Page 28 of The Art of Obsession
Ira doesn’t flinch. He’s used to this. Him and his icy Russian blood serve as a watchful protector of my affairs, unafraid when I must do my dirty work. A gift from the Bratva after I did them a service.
After Ira orders my security to deal with the body, I take my seat again, tap the armrest, and finish my whiskey.
The client’s gaze is fixed on me, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. “That was… efficient,” he says, his tone almost approving. “But tell me, Acheron, what exactly is this exhibit of yours? I’m sure you’ve got something grand planned. Will you give me a little more information?”
I lift my glass to him, the dark liquid swirling as I take another sip. “I will give you no more than what you already know,” I say, my voice steady and commanding. “It will be an exhibit of violent beauty, as only the God of Art can give.”
His lips twitch into a smile, but there’s something darker behind his eyes now, something that tells me he’s intrigued, but not entirely satisfied. “I trust it will be worth the wait.”
I lean back in my chair, watching him carefully. “It will be. But like all things worth having, it will come at a price.”
He nods, clearly understanding the unspoken implication.
The conversation shifts, but I can feel the weight of his expectations hanging in the air. He’s a man who thrives onpower, and I’m playing the game on my terms. I’ll give him what he wants but only when I’m ready. And when I do, it will be a masterpiece that leaves him—leaves everyone—gasping for more.
13
“You hate yourself, Everleigh Lennox, because you don’t hate me.”
Chapter Playlist:
“Breathe Into Me” – Red
“I’m So Sick” – Flyleaf
EVERLEIGH
Come on,Evie!Cherry whines, slapping her wings together while I reach for the popcorn.This is the fifth horror movie you’ve watched in a row. At this rate, you’re going to dream about chainsaw-wielding clowns, and I refuse to be your emotional support pixie for that!
More like I’d dream about you becoming some creepy doll like my personal poltergeist,I mutter.
Aww, that’s really sweet of you, but I don’t vibe with porcelain.She ruffles my hair from where I’m sitting on the same couch in my mind, nonchalantly talking to the figment of my imagination while beyond tipsy.Besides, I’m already your pixie poltergeist.
Can’t argue with that.
Taking another swig of vodka, I glue my eyes to the screen and soak in the sight of Sam fucking Carpenter bringing the blade down and landing the quote: “Don’t fuck with a serial killer’s daughter”. The original will always be my favorite, but I have a major crush on Melissa Barerra. And Jenna Ortega. But who the hell doesn’t?
Oh, I like Gale Weathers.Cherry flits back and forth behind me, her wings occasionally brushing against my head.Beautiful bitch was a force of nature. Never let anything stand in her way.
Sounds familiar.
Is that your third bottle, Evie? Can you even see the screen?
I shake my head, knowing I must look like some drunk zombie couch potato, sitting here in some old, baggy pajama pants and a cami while eating popcorn and pushing vodka back.
It’s the only thing that helps with this goddamn chastity belt. And the butt plug.
At one point, I was rolling around on the carpet, trying to dislodge the plug but was ultimately unsuccessful. I swear he fucking superglued that thing in there. I must have looked like a cockamamie tomcat on crack dragging my ass around the room or bucking and flopping like a fish out of water. I swear I practically heard his laughter. Just in case, I flipped the bird a few times for good measure.
I swear I have never been hornier in my life.
So, what’s next?Cherry slumps onto the couch, picking at her red-painted fingernails.Jason? Freddy? Leatherface? Oooh Quiet Place? Or how about The Purge?
Wish I could purgehimfrom my system.
Yeah, good luck with that. You’re more likely to win the lottery…while getting struck by lightning…andbitten by a shark during Sharknado. Oh! Let’s watch that next!She kicks her feet like a child.
Just as I’m ready to agree to her proposal, the doorbell rings. I jump, the popcorn bowl flying and scattering the kernels all over the place. Great. I don’t even care, not with the swirling mass that is my brain right now.
