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I was already consumed by lust.
When I’m around Aurora, lust seems to supersede everything. It opens the doors to the wide halls of temptation, and like a fool, I run straight inside.
Last night, I don’t know what pushed me over the line, kissing her, acting like a couple for the cameras, or knowing I wasn’t really acting.
When I kissed her, I was really kissing her, and when we got back, all I wanted to do was bury myself balls deep inside her.
I nearly did.
A dark soul like me touching a woman so hallowed and perfect is hardly any different from rubbing tar over Michelangelo’s paintings in the Sistine Chapel.
Like so many things I do, I knew everything I wanted from her was wrong, but I selfishly indulged my desire.
She was ready to give herself to me. It was a twist on my game that she wanted me too.
And now?
Now Aurora truly hates me.
She thought I was playing with her, but I stopped myself from going further because I didn’t want to complicate things any more than they are, or blur lines that need to stay firm between us.
This is business, a game of thrones where kings fight each other to conquer power. Sunset Cove is my ticket to get what I want. Without it, I don’t have Park Avenue, and everything I’ve done over the last two weeks would be for nothing.
With the declaration out there that I’ll be taking over the Park Avenue branch, I can’t afford to slip up and give my father and Bastian the opening they seek to get me out of the picture.
That aside, even if I weren’t selling Sunset Cove, I couldn’t even contemplate giving Aurora a chance to implement her mother’s designs in the renovations because I genuinely loathe the idea of a forties-themed resort.
I completely disagree that we should bank on the history in such a way, and I truly don’t believe it would suit the Hamptons. It needs a French Provincial touch with a cosmopolitan edge to make it trendy. I’ve already contacted my team in France who can make that happen.
There is no room for any other designs or ideas but my own, so it’s better for Aurora to hate me now.
Better for us both, but for me in other ways too.
Awakening my taste for a woman who reminds me of my ghost is not my wisest of moves. The sculptures surrounding me are testament of that. They—all of them—are reminders I must never be that version of myself again.
Definitely not when I can admit that I’ve never lost myself to anyone the way I do when I’m with Aurora.
After what I went through with my ghost, I never expected to meet a woman who could have such an effect on me, and in so little time.
That’s something I don’t want.
When it comes to Aurora, there are also secrets between us that I don’t want to feel guilty for if they were ever to resurface.
Poseidon runs up to me and brushes against my leg, a signal that I’ve been in here for too long and it’s time to go for a walk.
He’s right. I’ve been in here for hours. I went to work today to sign off some contracts, and when I got back, I came straight in here.
Art is my medicine.
Jericho and I inherited the talent from our mother.
Like her, I’ve always been into sculpting, but Jericho loved tattoo design.
He did all the artwork on my back. I did everything else. The two of us had the time of our lives when we had that tattoo parlor, but then we outgrew it, and Grandfather summoned us to the world of Wall Street.
Jericho still does tattoos for the odd client—mostly women who use an excuse to see him again—but I keep my love for art going by showcasing a few pieces every year in my mother’s gallery. I do it for her too. It would break her heart if I ever stopped.
I don’t think either of us ever have to worry about that. I imagine myself old and gray and still finding something to sculpt.
