Page 67 of Vicious Temptation

“Who’s your friend?” he asks, like I’m not standing right in front of him.

“He’s with me.”

She doesn’t call me her friend or even bother to give him my name. I’m just someone she brought along, and for some reason, I hate how much that distinction bothers me.

“Oh, okay.” He reaches under the counter and tosses her a set of keys. “Lock up when you’re done. Your client said he’ll be here in about ten.”

“Got it.”

“He must trust you,” I say as we head to one of the back rooms.

“Why wouldn’t he?” she replies casually. “I’ve known Lachlan for two years now. He’s cool.”

I pick up one of the portfolios on the workstation and start flipping through it. The artwork stops me after only a few pages, and I wonder if it belongs to Remi. Her linework is incredibly clean, and each design is detailed enough that I find myself slowing down to study them.

“This is your work?”

“My mom’s an artist,” she says, and the answer surprises me. “I always wanted to be like her, so I practiced and eventually fell in love with making pretty things.”

Her fingers trail across the edge of the portfolio. “Only my canvas happens to be skin.”

“You’re really good,” I tell her, flipping another page. “Amazing, actually.”

“I know,” she says so casually that it catches me off guard, and I laugh.

“Glad we don't have to worry about your confidence.”

She grins. “Never a problem.”

“Maybe someday I’ll need a new piece.”

She doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t say no either.

I take the chance and lightly brush the back of my hand against the sleeve of her jacket. “You do any of these yourself?”

“No. Lachlan’s done most of them. One was done by my brother.”

I know exactly who she means. Giovanni Cain is two and a half years younger than Remi, and in the photos, they look similar enough that I recognized the connection immediately.

“Your brother’s an artist too?”

“Yeah, but he prefers sketching.”

She shrugs out of her jacket as she says it, revealing the Glock holstered at her waist.

“How’s Zara doing?”

I regret asking the second her expression changes. She looks away and starts readying her station instead.

“Better. She’s spending some time out of town with her parents.”

Neither of Zara’s parents appeared in the files, and instinct has me filing that away for later. The thought leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I came here tonight because I wanted to be with Remi, yet I’m still cataloging everything she tells me as if it might become useful.

“Hey,” I say.

She looks over at me, and I hesitate before resting my hand lightly on hers.

“How are you holding up?”