Page 8 of The Sculptor

I turn and flash Langston a shy smile. “Are you planning to stay through the appointment?”

“Would you like me to?”

Gag. “I’d like to keep my transformation a surprise. If that’s okay with you?”

Somewhere from behind comes a low growling noise, but I ignore it, keeping my eyes trained on Langston as he puffs out his chest and drags his knuckles down mine slowly, lingering in the sensitive space between my breasts.

I fight the urge to slap his hand away. “Such a good girl,” he coos before looking over my shoulder at Duke. “Money is no object. Make her perfect—like someone you’d marry.”

Have you ever heard such swoony sweet nothings come out of a man? Seriously, I can’t put all the lucky stars in my pocket.

“That might be difficult,” says Duke, his voice raspier than I remember.

Whipping around, I knock Langston’s hand off my chest, training my heated gaze on Duke and the shitty smile he’s flashing me.

“I like my women curvier… and mouthier, but I’ll do my best with your…”

His smile falters—a tell-tell sign of his impending explosion—and manifests into an irritated jaw twitch.

Tick.

Tick.

But like a practiced aristocrat, he manages to pull his lips back into a smile that promises more than pleasantries. “…with your fiancée.”

A deep belly laugh erupts from Langston. “Never pick the mouthy ones, boy. They always end in a messy divorce.” He steps away, swatting me on the ass as he passes by. “Do what you can with her. I don’t expect a miracle.”

I close my eyes and swallow the urge to lose my shit on this man.

Remember why you’re here, Ramsey. This man is a means to an end. Whether it’s closure or a fresh start, Langston will end your pain, one way or another.

My eyes are still closed when I hear the soft click of the door, then silence. Langston has left.

Though, regretfully, even the relief of his departure doesn’t quell the knot in my stomach.

I can feel Duke’s penetrating gaze cut into my skin like glass, slowly chipping away at the walls I’ve built around myself.

Don’t be a coward. Face him, but don’t let him see past your lies.

Wrenching my eyes open, I face the only man I’ve ever loved. “I’ll need your help to unzip my dress.”

Just saying the words sends my heart pounding against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. “I wasn’t prepared for an…” I swallow as his fingers tighten into fists at his side.

Be brave.

I straighten, standing tall, and square my shoulders.

This is Duke.

His disapproval might make me cry later, but not right now. Right now, I’m going to be strong and finish what I started. Duke being here doesn’t change anything.

“I wasn’t prepared for an exam.” I tilt my chin higher, slowing my breathing to a steadier rhythm. “You’ll have to forgive my evening attire.”

The grandfather clock on the far wall is the only sound in the room. It’s still—stagnant, like the air is too thick to breathe.

“Are you going to answer me, Dr. Potter?”

I mean, really. I expect him to saysomething, not just stare at me.

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