Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 523(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
He uses my hair as leverage to pull my head to the side, exposing my neck. Like always, he doesn’t kiss me on the lips. He nips the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey before roughly putting me aside.
“Later, darling,” he says as he walks through the door.
I’m left standing there, feeling unanchored and adrift as I so often do these days. When loneliness creeps up on me again, I call my mom to check in on her and to tell her the news. She says she’s happy for me but I’m too talented to work as a tattoo artist, at which I remind her how scarce work is these days. We make a lunch date for the following week before I hang up. Even though she assured me she’s fine, I can’t help but worry when I’m not there to keep an eye on her.
To distract myself, I invite Zelda over for lunch. In the afternoon, I swim a few laps, and when there’s nothing else for me to do, I sit down at Leon’s desk and finish my latest drawing, which is of a woman locked in a beautiful, golden cage. I’m adding the finishing touches when the turn of a key sounds in the front door. A jolt of shock runs through me. I check the time on my phone. It’s only five. Leon isn’t supposed to be home until seven.
Blotching the wet paint with tissue paper, I make sure the watercolors won’t run. Then I hurriedly gather my sketches and push them back into the folder. There’s no time to put it back in its hiding place. I’ll have to hide it somewhere else, but where?
I look around frantically as the door swings open, and Leon enters. He dumps his keys and an envelope on the entrance table and takes off his leather jacket.
From the hallway, he has a view of the kitchen and lounge. I’m trapped. He’ll see me if I go out onto the deck. Clutching the folder against my chest, I exit his study.
“Hi,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I thought you were coming home later.”
He looks between me and his study, suspicion dark on his face. “I finished early.”
“Okay.” I sidestep to the stairs. “I’ll go get ready.”
“Violet.”
The harsh sound of my name on his lips stops me.
He crosses the floor slowly and stops in front of me. “What were you doing in my study?”
I lick my dry lips. “Nothing.”
“Nothing,” he repeats, dropping his gaze to the folder in my hands. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”
“It’s nothing.” I back up to the stairs. “Really.”
His tone is quiet yet stern. “Give me the folder.”
I hug the folder tighter. “It’s private.”
“Is it now?” He narrows his eyes. “Is that what you call snooping?”
“I wasn’t snooping,” I exclaim.
“Do you expect me to take your word for it?”
The question is asked softly, but its punch steals my breath.
“Fine.” I climb a step, putting us on eye level. “I deserved that.”
I turn to escape, but I don’t make it two steps before he wraps his fingers around my upper arm. The momentum pulls me back, making me lose my balance. I flail my arms instinctively to regain my footing, but it’s too late. I plunge backward. The folder drops from my hand and falls open as it hits the step, papers flittering out and flying everywhere.
A pair of strong hands catch me before I hit the floor. Leon locks his arms around my waist from behind, picking me up and carefully depositing me on the bottom step.
“Did you hurt yourself?” He tests my balance before turning me to face him. “Your hip? Your leg?” Dragging his hands over me, he says, “Fuck. Did you twist your ankle?”
“I’m fine.”
The air is stuck in my lungs. My heart thunders in my chest, but not only from the near-fall. I’m staring at the destruction around us, at my secrets tiling his floor.
He stills.
It’s too late.
He saw.
Going down on his haunches, he picks up the drawing nearest to him. It’s a particularly violent one of the woman tied up and being whipped while the alien comes on her face.
Leon blinks, his lashes lowering too late to hide the reaction reflecting in his eyes. He seems confused. Surprised. Shocked, maybe. My mom would’ve been horrified. Gus would’ve set fire to the paper Leon holds in his hand. I stand frozen, holding my breath and wishing the earth will swallow me as he picks up one drawing after the other and studies each.
After a long moment, he straightens, stacks the pages together, and slides them back into the folder.
The look in his eyes is shuttered when he hands me the folder. “I owe you an apology.”
Unable to keep his gaze, I lower mine. “I can’t sit for long if I’m not at a desk. I was using yours for drawing.”