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Aiden tensed at my side. “How do you know that?”
My stomach knotted as I digested Arlo’s words. We were in way over our heads with the Salvatores. They were always five steps ahead.
“I know a lot of things about you and your sister.”
“We don’t want blood money,” Aiden shot back.
A creepy but interesting look crossed Arlo’s face. “Your grandfather owns the largest pharmaceutical company in the world. Some day, you will take over for him.”
Aiden bit his bottom lip. “We don’t need or want his money. And I have no interest in running his company.”
Pops and Aiden constantly fought about our family’s future. My brother was dead set on staying as far away from Wellington Pharmaceuticals as possible, and Pops wanted to force his hand. One of us had to assume the role as CEO after our grandfather retired, which was long overdue, and it sure as hell would not be me.
“Street art must pay better than I thought,” Arlo said in a cocky tone.
Bastian and Damian snickered, while Marcello just stared across the table at us, observing our reactions. Luca sat at my side, emotionless, his gaze moving between us as he surveyed the mood of the room.
Aiden squeezed my hand under the table. “Street art isn’t about money or fame.”
“Tell me,” Arlo said in a cool tone. “What is it about?”
“Making a statement,” Aiden snapped.
I patted the top of his hand to soothe him. Aiden hadn’t wanted to come to dinner for this exact reason. From the start, the Salvatores had never shown him an ounce of respect. Arlo considered my brother a weak link who would take me down with him, which made Aiden a threat to his heir.
“We have the money from my exhibition,” I told Arlo.
“Yes, I heard you sold out.” He steepled his hands on the table, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Quite a remarkable feat on your first showing. Evangeline didn’t do that well on her first attempt, and she was the hottest up-and-coming name.”
My heart sunk to my stomach faster than an anchor hitting the ocean floor. He gave me a look that said, Did you think you were better than the great Evangeline Franco?
It.
Was.
All.
A.
Lie.
Arlo sipped from his glass. “Did you find out who bought your paintings?”
“Dad,” Luca hissed.
“An anonymous buyer,” I whispered as I turned to look at Luca, who gave me an apologetic look. “You promised not to…”
“Drea, baby.” He moved his hand to my thigh. “It’s not what you think.”
My heart cracked down the middle, splitting into hundreds of pieces that shattered into a million more. They orchestrated everything in my life.
The New Yorker interview.
The gallery opening.
The sold-out show.
Our move to Devil’s Creek.
My position at the Franco Foundation.
Everything was a game with Arlo Salvatore. Aiden and I hadn’t lived in Devil’s Creek long enough to know how to play it. They operated under a distinct set of rules here. Aiden’s street smarts and my book smarts were not enough to outlast master manipulators.
We fell right into their trap.
Someone was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears and the pounding in my chest. I blinked a few times, my vision fuzzy from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Chunks rose from my stomach and settled in the back of my throat.
Unable to look at any of them, I pushed my chair out from the table. “Excuse me.”
I rushed out of the dining room and bolted toward the front door, desperate for air. My chest ached from Luca’s betrayal. He promised not to interfere with my art. I stressed the importance of making it in the art world on my own. That monster had to control the one thing that was mine. He could tell me who to befriend, what to wear, and even block me from getting dates, but I drew the line with my paintings.
“Lexie,” Aiden yelled down the hallway.
I spun around to face him, hoping the contents of my stomach wouldn’t spill onto the polished floor.
“Let’s go.” Aiden led me toward the door. “Fuck all of them. Don’t let them mess with your head.”
“I hate him,” I choked out. “I hate all of them. They’re sick. Why are they doing this? They have controlled every part of my life since the day I met Luca.”
Aiden slid his arm behind my back and hugged me. “We can go back to Haven and leave this shit behind us. You don’t need them. Pops will understand if we leave.”
“And let them win? Not a chance.”
“It’s up to you.” Aiden cupped my shoulder. “Whether we stay or go, I will let you decide.”
I should have left town. If I had listened to my brother’s advice, he wouldn’t have gotten mixed up with the wrong people.
Still awake, I worked through the night from my villa in Italy when my cell phone rang. Marcello knew I’d be up at this hour because I never slept. I had too many demons keeping me awake at night, taunting me. Besides, the Devil didn’t need sleep.
