Page 125 of A Taste like Sin
case. There was evidence that admittedly wasn’t allowed to be presented to the jury. Other suspects
that deserve to be questioned. This terrible ordeal has helped my family to realize that Mathias Villa
also deserves justice, no matter where its harsh light may shine. In that event, on behalf of my father, I
suspend his campaign for mayor—as well as withdraw any endorsements that may have been granted
on our behalf.”
An audible gasp rises from the crowd.
“My father’s record may not be perfect,” I add, forcing myself to keep going. “We thought he was a
hero, but he is only human. Therefore, I’m calling for an inquiry into all his past cases, extending to
his time as a defense attorney. I think it was his intention before his health failed. The truth must come
out into the open, no matter who it may touch. My father may be human, but some men become
monsters. Thank you.”
I turn away as the throng of reporters erupts, issuing a barrage of questions. It should be harder than it
is to ignore them. Luckily, Julio serves as an effective barrier, falling into step behind me as I escape
via the residential wing and enter my suite.
“I’ll be out front, Ms. Thorne,” he warns before retreating to his chosen end of the hall.
I enter my suite and shrug my coat off, tossing it aside. Sighing, I move to the couch, observing the
view. From here Damien’s painting is a chilling distraction from even the breathtaking landscape of
the city stretched beyond it. The woman eyes me warily, her empty gaze a warning.This is what he
could do to you.
Hollow.
But wait… Her irises are darker, swollen, her lips bitten red. Long, dark hair cascades down her
shoulders as she writhes upon a bed of tiny white flowers. Oleander.
The painter exposed her entire body in microscopic focus. Her breasts. Her hips. The jagged scar
along her thigh. Vulnerability exudes from her, matching the rigid posture of his previous muses. But
there’s a strength to this woman that sets her apart. A stubborn tilt to her chin. A sternness in her
mouth. The artist tried desperately to capture as much of her soul as he could—but it was only a
fraction. She holds on to her secrets, daring him to capture what little he could. Daring him to crave
more.
It’s so beautiful. So raw…
I don’t realize I’m not alone until it’s too late. Footsteps rush toward me as pain rips through my
