Page 49 of Break Me Beautifully

"Because I genuinely love your work," he answers. His eyes warm over as he squares off with me, talking in the same gentle voice he uses with me in private. My stomach flexes in disgust. "You're amazing, Leona. I really believe that."

"Do you think that's supposed to make me feel better?" I snap. His eyebrows shoot up, features twisting in concern, but it's not his turn to feel confused or hurt.

Bradford is over this situation. I can see it in his bored face. "You've got a lot of growing up to do, Leona. Think about it. Your art will sell for more than you'd ever get as a newbie. This city would eat you alive, but thanks to me, thanks to Klintock, your art will hang on the walls of prominent men and women in positions of authority all over the world! Who cares if those people might dip their toes into illicit dealings? Money is money."

I cared. I really, really cared.

But I cared more that Marshall had hid this from me.

"Excuse me," I say, ducking my head, spinning towards the exit. "I need some air."

A ring-adorned hand circles my upper arm—Bradford. "Hold on," he barks, his eyes narrowing. "You better not be thinking of doing anything you'd regret."

I tug to get away, but he holds tight. "What do you mean?"

"You try to go to the cops," he growls, squeezing until I flinch, "And I promise, you'll lose more than some grand future making it as an artist, do you understand? I get even a hint you're—"

"Bradford," Marshall says calmly, his own hand clasping onto the other man's shoulder from behind. "Relax. She's not going to the cops." He levels a serious look at me from over the other man's head. "Leona is smarter than that."

It's as plain of a warning as I've ever gotten. Chills roll down my spine. In my haze of betrayal, I avoided letting the truth of this situation sink in. This was about more than just being used. It was how I was being used.

Marshall had told me in detail about how he'd been punished for causing trouble with the mafia when he was a kid. I wasn't a child; they wouldn't go easy on me if I put their operation at risk.

Both men break away, leaving space between all of us. Min is watching with wide owl eyes, her hands clamped together at her waist. "I'm not going to talk to the cops," I say. It's easy to sound like I mean it, because I do. I'm brokenhearted and furious at the man I stupidly declared my love to. That same stupidity won't allow me to put his life in danger by running to the police. I'm as mired in this plot as all of them.

Bradford frowns thoughtfully. "If you're not back here in time for the show, I'll send someone searching for you. Trust me, neither of us wants that."

"Thanks. I get it." With a final, scathing glare at Marshall, I storm towards the door. I can see the white daylight through the glass, the promise of freedom from this god-awful situation I've found myself in. Footsteps behind me alert me that someone is following me. It's Marshall. I know it even before he reaches for my hand, because I can smell him in the air.

I spin out of his reach. "Don't!" I hiss. "Don't you dare touch me. You're trash scum, do you get that?"

"Leona, wait," he pleads.

"No. I should have listened to my sister. Jesus, I should have listened toyouwhen you said you were dangerous!"

"Just wait, I need to talk to you."

"You had a chance to do that!" I shout, unable to hold back my rage. I can see Min and Bradford watching us across the room. I don't care that we have an audience. "You could have warned me what this was!"

He locks up on the spot. There's a flash of something in his face—regret, I think—and good, he should feel awful for what he's done. His pain barely reaches my heart.

Barely.

"Leona," he starts, his voice hushed. "I ..."

"Save it for the next girl you take advantage of." Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. I fight them back, determined to stay strong as I get everything off my chest. "You played with me. You don't even care, do you?"

He shoots a furtive look at the others. His tongue moves along his lip, over his scar, and I remember how wonderful it was to kiss him. "It's complicated."

"No, it isn't. You used me. Right?"

"Leona."

"Tell me the truth. We're too far to go back in time. Did you use me?"

Again, that flicker of pain in his beautiful features. "Yes."

It's what I was expecting and at the same time, I wanted him to deny it. I'm pathetic to think he'd say anything else. "In your defense," I say, making a bitter smile, "you did warn me."

---