachel said as she sat at the island, watching my arms as I washed my dishes.

“Sabrina?” I furrowed my brow. Now that I had a face to put to that name, I couldn’t help but be intrigued. I’d only seen Sabrina twice, but both times had me curious about her. Between the impatient, soaking-wet law student and the dressed-down, casual late-night researcher, I couldn’t tell what to make of her. I’d followed her that night, from a distance, just to see her go to the library and focus. “What paper?” I hated asking, but I blurted it out before I could catch myself.

“Some assignment we had to turn in. Her first copy got wet after we got her pushed into the fountain on the square,” Tiffany explained, “and it’s bullshit that she’d be able to redo it on time.”

I raised my brows. I knew Tiffany was a bitch, but I never realized how far she’d go to sabotage someone else to get ahead.

“But she did,” Rachel finished for her. “And the prof praised her hard work.”

“Angus isalwaystalking about fucking Sabrina,” Tiffany whined. “It’s like she shits gold.”

“This is the one you are worried about getting that intern spot?” I asked. Again, I wanted to kick myself for asking. I didn’t care. Ididn’t care about Tiffany, but I couldn’t help this intrigue about Sabrina.

“Yes,” Tiffany snapped, as if it should be obvious. “The profs are always praising her for being such a ‘hard worker’.”

“Then you’ll just have to thwart her in more creative ways,” Rachel said devilishly. “If you’re this desperate for that intern spot, think outside the box.”

I snorted then shook my head, done with my dishes and leaving them out to dry. Some habits were impossible to break. I’d never get completely used to a housekeeper doing this for me. “George will obviously give you this intern thing,” I told her.

“I’m not so sure,” Tiffany said, frowning as I walked away, dismissing their conversation.

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