Page 59 of Lamb

Dr. Michaels—Frankie, as the others liked to call him now—was egotistical, to the point it was to his detriment. A lesson I’d learned the hard way.

Donnie was… broken. Like the boy who grew up in a basement without a name. We had that in common. I just hid it better because my scars weren’t as easy to spot.

And Bugs… he’d sacrificed everything for the person who meant the most to him in the world. For him, that person was his brother. For me, it was Marisela. They reminded me of the worst parts of myself. The parts I hated. And missed.The parts I was smart enough to rise above and the parts I would tuck away until the time was right.

I just had to keep reminding my little lamb I was here, waiting, until that time came. I pulled out my phone, deciding a text was more appropriate than an email right now.

ME:

Did I ever tell you what I noticed about you first?

ME:

It was your hair. Long and dark, flowing down your back. Bouncing when you shoved past me. Some people would think you were stuck-up. Not me. All I could think was how do I get that girl’s attention? How do I make her see me? Do you see me, little lamb? Because I see you.

If I knew Marisela as well as I was certain I did, she would spend the afternoon sawing away at her curls. Short enough that the only thing to bounce would be the ass they no longer brushed against.

It would be just another sign that she was as affected as I was. You didn’t do shit like chopping off your hair out of spite unless you cared. And my guess was she cared more than either of us realized.

It was my guessandmy hope.

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MARISELA

Iknew what it looked like. It looked like I was seekinghimout. I wasn’t. I was merely curious. Bored. Complacent.Very married.

Honestly, I didn’t like the version of me I saw in the mirror anymore. The version I’d worked so hard to curate. The version that had become unrecognizable the longer I stared at it. All hard lines and jagged edges without any softness in sight. Nothing to use against me. Nothing to grab on to and control. Especially with the shorter bob that barely reached my shoulders.

I shook my head from side to side, the straightened ends brushing against my cheeks. I hated it. But I’d been impulsive. I needed a change. To be someone else if I couldn’t be myself. The thing about playing a part was that sooner or later you realized you weren’t playing anymore.

Because at some point, you’d crossed that line ofplayingand started becoming… And the person I’d become was stale and lifeless.

I dropped my red mask back over my head, fanning out my lighter locks so that they fell perfectly across the sides of my face. My matching lipstick just barely visible beneath the shadow of the protruding nose.

Adrian would recognize it. And me. But no one else would.

I pushed out of the ladies’ room door, the heady atmosphere of Original Sin greeting me on the other side. My heart nearly beating out of my chest as my eyes couldn’t help but scan the crowd.

It was like that first time all over again. It was also completely different. Like stepping into an alternate universe where both things could be true at the same time.

I stepped up to the bar and raised two fingers, only to have a double shot of bourbon dropped in front of me. I glanced at the glass, then back at the man who’d put it there.

“I didn’t order this…” I cocked my head at him. It was a condescending thing to do. I know. But it was a habit. Couldn’t stop myself if I tried.

“Courtesy of your friend.” The bartender gestured behind me. I didn’t have to look to know who it was, though. I could feel him. His glare on my exposed back, grazing lower to the barely-decent dip of the silky material that started just above my ass. Hugging each cheek so that one wrong move would give everyone an eyeful.

Sure, sometimes the fantasy was better than the reality.But not this time. Not when I’d had years to fill out. To embrace my curves and use them to my advantage.

He continued to study me for a moment, as I lifted the glass to my lips and took in the smokey flavor. Michter’s. I’d recognize it anywhere. It was my father’s favorite. It was also too expensive to be on the menu. Which told me it was fromDr. Lambert’sprivate stash.

I lifted a hand and ordered another. I’d drink the whole bottle, if only to spite him.

By the time I heard him step up to me, it was too late. His right hand was already around my waist while his left shifted the bourbon from my lips to his own before he lowered his mouth to my ear. “It’s good. But your cunt tastes better.”

I slid onto the closest bar stool, spreading my thighs wide enough to glide a fingertip over my pussy, coating my skin up to my knuckle. Then I raised my hand to my lips and licked it clean.

“You’re right. It does. Too bad I don’t share.” I swiped my glass back and downed the rest of the contents before Adrian could stop me.

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