Page 156 of Kissing the Villain

“You never cared about Aiden and me, never showed us an ounce of love.”

A moment passed before her eyes met mine. “I never wanted children.”

I’d always known the truth, but hearing it aloud didn’t make it hurt any less. My life had been hell for years because of her. She stole a mother from her children and abused her flesh and blood. The woman standing beside me didn’t deserve an ounce of pity. She deserved whatever Arlo was doing to her in secret.

I hated her, but in some ways, she was a victim. We were both pawns in a sick game with rich assholes. Her father had arranged her marriage to Arlo, which made her feel like a prisoner.

A young, pretty brunette appeared in the entryway to the ballroom and cleared her throat. “Mrs. Channing,” she said to my mom, who had a different last name from Aiden and me.

The woman looked at me. “Miss Wellington, Mrs. Du Bois looks forward to meeting you. Please follow me.”

After the meeting,we entered Wellington Architecture and Design through the back door. We hadn’t spoken a word on our drive back from the Du Bois Estate, and our brief moment of honesty evaporated the second we met with the client.

My mom turned left toward her office, and I veered to the right.

Marcello entered my office with his phone in hand. After the last threat, he hadn’t let me out of his sight.

He glanced up from the screen. “How did the meeting go?”

“I start the restoration in a few weeks.”

“Do you have enough time with your upcoming exhibit and my mother’s twentieth-anniversary showcase?”

“I’m almost finished with the pieces for my exhibit. And I know what I’m doing for your mom’s show. It shouldn’t takemore than a few weeks to complete. Mrs. Du Bois seems pretty laid back. She’s not in a rush to get the restoration done.”

“You have an hour to finish up,” he told me. “Luca wants you in the house before the sun sets.”

I rolled my eyes and let out an exaggerated groan.

“It’s for your protection,” he added. “Not because Luca is an asshole.”

I sat at the drafting table and flipped through my cell phone until I found an old-school Eminem playlist. Marcello was a rock music fan but was used to Luca’s music and didn’t seem to mind the rap beat floating through the speakers.

After a while, I got lost in my element, singing the words as my pencil glided across the page. I clutched a piece of vine charcoal and sketched the thin lines between the Wanamakers’ living room windows. My mom had asked me to draw ideas for the redesign.

Bobbing my head to the beat, I added a few final touches to my drawing. I lifted the pictures of the house, my eyes darting between the images. A proud smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I slipped the pages into the folder and slid off the stool.

Marcello stood outside my office with his back against the wall. I was in the zone and hadn’t noticed he left the room.

He pushed off the wall when he saw me in the doorway. “Ready to leave?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I told him.

“We’re leaving afterward.”

“Okay, boss,” I joked before walking down the hallway.

As I rounded the corner, I heard voices in my mother’s office. My father had left after lunch to meet with new clients and hadn’t returned. So, who the hell was with her?

A shiver rolled down my arms as I cracked her door. Arlo Salvatore towered over my mother, tall and handsome for a manhis age. She was on her knees in front of him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked up at the monster in Brioni.

“Take out my cock,” Arlo ordered, his tone cold and cruel.

My mouth fell open in shock.

She unzipped his pants, and Arlo’s massive cock sprung from his boxers.Holy shit!Mom wrapped her fingers around his thickness, and my eyes widened at his impressive length and girth. His sons inherited more than good looks from their father.

“Suck my cock, Wellington whore,” he growled, shoving his hand through her hair. He slid his fingers beneath her chin and squeezed with his free hand. “Don’t act like you don’t want this, you dirty slut. You would do anything for money.” His thumb slid across her bottom lip. “Isn’t that right, Scar? What wouldn’t you do for money?”

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