Page 2 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)

An entirely new painting? He wants me to create some kind of masterpiece in only three days? Disbelief and despair curdle my gut.

The intensity of his attention pierces my flesh like a hundred tiny knives, so I drop my gaze to his collarbone.

He grabs my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks and forcing my eyes back up to his.

“Answer me, or you’ll regret it, little bug.”

I already regret it , I want to scream.

His talons reek of sex, like the fingers gripping my cheeks were inside some random woman just five minutes ago.

The disgust roasting my insides is enough to bring hot tears to my defiant eyes.

The coppery tang of blood crawls up my nose.

I don’t want to open my mouth, lest either of the scents creep in?—

“Still resisting me?” Leo’s sharp nails cut deeper into my soft skin until my jaw aches beneath the power of his grip. “Do you need a reminder of what happened last time you tried to rebel?”

I can’t stop my reflexive glance at Mae or the shudder that racks my body. Acid swells in my gut. Once Leo learned that beatings no longer motivated me enough to do his bidding, he focused on Mae instead. He had one of his goons restrain me while he smashed her pinky finger with a hammer.

“No.” I bite the word through gritted teeth.

Leo’s eyes narrow. “No what ?”

I swallow, my mouth dry as bone as the memory of Mae’s screams ring in my ears. “No, sir.”

“There’s a good little bug.” Chuckling, he releases me and pats me on the head like a dog before sauntering to the center of the room.

While his back is turned, I rub my aching jaw and meet Mae’s wide eyes. They glisten with a combination of fear and sorrow. Mae hates that Leo uses her as leverage to keep me in line.

“The next piece you create…” he extends his arms wide and pivots back to reveal a cruel smile that sends goose bumps up my arms, “…has to be the ultimate selling point. Understand?”

“Ultimate…selling point?” What the hell does that even mean?

Scratch that. Something tells me I don’t want to know.

“That’s right.” His broad smile retracts into a smaller, darker one. “On Saturday, we won’t just be selling a painting. We’ll be selling the artist.”

When his words sink in, my heart ceases to beat. I don’t understand exactly what selling someone means in the world that normal, everyday people inhabit, but in my world, when mafia men talk about selling a person they mean it literally. They sell people as if they’re property to turn a profit.

We’ll be selling the artist.

Those five words spin my head like a top.

Hobbyists draw and paint for fun or therapy. Professionals create art to cultivate careers and support themselves. My mother was forbidden from doing either.

Instead, she was forced to generate art for horrible men who seized her work, sold it for millions, and kept every cent.

And after they worked her to death, they ordered me to take her place and create paintings for Libertas , the anonymous master they invented to hide our true identities.

Combined, the De Luca family has been profiting off our art for more than twenty years.

And now…Leo’s saying he’s going to sell me?

Mae’s voice trembles. “You can’t mean?—”

“I’ve had offers.” The triumph on his face shines brighter than the sun outside. “Turns out there are plenty of people who’d pay a fortune to possess the mysterious Libertas.”

Oh, god.

I brace myself against my art cabinet before my gelatinous legs give out. Is this really happening? I swallow a horrified gasp.

Tears spring from Mae’s eyes, her gaze tumbling to the floor as she shakes her head back and forth.

“What’s with the sad faces? This is the single greatest financial opportunity this family’s ever seen. We should all be glad I thought of it.” Leo grins and lights a cigarette as he heads for the door.

“He can’t do this.”

Mae issues the protest under her breath, but Leo freezes anyway.

The blood drains from my head when he slowly pivots. “I can’t do this?” Rage flashes in his eyes before a menacing grin stretches his mouth.

As he prowls forward, Mae cowers, her petite form trembling with fear.

“Leo, stop. She didn’t mean it.” I leap into his path again, but he shoves me down. When my knees hit the floor, a shockwave of pain shoots up my legs.

I scramble to my feet as quickly as I can, but it’s already too late.

Mae’s scream scrapes my bones, and the acrid stench of burning skin overloads my nervous system.

With uncoordinated movements, I stumble toward them, all but falling on Mae, who’s collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor.

Gently, I pry the arm she’s cradling away from her chest. An ugly, circular burn mars the creamy skin above her wrist.

Swallowing the caustic words on my tongue, I embrace her and murmur soothing noises while fury boils in my gut. Anything I say will only increase the likelihood of Leo inflicting even more pain on my only friend.

Sneering, Leo flicks ash by our feet and strolls back to the door. “If you don’t have my painting done by Friday night, I’ll get out the hammer again, and this time, I won’t stop with one finger. She’s worthless anyway, so I’m sure she’d get by just fine with only one hand.”

I bite my cheek, focusing on the metallic, salty taste of my blood in an effort to stop myself from screaming or launching myself at his head.

I hate him so much. I wish I were stronger and braver. Just once, I’d love to see fear in his eyes, to watch him cower and beg. I’d show him the same mercy he gave to Mae, and then the two of us would leave this eternal purgatory for good.

The second he’s gone, I race for the bathroom and snatch the first aid kit from beneath the cabinet. Tears continue streaming from Mae’s eyes while I disinfect the burn, apply salve, and wrap the wound with a loose gauze covering.

When I finish, Mae’s sobs have downgraded to hiccups and whimpers. She pulls me into a shaky embrace, and I absently pat her back. I think I’m still dazed. Not just from Leo’s attack, but also from what he said.

He’s going to sell me to another mafioso. Some other man who will work me to death, just like the De Lucas worked my mom. Who, like Leo, will keep me locked away painting. Only with one big difference.

As terrible as my current situation is, working for Leo does carry a significant benefit.

We have the same father. I’m not so naive that I fail to comprehend that our shared blood is the only thing keeping me safe from his sexual aggression.

That won’t be the case with whoever buys me. Guess it’s time to pray for a geezer with one foot in the grave and permanent erectile dysfunction to purchase me.

I stare blankly over Mae’s shoulder. My mind conjures up images of me locked in a jail cell with an easel and a paintbrush, forced to create from dawn to dusk to generate money for my jailer.

That possibility is only marginally better.

At least here, when I paint, I can pretend I do so out of love.

I can visualize how much fun I had painting with my mom.

Once Leo sells me to someone else, once I leave this place, those good memories will fade. The nostalgia will disappear. I’ll be confined in an unfamiliar space as some criminal’s prisoner. A work horse until I die.

My head reels, and bile stings my throat. Even though part of me believes I deserve it.

Leo’s a monster. The kind that makes me want to crawl under the nearest bed. Or better yet, find a flamethrower and torch his ass straight to hell.

We were brought up as cousins, and he made it his mission to terrorize me at every opportunity.

And there were many opportunities.

He’s been calling me little bug for as long as I can remember.

Ever since I was little and committed the terrible crime of saying hello in the hallway.

The next day, he pinned me to the ground and forced me to watch him torture a cockroach to death.

He said that’s what would happen to me if I ever spoke to him again without his permission.

He always managed to hurt me “accidentally.” Like the time he spilled steaming hot coffee on my arm, or when he pegged me in the gut with a baseball.

He basically turned me into a walking bruise whenever he was around.

It wasn’t until he was shipped off to a Las Vegas prison five years ago that I knew what it was like to breathe for the first time. I never realized I’d been holding my breath every waking moment, not until we had thousands of miles between us.

All my life, I thought he was just evil. That’s why he took such pains to torment me and found so much pleasure in it. But ever since I discovered the secret he’s known all along…I understand his hatred for me.

Mae’s hiccups reverberate through the room as I continue to fret. Leo’s wanted to get rid of me since before I was ever born. He’s vowed to do it more times than I can remember.

Now, finally, his chance has come.

Unless I figure a way out of this mess, my current life, as pitiful as it is, may start to look like a cakewalk in three days’ time.