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"Kade could find me," I remind him.
"Your brother's too preoccupied," Hodge says and jealousy twists my stomach into knots. Why did Kade get his happily ever after and I didn't? It's fucking unfair. "He has three children now, and he's still running the company. He never suspected anything. Far as he knows, you're dead."
"And I'd like to keep it that way," I mutter. "He can't find out about this. Not now, not ever."
"What if I could promise you that he wouldn't?"
"You can't."
"I can." Hodge sounds so confident I almost believe him. "Trust me, Nox. Just agree to this gallery showing. One exhibition. That's all I’m asking for."
I've had enough, and I don't know how to make myself any clearer than I already have, so I cut the call short. I turn off my phone and pull on a jacket before heading outside. The receptionist isn't there, and I'm grateful for it. The last thing I need to deal with is a horny little teenager. Although the thought is tempting, I only have eyes for one woman.
I head to the nearby newsagent to pick up some smokes. Barking my order at the woman behind the counter, I wait for her to get them for me, scanning the magazine covers as I wait. I almost miss it, but it's unmistakably her. My little bird is on the cover of the most famous fashion magazine of the city.
I grab a copy off the counter. I'm so pissed off already, I crumple the paper, ignoring the saleswoman as she hisses I'll have to pay for that. I throw some money on the counter, grab my smokes and the magazine, and head off, eyes still trained on Dove's beautiful, scarred face staring back at me with trusting eyes that have seen so much pain already.
That bastard put my woman on the cover of a goddamn magazine. Naked.
My hands tighten around the magazine. I raise it again to see the image in its full glory, and that's when I see it. The scar I put on Dove's face is not the only one she has. Her body is full of them – little cuts, small but deep enough to scar. Some of them look newer than the others. She's hurting herself.
I wanted to kill the photographer, Raphael whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is, but now, a need to protect little bird is twisting my stomach into knots. I have to save her. Not from me, but from herself.
Chapter 9
Dove
My own face is staring back at me from the cover of a magazine. It's been a long time since I've seen myself in print, and now I understand why.
The image is beautiful, but I'm not. The scar marring my face is too prominent. I thought maybe Raphael would edit it out. I signed an agreement that said the photos were his property, but I didn't expect him to exploit me like this. My blood boils, anxiety taking over as I pay for my copy of the glossy magazine. The vendor's eyes drink me in curiously. He's recognized me. I need to get the hell out of here.
I rush across the street. Raphael sent me a text this morning telling me to pick up a copy of the magazine, Void. He probably thought I'd be thrilled to see myself on the cover of it, but I'm far from thrilled.
There's no denying the photograph is beautiful. It's intimate. It shows me in a vulnerable light. In a way I very rarely show other people. I allowed Raphael in, showed him myself at my most vulnerable, and he exploited it. I shoot him a text, asking him why he did it. I hope he can tell I'm pissed about this. Despite our date going well, I'm not going to hide how I really feel about what he did.
The worst thing about the photo isn't the scar on my face, but all the others on my body.
Because I'm naked on the portrait, and Raphael has barely edited the photo, every little cut is obvious. I look awful. Crazy. Broken. I hate him for doing this to me.
I arrive back home in time for Raphael's reply. He's asking me out again, mentioning that Thai place he told me about on our last date. Furiously, I type back a reply.
You really think I'm going to forgive you for doing this? I can't believe your audacity.
Do you like the photo? he texts back, making me roll my eyes.
Doesn't matter. How'd you get in Void anyway? I thought those spreads book months in advance.
They saw the portrait and loved it. You should, too. So. Dinner?
If you think you can make me forget about this with one meal, you've got another thing coming.
We'll see after you try it, he replies. Best pad Thai in town, hands down. I'll pick you up. Seven p.m. No need to dress up, it's a casual place.
