Page 62 of Tainted Obsession 1
“I studied Photography, but that’s just a hobby,” she replies. “I’m not really qualified to do anything other than teach. It’s not like I could ever make a living off my art.”
Something about the way she said the words sounds rote, like she’s repeating a truth she’s heard often.
Suspicion stirs, and I don’t think I’ll like her answer.
I ask anyway. “And who told you that?”
She shrugs and drops her gaze, hiding from me again.
“It’s just a fact. Art degrees don’t pay.”
“Who told you that you’re not good enough?” I compel her to reply, leaving no room for evasion or defiance.
Her cheeks flush. “My parents,” she mumbles. “George. But they were right. It’s just a silly hobby. I’m not a real artist.”
I gnash my teeth and taste copper on my tongue. I resolve to gift her with a camera at the first opportunity. Then I’ll see her talent for myself.
“You studied Photography at university?” I prompt. “You got a degree for it?”
She shakes her head even as she answers, “Yes. But I?—”
“Then you’re an artist.”
It doesn’t surprise me. She’s observant and a bit reserved at times, quietly assessing the world around her. I remember how she studied the wares when I stalked her through the market, as though she saw beauty in every item.
She snapped a photo of some flowers with her phone, and that motherfucker, Crawford, said something to make her frown. She quickly hid it, replacing the sad expression with a sunny smile. But he upset her.
My fingers itch with the need to wrap around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.
But she wouldn’t like to hear that, so I ease off questioning her.
She’s almost finished her melon, but I have more on my plate. I have some decidedly wicked ideas about tasting the sweetness on her lips.
She’s had a difficult day. As much as I’d like to ravage her, I can be gentle if that’s what she needs from me.
I’ll fuck her soon enough. A kiss will do for now.
Chapter 25
Evelyn
Everything feels slightly surreal: the fact that I’m on a private jet en route to Colombia and the possibility that the gorgeous man sitting next to me is completely devoted to me. At the very least, Massimo is infatuated with me.
It’s bizarre, utterly disconnected from my mundane life as it had been only a few days ago. I’d gone to work teaching English at the university every day, and at night, I’d returned to the tiny apartment that I’d tried to make into a home for George and me. Our relationship hadn’t been passionate, but I’d loved him.
At least, I thought I did.
Now, I’m not sure what love even is. Because it’s not lies and betrayal: what George offered me in the end.
“What are you thinking about?” Massimo touches the fading mark on my neck, calling my attention to him. “Are you nervous about the flight?”
“I’m nervous about accompanying a drug lord to meet his other cartel friends in Colombia,” I burst out before I think better of it.
Stefano has stepped into a separate, private compartment to make a phone call. If he were present, I wouldn’t dare such raw honesty. But I don’t have to hold back around Massimo. I can’t.
“I have business in Colombia,” he insists. “We’ve discussed this. I won’t leave you alone in Mexico City.”
When I’m in Massimo’s arms, it’s so much easier to allow myself to drift, to live in the moment instead of falling prey to panic. My entire life is spinning out of my control, and his solid presence has become my anchor.
