32. She’s Coming In Hot!

Chapter 32

She’s Coming In Hot!

Hunter

A few hours later, when I arrive at Megan’s apartment to pick her and Lena up, I’m taken aback by what I see when I arrive. Lena has washed out the dye in her hair, and the true ashy blonde color of her hair is as striking as her dark eyes. I can’t help but stare at her when she opens the door and she blinks back at me.

“What? I wanted a change, and Naomi did my hair for me.”

Naomi’s head pops up from lying flat on the couch.

“I did a damn good job, didn’t I?

I ignore Naomi’s rhetorical question and offer Lena a tight smile. “I forgot how much you looked like Mom.”

It’s clear that my statement makes her uncomfortable as she shifts awkwardly between both of her feet. Naomi lays her head back down as if she’s attempting to step away from our private conversation.

“I do?”

“I have a picture of her if you want to see it. She was beautiful.”

As we wait for Megan to finish getting ready, I take out my wallet and remove a faded photograph that is creased by the folds. The woman in the picture is holding a toddler. Both of them share the same ashy blonde hair, but my mother has gray eyes like mine.

“That’s my mother?’ Lena touches the photograph reverently.

“Yes, and that’s you who she’s holding.”

“She’s so pretty.”

“She was. As are you,” I tell her, looking at her. “When you were about two years old, I used to have long hair, and you liked pulling on it. I would pretend that it hurt so badly, and you would laugh and laugh.”

I recall a small room with a faded carpet and shabby pieces of furniture. For a moment, I can recall the scent of my mom’s famous beef stew cooking on the stove and the small weight of Lena on my shoulders as I ran around the room, the laughter of the little girl echoing in my ears.

My chest feels tight to the point of suffocation.

I haven’t heard Lena laugh once since she’s been back in my life.

Does she even remember how to?

“I’m not sure how you made it out of the house, Lena, but I’m grateful that you’re here,” I tell her. “And I’m sorry for not finding you before.”

Lena’s eyes sparkle with tears and she just shakes her head, keeping her composure. “It’s okay. You found me now.”

The sound of a door opening interrupts the touching moment between my sister and me, and when I see the vision walking toward me, I almost forget how to breathe.

Megan looks stunning.

She’s clad head to toe in the clothes and jewelry I purchased for her, and her hair is delicately curled in soft ringlets that frame her gorgeous face. Her makeup has been applied tastefully and makes her skin appear as if it is glowing from the inside out. The black halter dress shimmers with each movement of her hips and it’s a perfect fit if I do say so myself. Her shoulders are exposed, as is a part of her back, giving her a high-end look without showing too much skin.

“Well, how do I look?” she asks the room.

“Whoa, you look rich as hell,” Naomi says as she sits up. “You look like you wipe your ass with hundred-dollar bills, bitch!”

Megan checks herself out again in the full-length mirror near the front door as if she’s second-guessing herself.

“What do you think, Lena?” she asks my sister.

“You kind of do,” Lena agrees. “You’ve got the whole socialite thing going on. Those earrings look like something someone from the royal family would wear.”

“Shut up, you two,” I order before taking Megan in my arms. “You look like the gorgeous artist you are. The dress fits you like a glove, and the jewelry is appropriate.”

“For a college student?” Naomi adds. “Or a Kardashian?”

“She’s absolutely stunning,” I affirm, looking straight into Megan’s eyes.

“Thank you, Hunter.” She beams at me with a faint blush on her cheeks. “You look amazing yourself.”

She confidently picks up her clutch purse and tells Naomi, “I ordered you two large pizzas. They’re coming in thirty minutes.”

“Two large?” Naomi gives Megan a puzzled look. “What am I going to do with two large pizzas?”

“Christian and Vaughn might drop by to watch Netflix.”

“Wait.” Now Naomi stands up. “You’re telling me that those two adult men with full-time jobs are coming over to use our Netflix account?”

“Why are they visiting your apartment?” I scowl at Megan. “I didn’t tell them to drop by here. Are they bothering you often?”

“They’re not bothering me,” Megan paints a coat of iridescent pink gloss on her lips. “They come over every now and then, and I didn’t want Naomi to be alone. Plus, Christian is kind of cute. They might–“

“Hey,” I narrow my eyes at her. “Those two are not for admiring.”

“I’m not,” Megan chuckles. “I’m trying to help Naomi find a man.”

As if anything would happen between those two.

“Christian is cute,” Lena agrees.

“Stop looking at my grown-ass friends," I growl at her. "You’re too young to be dating!"

Lena just rolls her eyes at me. “No, I’m not.”

“Let’s go, Hunter.” Megan pulls at my arm, and I frown.

“We need to talk about this,” I counter.

“Not tonight.”

“I’m not messing up my Netflix algorithm for any man,” Naomi complains. “I have a whole movie night planned, and I’m not even wearing makeup! If they come by, I’m not answering the door.”

Good, at least Naomi and I are on the same page for once.

When we arrive at the gallery, it’s apparent that the event planners have really rolled out the red carpet for the exhibition, making sure the students selected from every university art program in the city feel special. There are photographers waiting by the door, taking shots of all the guests arriving in their semi-formal attire.

As a patron of the arts in Los Angeles, I recognize quite a few faces as we go inside. Many of the art pieces on display are beautiful, but I’m drawn to the corner dedicated to Megan. Her work is a bit more simplistic than some of the other paintings but I feel a hint of pride at how thought-provoking her work is. Each piece is different and has a deep meaning.

I watch from a distance as Lena takes a lap around the gallery, looking at all the various displays, and as Megan talks to an older woman who is admiring her work and asking questions.

“So, that’s your girlfriend,” comes a voice from behind me, and my expression grows stiff.

“DiAngelo.”

Dante DiAngelo is a popular philanthropist. He’s also the head of the DiAngelo family. At the age of thirty-two, he seized the position from his brother. Nicknamed ‘The Hellfire’ in underground circles, he’s got a reputation for being both power-hungry and having a taste for blood.

The fact that we’re allies is beneficial for the two of us, but there’s something about him seeing me around Megan that makes me feel uneasy. I can’t let him see that, though.

“How did you enjoy my gift?” I murmur, sipping the champagne and watching him closely.

He smiles at me, the cruelty in his eyes shining through. “I always enjoy gifts from you, Middleton. However, you must’ve really been upset with them if sending them to me was your choice of punishment.”

“Well, I do keep you in my thoughts every now and then.” I shrug.

“Who are they?” he asks with an unsettling curiosity.

“They’re nobody,” I tell him.

A woman silently presents a tray of hors d'oeuvres in front of us. I pass but Dante takes some sort of lobster quiche puff and pops it in his mouth.

“They arranged all this in my honor,” he explains vainly. “It would be rude not to try everything there is to offer.” He admires the painting in front of us as he chews. “I heard you got stood up by two of our friends. It’s a pity.”

I don’t miss the warning in his words. The fact that the two gang leaders whom I summoned refused to show up is circulating in the underground world quite rapidly. A refusal is not good for my reputation. It shows weakness.

“Well, you can’t train every old dog new tricks.” I smile lazily. “Sometimes you just have to get a new one.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m hearing rumors about somebody trying to usurp you. Trouble at the Blue Whiskey. Trouble at your home. It’s an entertaining thought that someone’s trying this hard.”

He glances at me, a smile on his lips. “I can’t wait to see how you deal with this.”

“Many have tried.” I swirl the golden liquid in my stemmed glass. “If I remember correctly, your brother had a similar idea.”

“Good thing he did.” Dante grins. “Or I wouldn’t be standing here as the head of the family.”

I nod in agreement.

“So?” Dante looks over his shoulder, and they follow his gaze. “Which one is your girlfriend? Is it the fair-haired beauty?”

“That’s my sister,” I tell him, cold. “And she’s not even legal, so don’t even think of sniffing around her.”

“So the rumors are true,” Dante studies Lena with a little too much interest. “So then the woman next to her must be the one you’re involved with. She looks young, too. I never really took you to be the dating type.”

Megan and my sister walk over to us and I curl my arm possessively around Megan’s waist as I reluctantly introduce them to Dante.

“Megan, Lena, this is Mr. Dante DiAngelo. He owns the DiAngelo Group and is a well-known art investor.”

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. DiAngelo,” Megan offers a little too eagerly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Dante beams at them both. “Miss Taylor, I saw your name under one of the sketches that caught my eye. I really enjoy your work. You’re very skilled, and you have a lot of potential.”

Megan smiles brightly at him and it makes the vein in my neck throb.

“Thank you.”

“I was actually thinking of buying a few pieces, but I only managed to get one. Yours were the first to be sold out.”

Megan’s mouth is agape. “Wait, what? Somebody bought my work?”

I give Dante a dark look. “So you were the one who bought that sketch of me?”

“I was going to hang it in my office for motivation.” He grins devilishly.

Lena chuckles but immediately straightens her face when I give her a stern look.

“I’ll buy it off you,” I tell him.

“It’s priceless to me, Hunter,” Dante says, false sincerity dripping from his tone.

“I’ll sketch you a new one,” Megan puts her hand on my chest, and I like the proprietary feel of the gesture. And then, she adds, “But I wonder who bought the rest of them?”

“That’s an interesting question, isn’t it?” He offers me a knowing grin and I want to smack it completely off of his face. He’s playing games.

“I’m sure –“

Megan doesn’t even allow me to finish my sentence, her eyes widening, “Please say it wasn’t you, Hunter.”

I have no reason to feel guilty, but I still avoid Megan’s eyes because I know what she’s thinking. The student who sells the most art tonight qualifies for the New York showing, and I’ve just fast-tracked her to the finalist spot.

“I liked them, and if I like something, there’s no reason I shouldn’t have it.”

A defiant fire lights up in Megan’s eyes. “If you liked them so much, you could’ve just picked something out from me personally. There’s a reason why I didn’t want you to pay for my work.”

I hate that Dante is still here, watching this conversation unfold between us. Every interaction I have with Megan is a chance for him to learn more about me and my weaknesses. I’m fucking up.

I’m about to put an end to the conversation when a familiar someone interrupts and beats me to the punch. I just wish it had been someone else.

“Mr. Middleton!” I always wonder how Dean Darwin looks so terrified and yet reverent when he sees me. “How are you? I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Just let me know. This is a fine showing, Miss Taylor. You should be proud.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Megan’s lips flatten into a straight line as Darwin walks away to kiss some more ass. She had no idea that I have a familiar relationship with the Dean of her school and I’m sure a lot of wild thoughts are racing through her head.

She leans into me, smelling of a tempting floral scent, and I bend my head down to hear what she clearly wants to say.

“I’m not happy, Hunter. We’ll chat about this later,” she whispers in my ear. It’s meant to be a warning, but all it does is make my dick hard as a rock.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. DiAngelo.” Megan then takes Lena’s arm. “Let’s go around the room and look at some of the other pieces, Lena. Please excuse us.”

Megan is pissed at me, and the gallery is quite safe, so I let the two of them roam around and enjoy the rest of the night.

Darwin finds me again and talks my ear off about some new construction project the school is interested in getting funding for. DiAngelo has no patience for small talk with unimportant people, so he escapes early on. By the time I manage to shake the Dean off, I look around and can’t find Megan or Lena anywhere.

My phone rings, and I step outside to answer it.

It’s Vaughn.

“I’m out with the girls,” I tell him without even a hello.

“I know, but this is important.”

He sounds tense.

“What is it?”

“I found the nurse, Rose. Jonathan ended up with a severe infection after the plastic surgery. Even after additional surgeries, his condition has become worse. That’s why he kept Rose around and, later, Diana. I found out something else. Jonathan is not the executioner. He was, in fact, in contact with the man called the Executioner. Jonathan gave him money. He isn’t working alone.”

“So this is bigger than just Jonathan.”

“Everything is all connected. I think he’s either working with or for the same person who’s involved in the power struggle we’re dealing with in the city right now. This executioner person is the key to everything.”

“Shit—is there anything else?” I ask as I digest everything Vaughn has just shared with me.

“Oh, and the picture that Steve talked about was an old one of Lena’s. It was sent to Jonathan eight years ago. He’s been looking for Lena almost as long as you have.”

My blood runs cold.