Page 84 of Rogue Villain

“Well, it’s not so much the happiness I begrudge, Wren.” Levi shrugs self-deprecatorily. “It’s the simple fact that I’d have more chance of getting laid if I crawled inside a fucking chicken…”

His remark has the three of us dissolving into floods of laughter until Levi needs to get to class, leaving just Elodie and me. The second he signs off, she’s straight into it.

“Well, was I right?” Her lips are upturned in a barely suppressed smile.

My brow creases. “About what?”

A filthy grin blooms on her cheeks. “Does he fuck like a beast?”

CHAPTER25

VAUGHN

It takes a full week to unravel the mess with Lucia fucking Romano, but at the end of those seven days, I can rest assured that I won’t need to see her face or deal with her shit ever again.

She’d been the very picture of sorrow as she’d packed up her office, and I’d relished the sight.

Good fucking riddance.

Now, everything is in motion to ensureRavishnever returns to Rogue.

And the meeting with Nolan Fritz had gonepreciselyas planned. The cogs of his downfall were turning. Time and patience would see that prick getting his just fucking desserts.

“Security is in place for this evening, V. Everything is good to go.”

Ford meets my eyes, nodding sharply before exiting my office. I grab my cell and call Jo Fratelli before I do the same. He answers on the second ring, cutting right to the chase.

“I’ve deduced that Elliott Porter’s yachtiswhere it’s supposed to be, in Puerto Rico.However, there are zero hospital records, meaning one thing—”

“Sara Ricci is lying.”

Jo hums his agreement, then voices the same question rattling around in my own head.

“For what reason, though? I’m genuinely confused here, but I’m working on it as best I can.”

“Ford is, too, now that this business with my ex-employee is resolved. Have you looked into the other Porters?”

“I’m keeping tabs, but nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve requested to meet with Lennon Porter, who would be Delilah’s ex-husband and Dr. Porter’s brother. I’m thinking if anyone knows what’s going on, it’s him. I’m still waiting to hear back.”

“Okay, keep me posted.”

Once I’ve hung up, I throw on my suit jacket and make my way across the hall to Wren’s studio, as I’ve done every evening this past week.

She’s so involved in the painting before her that she doesn’t notice my entry, and rather than interrupt her, I stand back, absorbing her beauty from afar.

Something I should have continued to do despite her willingness to enter into this arrangement with me, but somehow, I can’t find it in me to give one single shit.

This time with her is worth burning in hell for all eternity.

But would she still look at you with her heart in her eyes if she knew who was responsible for her father’s death?

I shake off the thought before it can begin to fester in the depths of my brain, instead focusing on the picture before me.

My chest constricts when I realize the piece she’s working on is a still life. An image undoubtedly from her memory.

An image ofus, bodies entwined, souls consumed in one other.

The constellation of tattoos on my upper torso is uncannily similar to the actual piece Lorenzo commissioned for me over twenty years ago. Each and every brush stroke is a symphony in and of itself.

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