Page 110 of Score
“Satisfied?” she asks, her voice sultry and taunting.
“No.” I walk back to her and slip my hand inside the dress to squeeze her breast. “But I bet you not leaving this house till I am.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Wright Bellamy.” She laughs huskily, hopping off the counter and sauntering over to take the food from the oven. “Let’s eat.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Verity
I?’m not sure how we go from nearly fucking on his shiny kitchen surfaces to eating and laughing about the crew’s on-set antics, but it’s a seamless transition. Thechicken thing, as Monk called it, with rice pilaf, is delicious, and it takes me no time to get through my generous helping.
“I know you’ve noticed all the pining and longing going on between Neevah and Canon,” Monk says, setting his fork down. “But did you know Evan has a crush on our costume designer?”
“Linh?” My eyes go wide. “She’s married.”
“Yup. She doesn’t know he’s alive. Not like that anyway, but she’s a beautiful woman. I can see how he got… distracted. It’ll pass.” He stands and nods to my empty plate on the counter. “You done?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He gathers our dishes and walks them across the kitchen.
“You know who her father is, right?” he asks, his words a little lost as he bends to load the dishwasher.
“No, who?”
“Chap Brody.” He straightens and heads back to me. “That sculptor Dr. Garrison loved so much. His exhibit was in the fine arts building. You remember?”
My lips are numb and my fingers tingle.
“What?” I ask, my voice seeming to come from far away, from a night long ago. “He’s who?”
“The sculptor.”
Shattered glass. Painful cuts. The cold floor beneath my naked belly. Handcuffs slicing into my wrists. Cruel laughter and rough hands.
Flame.
“Hey, you okay?” Monk frowns at me, canting his head. “Vee?”
“Yeah.” I nod, forcing myself out of the haze of the past, out of that nightmare. “I’m fine. I just can’t believe Chap Brody is her dad. That Linh’s his daughter. That they’re…”
“Yeah.” Monk retakes the seat beside me at the counter. “Small world, huh?”
“Very,” I whisper, little panicked breaths expanding in my chest. It’s not that big of a deal. I was just blindsided, like some projectile landing in the middle of your plate at dinner. Tonight I want what’s next, but again my past seems determined to sabotage my future before I can enjoy it. If we don’t change the subject, I’ll fixate on this and ruin what has been a perfect evening so far.
“You, um, owe me a song,” I say, forcing a light tone and a smile.
Monk’s brow furrows and then smooths out. “That’s right. I did lure you here with the promise of my considerable musical talents.”
“Your humility never ceases to amaze me.” I chuckle, and the tightness between my shoulder blades gradually eases.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and leads us out of the kitchen, through the living room and up a set of floating dark wood stairs that empty into a hallway.
“Where are we…” My words trail into dust when we enter a huge open suite and a grand piano comes into view. “Going.”
“You wanted a song?” He walks us over to the impressive instrument. “My favorite piano.”
Through a door lies the primary suite decorated in shades of cognac and espresso. A king-sized platform bed and driftwood side tables take up much of the space.
