“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 forLibertas, 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 prythe 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.
