Page 71 of Pink Ink

At least there’s something good waiting for me in my office. I can check Nicole’s and Kimi’s social media to see if they’ve posted anything with Reyna in it to confirm she’s still fine. Otherwise, I’ll stop by the library to see her.

Once that concern is out of the way, I can focus on painting. I’ve finished the cliffside angel painting and started two new pieces that I’ve been working on while Reyna ignores me. One of them has pushed me in ways I never thought it would, but all the nights I’ve spent—

“Mads.”

I pause with my foot on the step.

“Mads,” she repeats. Quieter this time.

If I turn around, I better not find who I think is standing there. Running my tongue over my teeth, I take a deep breath, and slowly pivot to look at the woman waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.

Abigail Bloody Dornmont.

Good.

Now I’m in an extra-bad mood.

Her lips curl into a nervous smile as she grips a brown paper bag so hard that it’s shaking. Holding back a sigh, I meet her at the bottom of the stairs, where she glances around at the students milling about before leaning in for a kiss that I sidestep.

“What do you want?” I sigh.

“I brought you lunch,” she squeaks, and holds the bag out.

I stare at it. Controlling my personal life wasn’t enough, now my parents are ruining my workplace too?

“I’m sure I have Mother to thank for this visit.” I scowl, then wipe the emotion from my face when she flinches.

If this were Reyna and I looked at her this way, she’d double down and give me a run for my money. I’m pretty sure she gets off on pissing me off. Other than my brother, there hasn’t been a single person who’s been able to tolerate my candidness. Until her.

Abi lowers her eyes so her gaze is somewhere around my chest. “She said we need to try to sell it more.”

Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut before cautiously extracting the bag from her hands like it might be a bomb, then say my thanks. I can’t be mad at her when she’s here under orders. Still, “Don’t come to my work again.”

She hesitates. “But I was told that we need to make more appearances. Outside of our dinners. Mom says that people are saying that the whole marriage is for the election.”

“Not all acolytes are stupid, then.” I scoff. “It doesn’t matter what you’re told. My work is off-limits. If you want to organize something, text me. I don’t appreciate being blindsided like this.”

My voice is moderately soft, but she swallows and stares at her feet like I just yelled at her in front of the entire student body. “Okay.”

“Good.” I try to give her a friendly smile. The key word there istry. “Great chat. Thanks for lunch.”

I turn to leave her to do whatever it is she does during the day—shopping, probably. My socialite fiancée’s hobby is spending Daddy’s money.

And soon mine, unless I can find a way out of it.

Storming back up the steps, I head toward my office and throw the food into the nearest rubbish bin. I wouldn’t put it past Mother to poison it or hide razor blades in there to keep me on my toes.

My mood takes more of a nosedive when I pass Alex, the kid who showed up at my door seconds after my religious experience with Reyna last week. He just gives me a sideways glance before continuing down the stairs.

What is this? Am I meant to be seeing every member of the bloody Order today?

Either I need to drink enough to become comatose or I need to turn someone into a creative piece to release some steam. Picking up a paintbrush when I’m in this state won’t go down well for me. My exhibition is quickly approaching, and I can’t afford to screw it up.

I’ve barely slept since I last visited Reyna’s bedroom. If I keep running on fumes the way I am, I might decide it’s a good idea to confront the littlenagaand demand to know why she’s avoiding me.

When I get to my floor, my eyes lock with a pair of coffee-brown eyes that look like hers.

Fucking hell. Now I’m hallucinating.