Chapter 6
ALEX
After my art show sold out, I received a phone call from Arlo’s assistant. Aiden and I decided to move out of Wellington Manor. Our grandparents’ mansion was cold and unwelcoming. We wanted a place we could make our own.
Arlo had insisted I live close by so we could get started on the Franco Foundation project. He had convinced the homeowner to rent to Aiden and me for next to nothing as long as we promised not to have wild parties and water the plants.
The Carpenters lived abroad most of the year and were not expected to return until the following year. By then, we figured we would know if we wanted to stay on a more permanent basis.
With the top down on my convertible, wind blew through my hair as I drove up the steep incline and pulled into our new driveway.
Aiden climbed out of the car and raced to the trunk to grab our bags. “Home sweet home.”
My brother leaned over the open window to grab the key from the cup holder, and then we made our way to the front door.
He glanced up at the house and smiled. “This place is perfect.”
“We’re finally free, Aid. We can paint all day and night without interruption.”
Unlike my grandfather’s mansion, the house was ungated, a modest Colonial-style home with many windows and blue shutters.
Neither of us wanted to stay with Pops and our grandmonster.
We’d spent enough summers under the same roof as Blaire Wellington and would have rather eaten glass than listen to her bitch and moan about us all day.
Aiden jammed the key into the lock and pushed the front door open. We stumbled into a large foyer, the floors solid wood throughout. To our left was a massive living room with a U-shaped leather couch, an ottoman table, and a huge flat-screen television hung on the wall.
We veered toward the right and entered a game room filled with old-school pinball and arcade machines.
“Get the fuck out of here. Lexie, they got the original Pacman.” Aiden dropped our bags and the floor and strolled over to the machine, hitting the button to play. “You don’t even need quarters. Shit, this is awesome.”
“There’s an art studio at the back of the house.”
As his eyes roamed around the rest of the room, his face lit up with childlike excitement. “Salvatore hooked us up big time.”
“Arlo insisted we come over tonight for dinner. You can thank him in person.”
He gritted his teeth. “Will Luca be there?”
“Who knows? I haven’t talked to him since my art exhibition.”
“I hate that you like him.”
“I don’t,” I lied.
“C’mon, Lexie. I was born a minute and a half after you, not yesterday. You can lie to Luca and yourself, but I know you have a thing for him. I saw you holding his hand at the gallery.”
Blush spread across my cheeks. “I was nervous. He comforted me.”
His eyebrows tipped up in question. “I know you better than anyone. You like Luca.”
I scoffed at his comment. “Absolutely not.”
“You’ve kissed him.”
“So. You’ve kissed more girls than I can count.”
He rolled his shoulders and grinned. “I’m a slut, what can I say? But you’re not. And that’s the type of woman Luca wants.”
“How do you know what he wants?”
“Because I’m a guy. We know things.”
I snorted with laughter. “Go back to playing your video game and stay out of my love life.”
He chuckled, his back to me as he slapped the button on the machine.
* * *
A few hours later, we drove to the Salvatore Estate for dinner.
It was fall, and with the chill rolling off the bay, I paired my red cocktail dress with a light jacket.
I made Aiden wear black slacks, a polo shirt, and boots.
He was not happy about ditching his usual jeans and T-shirts, but he had to act like a grownup at some point.
We parked in front of a garage on the estate that housed at least ten cars. My BMW 8 Series convertible was the shittiest of the bunch. From what I could tell, there wasn’t a single car on the property valued at less than two hundred thousand dollars.
Ferrari, Lamborghini, Aston Martin, and Maserati. A sense of dread filled my belly when I realized all the Salvatore brothers were home.
“He’s here,” I said to Aiden, eying Luca’s Aston Martin Vantage as we approached the front door.
“Just be careful, Lexie. We already know he bites. So watch out. That’s all I’m saying.”
Before we could ring the bell, the door swung open. A middle-aged man with dark hair and a black suit greeted us with pursed lips and an intense stare. He looked as intimidating and scary as the rest of the assholes who lived here.
As we stepped inside the house, the thought of seeing Luca made me feel slightly giddy and anxious, like a girl with a crush. I liked Luca, even though I spent most of the time hating how he made me feel.
Damn it.
My brother was right.
Aiden grabbed my hand and followed the man down the tiled hallway. I squeezed his fingers, seeking his warmth. He always seemed to know when I needed him.
It was our twin thing.
Loud voices floated into the hallway from the formal dining room, where all five Salvatore men sat around a dining table large enough to host The Last Supper. Arlo was at the head, Luca on his right, and Marcello on his left. Bastian and Damian took their usual spots at Luca’s side.
My heels clacked on the tiled floor as we entered the room. All conversation ceased, and they snapped their heads in our direction. Bastian and Damian gave me their usual bored stares, while Marcello didn’t even bother to glance up from his phone.
Arlo offered a quick welcome.
Luca rose from his chair and closed the distance between us, hooking his arm around my back to pull me into a firm hug. “How are you settling into your new house?”
“We love it. I’m lucky I got Aiden to stop playing video games long enough to shower and dress.”
“I haven’t seen old-school Pac-Man and Street Fighter since I was a kid,” Aiden said.
Luca glanced over my shoulder at my brother. “I thought you might like those.”
Aiden’s eyes widened. “You did that?”
“Just something we had in storage.” He took my hand, leading me to his side of the table, and pulled out my chair. “Glad you like them.”
Aiden sat at my side and glanced at Arlo. “Thanks for hooking us up with the house, Mr. Salvatore. The fully stocked bar in the game room was a nice touch.”
“No problem,” Arlo said. “Your sister is quite the commodity. I couldn’t have her living in squalor over in Beggar’s Bay.”
Commodity? Interesting choice of words.
The houses in Beacon Bay were like my childhood home. But compared to the Salvatores’ wealth, which paralleled that of a small country, anyone under a billion dollars in net worth was poor.
“The house is perfect for us.” I smiled. “Thank you.”
Arlo’s jaw flexed. “You refuse to spend the money in your trust accounts, which doesn’t leave you many choices.”
Aiden tensed at my side. “How do you know that?”
My stomach knotted as I digested Arlo’s words. We were way out of our depth with the Salvatores.
“I know a lot of things about you and your sister.”
An eerie chill rolled down my arms.
“We don’t want blood money,” Aiden shot back.
A creepy but interested expression crossed Arlo’s face. “Is that what you think of your grandfather?”
“We don’t need his money.”
“Street art must pay better than I thought,” Arlo said with a cocky attitude.
Bastian and Damian snickered. Marcello stared across the table at us, observing our reactions. Luca sat at my side, expressionless.
Aiden squeezed my fingers under the table. I patted the top of his hand to soothe him. He didn’t want to come to dinner for this exact reason. The Salvatores had never shown an ounce of respect toward my brother. Luca was trying with the video games, but Arlo constantly challenged him.
“We have the money from my exhibition,” I told Arlo. “We’ll be okay for a while.”
“Yes, I heard you sold out. Your first showing was quite a remarkable feat. Even Evangeline didn’t do that well, and she was the hottest up-and-coming name.”
My heart sunk to my stomach faster than an anchor hitting the ocean floor. Without words, his expression said, “Did you really think you were better than her?”
It.
Was.
All.
A.
Lie.
Arlo sipped from his glass. “Did you ever find out who bought all of your pieces?”
“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.” His hand moved 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 insufficient 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. I blinked a few times, my vision fuzzy from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. Bile 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 and muttered, “Excuse me.”
I rushed out of the dining room and bolted toward the front door, desperate for air.
“Lexie,” Aiden yelled down the hallway.
I spun around to face him, trying to keep the contents of my stomach from spilling onto their perfectly polished floor.
“Let’s go,” Aiden said with his hand on my back. “Fuck all of them. Seriously. 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 I met Luca.”
“This is their way of getting back at Pops. We can leave the house behind and go home.”
Our parents still lived in our childhood home in the Midwest. The thought of going back there made my stomach ache.
“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.”
As I opened the front door, Luca called out my name. I ran out of the house as if it were on fire, furious with him for controlling my life.