Epilogue
Three Months later
“You’re so fidgety and it’s not even your show.”
I laugh at Jacinda. The light has returned to her eyes after the ordeal we went through. She’s not like she was before, but then again, none of us are. There will always be some degree of shadows in her eyes, much like mine and Kami’s, I’d imagine.
Her tall, intense husband comes up behind her and smiles, holding her around the waist. The big, muscular man with white-blond hair and tattoos covering each hand looks at her adoringly.
He reminds me of Stone with his tattoos and intensity.
When he brushes aside her colorful locs and kisses her neck just before he whispers in her ear, she giggles, blushing.
I know that blush. It’s what happens every time my man touches me.
It’s the reason I’m so fidgety while I wait on the curb, dying to hear the familiar rumble of his powerful engine.
I should be focused on the crowd of people walking through my gallery, oohing and aahing over the gorgeous art hanging all over the walls.
It’s been four days since he left for a road trip north on a scouting mission with Riggs and Onyx, and I can’t wait to see him.
Jacinda’s twin, Julian, approaches with two glasses of champagne, handing her one, but I shake my head, refusing. I’m sick to my stomach with nerves and anticipation for tonight’s show. He had better not be late. I’ll kill him.
After Jacinda was rescued, she didn’t feel ready to host her show, wanting to mentally heal.
Like me, her art was a part of that healing process.
She finally told me yesterday that she was ready, and I couldn’t be more excited to host her new revamped show in two months.
Her installations are even more complex, focusing on her captivity and exploring themes of imprisonment and freedom.
She told me how cathartic it has been to create, leaning into the horrors of being held captive and assaulted.
I touch my neck, a frequent habit, remembering how cathartic it has been for me to create something from my scars.
I look around and spot Kami hanging out behind the receptionist’s desk.
She looks so different from the night we were all kidnapped.
Her beautiful twists are gone. She now wears it cut short, her black curls low to her head.
I haven’t had the chance to ask her about it, as I didn’t want to push.
I have a feeling it has something to do with the ten weeks she was held hostage in Canada.
For a long time, even after I reunited with Stone, I didn’t think Riggs or Jacqueline would find her.
We were all starting to lose hope when Quinten Jacobs, a man who works for Silas and Caleb Edwards, was able to locate her.
By then, she was near death, starved and brutalized.
It’s been only two months since Jacqueline texted us that Kami had been found. The extent of her injuries is still unknown to us because, since she’s been back, she hasn’t talked about it. She is no longer the young girl I remembered. She was terrified of everything and withdrew into herself.
Jacinda and I have visited her at her new apartment a few times.
There’s a shared bond over what happened.
She doesn’t talk much, but Jacinda and I think that our presence helps her feel better.
She’s also grown closer to the man who rescued her.
And from what I saw earlier. Quinten wants more than friendship with Kami.
I hope it works out because it would be nice to see my friend smile again.
I can’t imagine what happened to her while she was being held.
She’s just started therapy, and I’m proud of her.
Jacinda also mentioned going to treatment for PTSD since she said she’s been having trouble sleeping.
“Girl, that art is something else. It’s so sensual and erotic. And those leather pieces? I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
Turning at the sound of her voice, I smile at Lara. She’s home from her residence in Sweden for a few days, and last night all the girls had dinner where Lara gushed about work, her new book, and, of course, how in love she was with Sloane. “You like them?”
“I love them. I may need one to hang in our bedroom. The one where the man’s hands are around the woman’s throat, and his thumb is in her mouth. Jesus. I think I need that for my office.”
I laugh at her bright pink cheeks, set against her face full of freckles.
We are just a bunch of blushing women around here.
And who can blame her? Sloane Alexander fits right in with the other men in our lives.
We’ve all heard tales of how he used Lara’s antique desk, with her on it, naked, to teach Lara’s ex a lesson about neglecting a woman’s needs.
I’m all for her hanging semi-erotic art in her office.
I know a thing or two about it since I can’t stop drawing, painting, or sculpting one particular man’s chest, arms, face, legs, and yes, dick.
His dick has become one of my favorite subjects.
Getting all those piercings just right takes practice and a lot of close-up inspection.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning aloud.
I can’t wait to taste him. It’s been way too long.
With that thought in mind, I turn and look back down the street. Still no sign of him.
“Aren’t you coming inside?”
Lara’s question interrupts my train of thought. “I will in a little bit. Just waiting.”
Lara nods and heads back inside, where Sloane is holding open the door for her.
Once she reaches him, he slides his big hand over her ass, slapping it before kissing her mouth.
She stands on tiptoes in her funky polka dot heels and returns the carnal kiss.
Lucky. I should be getting my ass slapped, but the hand I want slapping me is late; over an hour late. I dial his phone, and still no answer.
Hanging up, I blink when I see one car I recognize pull into the parking lot.
My brother slows his jeep, opens the driver’s side door, and climbs out.
His gait barely shows that he’s wearing his prosthetic.
He looks fit and healthy. He is still struggling with his injury and the accident that killed his friends, but I’m glad that working as the new CEO of our father’s company is giving him back purpose and drive.
What does surprise me is when a beautiful blonde woman with a flirty bob climbs out of the passenger seat.
Adam scowls when he rounds the engine. He says something I can’t hear to her, but the gorgeous woman shrugs and casually walks ahead of him right into my gallery.
Adam’s hands are clenched, but I see the way he stares at her ass in that tight gray skirt.
Interesting, as Jace would say. I think it’s his Administrative Assistant, Johanna.
Jace did say Adam is not happy with her working for him.
I wonder why. I love my brother, but his grouchy attitude could probably use some adjustment.
The sound of a bike makes my body shiver, and I crane my neck.
He’s home. Disappointment fills me when I see that it’s Onyx riding down the street, followed by Riggs with Jacqueline riding on the back of his bike.
Her hands are wrapped around his waist, and his hand is on her thigh.
She promised to share what happened with her and Riggs while they were hunting for Kami, but so far, she’s been MIA.
My shoulders slump when I don’t see another bike. Fuck. He must have gotten delayed. I take out my phone and call him, antsy, but it goes right to voicemail.
“Shit.”
I head back inside, where most of the guests are waiting, moving to the reception desk.
Everyone is milling around, looking at the art.
Art critics are here. Members of his club are here.
Jace and Sophia are here, with Jace holding baby Valentina strapped to his chest. Dru and Silas are walking around, and Dru is pointing at the paintings and nodding her head while Silas is shaking his.
My father is even here. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but when he showed up and nodded at me as he walked through the gallery, I took that to mean that maybe, finally, he was accepting that this was my life.
Either way, I’m over trying to please him.
He can think of me anyway he wants. I no longer care about his approval.
“The artist is incredible.”
Alejandra Munoz lifts her glass of champagne and watches me. “I want at least three in my house as soon as possible. Christ it’s good. Like Brom but even more sensually morbid.”
Thrilled, I hold in my need to do a twirl. “Which three?”
“Succubus, Cherry Smoke and Phoenix’s Passion.”
I smirk because those three are my favorites, too.
Each one is of me. Drawn with a particular moment with Stone in mind.
“Those are good. You’d better hurry. I think someone else has their eye on Cherry Smoke,” I murmur.
Sophia has already claimed that she wants it, despite Jace’s protest. I still chuckle at the memory of his response.
“It’s alluding to my sister getting smoke blown up her–”
“Pussy?” Sophia asked innocently as she helped me hang the art.
“No! Don’t say it!” Jace looked green and shook his head violently as he practically ran out of the gallery.
I laughed so hard I almost peed. When I had wiped my tears, Sophia leaned in. “Did he really blow the smoke inside you and then eat you out?”
I nodded, smiling dreamily at the painting where the woman’s legs were open, held in place by a set of veiny hands.
His fingers dig into the skin of her inner thighs.
There’s an illusion that the female’s hands are playing with her pussy.
The smoke curls between her legs, acting as a screen. I’ll never forget it.
“Don’t you dare accept any other offers but mine.”