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“Oh, we’re doing this again.” I smacked her ass hard enough to leave a handprint, and she yelped. “You’ll never want another man’s mouth near your pussy after today.”
She fisted the fabric in her hand and spun around, dropping her sexy ass to the floor. “Luca, we’ve already gone over this. We’re not good for each other. We’re the worst version of ourselves when we’re together.”
I climbed on top of her and kissed her smart-ass mouth. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
She moved her hands between us and tugged on my belt. I pushed her hand away, and she gave me a surprised look.
“We’re done playing. Get dressed. I’m taking you back to Wellington Manor.”
She pulled the dress over her head and tugged it down her stomach. “Don’t forget your birthday present.”
I licked my lips. “I just tasted it.”
Her laughter floated through the room. “No, I mean the painting.”
I studied the canvas with a rare smile. She signed the corner with the name Queen D, the nickname I had given her.
“Someday, you will be just as famous as my mom,” I said with absolute certainty.
If she didn’t make it independently, I would move heaven and hell to give her what she deserved. No amount of money or favors would be too much to see her smile. To look at me the way she was right now.
“I’m calling it The Devil I Know.”
Even with all the smoke and ash surrounding the man wearing a crown of fire, I knew it was me—her Devil.
We drove through The Hills, past the guard gate, and toward the founders’ mansions which overlooked the entire town. The Salvatore Estate was to our left. Marcello made a right.
I rested my elbow on the armrest between us, and Marcello tensed from my closeness. “What do you do around here for fun?”
Eyes on the road, he said, “I work.”
“All work and no play makes Marcello a dull boy,” I joked.
Marcello laughed.
I faked a surprised gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “Would you look at that? The Prince of Sadness laughs.”
“Don’t call me that,” he shot back as he parked in front of a tall wrought-iron gate with a massive W at its center.
Wellington Manor.
He hit a button on the call box, spoke to the security guard, and within seconds, the gates moved inward. As we drove onto my grandfather’s property, years of memories washed over me, which only made me miss Aiden more. We passed rows of maple trees, where I’d hidden with Aiden our first summer in Devil’s Creek.
Our grandmother hated us and made it known we were not welcome in her home. So we spent most of our time outside. We had so much fun back then before we understood why our grandparents had invited us to live with them.
When Marcello parked in front of a sprawling mansion with a circular driveway, I flung open the door and climbed out of his car.
“I’ll be back at ten o’clock,” he growled. “You won’t like the consequences if I have to hunt you down.”
“You don’t own me, Marcello.”
I slammed the door and walked toward the house. In his late sixties, a man dressed in a black suit and armed with a warm smile greeted me.
“Alexandrea,” he said with his head lowered. “Welcome back to Wellington Manor.”
“Thank you, Charles. How have you been?”
“Wonderful, thank you for asking. I hope your travels were pleasant.”
“Yes,” I lied. “How are your grandkids?”
He smiled. “Mia just turned five. She’s a handful. And Sean is about to start his first year at Astor Middle School.”
“Kids grow up so fast.”
“Yes, they do.”
Charles had worked for my grandparents since he was my age. My first summer at Wellington Manor, Charles made me feel at home. And every summer after that. He never yelled at Aiden and me and always fixed us snacks. Treated us like teenagers who desperately needed parents.
I stepped into the house and glanced over my shoulder at Marcello before he drove away. Good riddance. For the first time in twenty-four hours, I breathed easier without Marcello on my ass.
I walked down the long hallway with Charles. The interior of the home did not fit my grandfather’s personality. Wellington Manor was cold and sterile. With its white walls and floors, minimal color unless you counted black and cream, even the expensive paintings couldn’t bring this place to life.
We entered a sitting room. It was larger than the entire first floor of my home back in Haven. My mother sat on a bench by the window with an old-fashioned cigarette holder in her hand. A plume of smoke gathered around her head like a halo. She wore her blonde hair in a neat updo, dressed in a champagne-colored gown that flowed around her ankles.
Where is my mother?
The alien in front of me swapped bodies with my mom. She was in Devil’s Creek for a few hours and had already slipped back into her role as the daughter of a Big Pharma mogul. Aiden and I had spent our summers in Devil’s Creek, but this was the first time my grandfather had allowed my mother to come home in thirty years. She was disowned when she left—her punishment for marrying my father.
