Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
They tried everything.
Conventional medicine. Radiation therapy, chemo, and two different experimental drug trials.
None of it shrank his tumors. He only got worse.
That’s when they went for the nontraditional cures. Acupuncture, herbalists, diet therapy, even exercise regimens. Dad was taking a dozen or more pills of dubious quality and origin in the hopes that something might work.
At one point, Mama spent $10,000 to send Dad to a med bed therapy center—allegedly these mattresses that use alien technology to cure disease—which was a total and utter scam and did nothing to help.
But Mama spiraled. The med beds were just the start. If there was a grifter with a way to cure cancer, Mama was sending them money.
She took out credit cards in her name. She took more out in mine.
And in the end, Dad passed away, and a big part of Mama died with him.
That’s why Valentin’s offer is so tempting. The idea of being married to that total psychopath for two years is honestly terrifying, but it can’t be worse than the nightmare I’m living in right now.
Caught in a cycle of debt and desperation.
Living at home with the husk of my once-vibrant mother.
I like to tell myself that if we can claw our way out from under all this debt, maybe one day I can bring more of my mother back from wherever she disappeared.
Whatever hole inside of herself she crawled inside.
I show up at Merrick’s on time. This time, I come in clothes. He makes a few jokes about flashing strangers and maybe I picked the wrong door, which was expected. I laugh along with him, even though I’m thinking about Valentin’s massive hands on my flesh, his fingers dimpling my thighs as he spreads them—
“All right, darling, I’ve got this for you,” Merrick says, giving me a silk robe. “Go ahead and get comfortable.”
I strip down and put on the robe. Merrick has me keep it on for a while as he sketches, then I take it off, a little at a time. “This is the slowest striptease ever,” I tell him, feeling weird and exposed in his attic art studio. I’m surrounded by his canvases, most of them in various states of half-finished.
“Good thing you’re not remotely my type,” he murmurs, frowning to himself. “You have all the wrong parts. It’s the way the silk drapes. I really love it. Very sensual. Has anyone ever told you that you have that look?”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“It’s sexy, you know, but also classic. Like a Greek statue.”
“I’m not sure that’s the compliment you think it is.”
He laughs and waves his brush in the air. “Darling, I’m a painter, not a writer. Oh, yes, keep giving me that moody little pout, I love it.”
He works for a while longer, then suddenly checks the time and calls for a break. I pull my robe on as he disappears downstairs, promising to come back up in ten minutes.
I fish my phone out of my pants pocket and sit on a stool near the window. The light really is gorgeous up here. And I have to admit, Merrick is insanely talented. He can do ultra-realistic when he wants, but mostly he works in a strange, modern impressionist style he developed for himself, lots of daubs of paints and smooth lines, more a suggestion and a feeling than a perfect composition. He’s all the rage these days, and I understand why.
Posing for him was really stressful at first, especially after that bizarre mix-up with Valentin, but that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m getting more comfortable standing around naked in front of Merrick. In fact, I let my robe slip open slightly, the sun pouring in across my breasts. It’s warm and comfortable, and I lean back with a smile on my face and my legs crossed as I scroll through social media, feeling lazy and sleepy.
I gradually become aware of a presence.
“Are you ready? I swear, I’m going to fall asleep. I think I need some caffeine.”
“I can make you tea if you wish, malishka.”
I flinch sideways and drop my phone. It clatters away across the floor.
Standing near the stairs is Valentin.
He’s watching me with a carefully composed look. His eyes move down my lips to my exposed breasts, still naked in the sun, and down to the puff of black hair between my legs.
I hastily wrap myself. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap at him.
“Merrick told me you were coming by.”
“That asshole,” I hiss, leaping to my feet. I tug the silk robe closed as tight as I can, but I’m extremely aware of the way the fabric hugs my body.
It drapes, in Merrick’s words, and he’s right. It’s way too sensual.
I feel it now that Valentin’s staring at me like he wants to devour me.
If only I really was a statue—then Valentin could break his teeth and jaw on my rock skin.