Sweetest Venom (Virtue #2)(35)

“I see… A word of advice?”

“Yes?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Be gentle with her. She just got out of a nasty divorce.”

Reclining against the fridge, I cross my arms on my chest. “We’re just having fun.”

He takes his glasses off and carefully polishes them with a handkerchief. “It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, isn’t it?”

“With all due respect, what Rachel and I choose to do is none of your business.”

“Of course, but—”

“She’s an adult, she knows what she’s doing.”

“I know she is, but do you?”

I scowl. “What do you mean?”

“I get the feeling that you’re playing a very dangerous game, Ronan. One that will leave many people hurt. Do you know what I think?”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Carl stares at me, like he’s able to see past all my walls. “I think that you’re chasing more than fame here—something that Rachel and I can’t give you. I could be wrong, but I rarely am.”

At that moment, Rachel comes back into the room, forcing us to drop the subject. I make myself unclench my jaw so I can smile at Rachel, who’s watching us carefully.

“What were you guys talking about? You seem so serious.”

Staring at Carl, I take Rachel’s hand in mine, raise it to my lips, and kiss it. “Nothing important.”

“So what do you think, Carl?” She smiles at both of us. “Do you think that Ronan has what it takes to take the art world by storm?”

He clears his throat, but he can’t erase the concern in his expression. Looking at Carl, I get the sense that part of him wants me to reject their help. In his silence, he’s giving me a chance to do the right thing and walk away from Rachel, but I’m done doing the right thing. For once in my life, I want to think of me and only me.

I remain silent.

“I’m fairly certain that he will, Rachel. Question is,” he turns to face me, “are you ready, my boy?”

So the charade is back on, and I’m not surprised. The thing is, even though I can see the concern and affection that Carl has for Rachel, he can’t hide the greed behind his eyes. He wants me as much as Rachel wants me.

I shrug.

“I’ll call my contacts at The New York Minute, The City, and Vanity. One of them will write a profile on you if I ask. We need to start generating some buzz. Do you have anything else besides what you just showed me? Are you working on something else?”

I nod, giving him a brief idea of what I want to work on next.

“Oh! Ho, ho, ho, you rascal.” He rubs his hands excitedly. “This is going to be magnificent.”

They spend the rest of the hour going over details and mapping out each and every step in my road to success (or perdition). As their words become a meaningless buzz filling my kitchen, an image of my mom on her knees bandaging and kissing my father’s weathered and callused hands flashes through my eyes.

“You work too hard, Noel. Look at your poor hands.”

“Not at all. Stand up, Josephine. You know I don’t like you kneeling on the floor. Don’t think about my hands. I’m proud of them. They put a roof over us, clothe and feed our family. And that’s enough for me.”

“But—”

“But nothing, my love. I want to teach Ronan and Jackie that if you work hard day in and day out and never give up, everything is possible.” He cups her face lovingly, staring into her eyes. “And that dreams do come true.”

I shake my head. What am I doing?

“Wait. Hold up. I haven’t said yes. I need to think about this.”

Carl and Rachel stare at me as if all of a sudden I’ve sprouted two heads. Rachel places her palms flat on the countertop. “What do you mean think about it? I thought we went over this last night. Carl is offering you the chance of a lifetime. A chance people would kill for.”

“I get that, but—”

Relentless, she ignores me. “He’s willing to put his name on the line for you because he thinks you can go very far. Think about it, your face on the cover of magazines, articles written about you, interviews, parties, people clamoring for you and your art.” She pauses. “You won’t have to stand outside another Edgar Juarez exhibit as an insignificant guest. Next time, it will be your exhibit and people will be there for you and only you.”

Carl inspects his manicured nails. “She’s right, Ronan. Dignity and pride won’t get you out of”—he scans my apartment—”here.”

I run my hands through my hair, wanting to pull it out. “I haven’t said no. I just need time to think about it, okay? Give me a break.”

Carl pats my shoulder. “We’re just trying to help you. You make it seem as though you were selling your soul to the devil, my boy.”

Why does it feel like I am?

Later, as we’re being driven away in a black Escalade, Rachel reaches for my hand and asks, “What are you so afraid of?”

I look out the window and see a pair of blue eyes staring back at me.

“I’m a gold digger, you know? I f*ck for money.” She stares at me, a cruel smirk on her achingly beautiful face. “And frankly, it doesn’t look like you could ever pay my price.”