Page 8 of Break Me Beautifully
Scotch.“I can't drink yet,” I say.
“You're twenty years old.”
“It's illegal.”
“Since when does legality stop people from doing what they desire?” His voice is smokey. I grip my knees so keep them from trembling. Him bringing up legality makes me think about his connection to the mafia. I scan his hands, trying to see the tattoos I glimpsed earlier. “This isn't your first sip of alcohol, Leona. Don't lie.”
A pink blush crosses my cheeks. I still don't take the glass. “I'm fine.”
Klintock empties the glass into his own. “Suit yourself. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to.” His foot touches mine under the table, sending a thrill up my skin.
I jerk away. “Listen, Mr. Klintock ...”
“You can call me Marshall.”
“Fine, Marshall. I wanted to ask you something.”
“Anything,” he chuckles.
I part my lips, the memory of my mother's warning jumps up my throat.Don't get pregnant.I force the words down, refusing to give them power. “Why me?”
His dark eyebrows inch up his face. “That's a broad question, Leona.”
“How did you discover my art?”Does he follow Instagram? How would he know it was even me?
“I have my ways.”
“That's not enough of an answer.”
“And what are you going to do if it's all I give you?” He props his chin on his hand, smiling at me. “Will you get off my plane? Turn down my offer? You can, if you want. We haven't left the ground.”
I shoot a look out the window at the tarmac. “You'd let me just leave after going this far?” Marshall is quiet, his body still as a statue. It emboldens me to speak more sharply. “Idowant to learn from you. My dream is to wrap myself in the world of art, and you're my first, maybe my only, shot at that.” I grit my teeth, meeting his steely gaze. “But I know there's more going on. I'm not talented enough for you to extend such a personal offer to me. This is about my family, isn't it?”
He lets his hand drop, fingers folding together on the table. “Leona,” he says softly, but there's a darkness on his tongue, “Let me make this clear. I don't want your family. I wantyou.”
The rush of delicious arousal stuns me. Marshall's voice is thick, powerful, and alluring. I'm not going to survive his straight-forward way of talking. My family always spoke in code, dancing around the truth with cruelty or gossip to get their way. “There's no point in hiding it,” he continues. “I actually thought it was obvious. I've been blessed to see many mysterious, beautiful things in this world. I know when I've discovered something special. Why does it matterhowI found my way to you? I'm here now.”
I'm lost. My head is light, my body floating. I grip the chair's belt and strap myself in, because without it, I'm going to drift away and never come back down. “Sorry,” I whisper, clearing my throat. “Did you just call me beautiful?”
He laughs, throwing his head back. The noise shakes my bones, heats my blood. The speakers rumble as the captain announces we're taking off. There's passion in Marshall's eyes, the black centers somehow darker than the rest, sucking me in as he stares eagerly.
The engines roar, deafening me.
I don't need sound to know Marshall is still laughing.
