Page 41 of Beautifully Deranged

“Thanks,” I say flatly. Like I just paid him for a service.

His expression shifts into something darker.

“This isn’t over,” he says through his teeth. “You can pretend it meant nothing, but—”

“It didn’t mean anything,” I snap. “I was horny. You were there. Easy. Convenient.” I was never the type to forgive. Forget? Even worse.

“I’ll get you back,” he promises.

I let out a breath that’s halfway between a laugh and a scoff. “Good luck.”

He kisses my cheek roughly and heads for the door.

“Mikhail,” I call as he’s about to leave.

He stops. Turns. A little too hopeful.

“You owe me someone to clean this shit up.” I gesture to the flowers.

His jaw ticks. “I’ll have Lara take care of it. She’ll be there soon.”

Lara.

My stomach knots up. Of course it’s her.

I grab the closest thing, one of the fat candles from the table, and chuck it at the door he just walked out of. It hits hard. Wax splatters everywhere.

Fucking Lara.

I hate him.

God, I hate him so much.

?Chapter Twenty?

Lola

I trip over a canvas. Again. “Fuck.”

My fingers cramp, my back aches, and I swear, if I smell turpentine one more time, I’ll lose my goddamn mind. Canvases lean against every available surface. Half-dried paintings are stacked in chaotic piles. My workstation is cluttered with brushes I haven’t even had time to clean. I need to finish these commissions. I need to send them off.

I groan, rubbing my temples, stepping over another goddamn painting when—

A shadow moves.

Ice crawls up my spine as my gaze snaps to the figure standing in the middle of my goddamn apartment.

Mikhail.

My lungs seize before everything explodes out of me at once. “What the fuck?!” I scream, grabbing the nearest thing—a paintbrush. Useless, but it’s something. “Will you stop sneaking into my apartment?”

“I knocked.”

“No, you fucking didn’t!”

His lips twitch. “Not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

I throw the paintbrush at him. He dodges it, looking mildly entertained. I am going to kill him.

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