Page 119 of The King of Hearts

“It doesn’t matter if he likes it or not. This is now my house as well, and I’ll invite whomever I please.”

Lili grins, and her dimples pop out. “Maybe I’ll get to meet him next time.”

I check the time on my phone. “He should have already been home. He was due thirty minutes ago.”

After a hug from Harper and a loud smacking kiss on my cheek, I wave them off. Marcelo will take them back to my parents’ house before coming back here. I’m really glad they stopped for a visit. I haven’t seen them since I moved out. Theone time I visited my parents after the coffee shop incident, they were taking a nap.

I walk toward the back of the estate where my art studio is. I’ll spend some time there while I wait for Ryker to return. I’m working on a particular piece that I’m excited to finish. Originally, I had planned to submit it to an erotic art gallery on the mainland, but now I don’t know if I want to let it go. It’s a bit too risqué to display in the estate, but I might keep it for my private collection.

Mrs. Myers left for the grocery store a bit ago, so the kitchen is empty when I pass through it. There’s a plate on the island piled high with her latest macarons. I smile as I grab one of the lavender-colored cookies.

“Mmm… raspberry,” I mumble around a bite.

I stuff the rest in my mouth and push open the glass doors to my studio. I love this room. The sun is out in full force today, so the room is brightly lit. It’s actually a little too bright, so I press a button on the panel beside the door, and the self-tinting glass begins to darken. Once it’s at the right tint, I release the button.

I go straight for the canvas sitting on the easel, and carefully pull off the thin piece of fabric that’s draped over it. Ryker is the only person who sees these types of my paintings. One night, while we were lounging in bed, after he fucked me to near unconsciousness, he informed me that he had been in my studio at my parents’ house and saw my erotic art. Surprisingly, I wasn’t mad. Maybe it was because it was no shock that he had seen them. He knew every aspect of my life. Even the parts that happened before he knew me. It wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d invaded that part, too. Or maybe it was because, for the first time, someone other than me had laid eyes on my secret art. I had never had the courage to show anyone before. I knew my paintings and drawings were good, but I was reluctant to sharethem with anyone. They were, and still are, my private thoughts and fantasies.

Ryker was impressed and praised my talent, then demanded I show him everything I had ever drawn. I did. I haven’t shown him this one yet, though, and I made him promise not to peek until it’s completed. He likes to visit sometimes while I’m working, so I keep the easel pointing away from the entrance.

My eyes run over the scene in front of me. It’s my recollection of the night of the ball on the terrace. It’s only half complete. The outline of the church is there, along with part of the terrace railing. The main focus of the painting is the man standing with his feet planted apart, dressed in a black tux and a black mask. His head is tilted down, his eyes on the woman on her knees in front of him. I’ve only drawn my head and shoulders so far. My head is tipped back, my lips slightly parted, as I stare up at him. I’m damn proud of myself for capturing the pure lust in my eyes. It perfectly matches the feeling I felt that night. I can’t wait to show Ryker once it’s finished. And something tells me, even if I did decide to sell the piece, he wouldn’t let me.

I walk over to the table that holds all of my acrylic paints and brushes. I’m rifling through the brushes, looking for a particular one, when I feel a presence at my back. A smile tips the corner of my lips, and I drop the brush I’m holding.

I realize too late that something isn’t right. It’s not Ryker’s oceanic scent that fills my senses, but something darker, spicier, unfamiliar. In the next second, something pricks the side of my neck. I spin around, but whatever was just shot into me is fast-acting. My knees go weak, and my vision blurs. But I see well enough to recognize the face staring back at me.

A familiar face. One who’s hurt me many times over, but never in this way.

“Ryker?” I whisper just as blackness swallows me whole.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

HIM

Something is different. Aunt Rosa has been acting weird all day. Big smiles and there’s a secret in her eyes. Before she left for a couple of hours earlier today, she told me she had a special surprise for me. I don’t like Aunt Rosa’s surprises. She can keep them.

I’m in the library with my mother, sitting at the table she always sits at. Her nurse, Mrs. Lockwood, is feeding her little bites of pork roast and mashed potatoes, while I’m on the other side of the table picking at my food. I was hungry when I first came into the room, but then I saw Aunt Rosa out in the hall, and it turned my stomach. Now I just want to throw up the little bit of food I ate.

Mrs. Lockwood wipes my mother’s chin when a little bit of mashed potatoes dribbles out of her mouth. Sometimes the nurse will let me feed my mother, and I feel so special when I do. I feel like a big man taking care of his mother. I didn’t askher if I could today though. My hands are too jittery because of the way Aunt Rosa is acting.

It’s getting dark outside, which means Mrs. Lockwood will be putting my mother to bed soon, and she’ll go to sleep in the room next to it. Mrs. Myers and the rest of the staff will go to their rooms as well. Then the house will go quiet.

I want to crawl into my mother’s bed tonight, to feel her arms wrapped around me. I used to feel safe when I did that, but I haven’t since the night Aunt Rosa caught me in her room. I haven’t been back since then.

Mrs. Lockwood sets the fork down on my mother’s empty plate, and I know what that means. I want to beg the nurse not to take her away. I want to beg her to stay and not leave me alone. Since Aunt Rosa came to live with us a few years ago, she became my caretaker, so it’s up to her to put me to bed. The staff doesn’t know what my aunt does to me once she has me in my room.

“Come say good night to your mother, dear,” Mrs. Lockwood says.

My shoulders are slumped as I get up from my seat and go to my mother’s chair. Mrs. Lockwood has turned it away from the table, so I lean over and kiss her warm cheek. “I love you, Mother. Good night.”

I almost can’t get the words out because my throat feels tight, like there’s something inside it.

“Are you okay?” Mrs. Lockwood asks. “You didn’t eat much of your food.”

I’m not okay. I feel sick to my stomach, and I wish Aunt Rosa would die. I don’t think anyone would say it’s ‘okay’ to feel that way.

I nod and say, “Yes. I snuck a snack earlier from the kitchen, so I’m not very hungry.”

She smiles, and it makes her eyes crinkle at the corners. “Typical boy.” She grabs the bars on the back of my mother’s chair and turns her to face the doorway. “I’ll let your aunt know that you’re finished eating.”

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