Chapter 36 Art class - Lily
"So, you're really starting classes tomorrow?" Fiona brushes my wet hair back. "I can't believe he's actually letting you do that."
I can hear the longing in her voice, and I feel so selfish in that moment. I'm sure she never wanted this life, no little girl ever dreams of becoming a maid.
"How about you?" I ask carefully. "Is there something you really want to do?"
I appreciate her being here. If she wasn't, I would literally have no one to talk to. I love being holed up in my studio, but it's also great to have another human being around.
"I was never any good at school." She shrugs. "My mother worked for your father for years, I didn't have any plans or anything, so when she asked if I was interested, I said yes."
"You're good at doing hair, how about beauty school or something?"
She really is good, she's been doing my hair every few days, taking the pressure off of myself from trying to look good on my own.
"Maybe?" I can hear the doubt in her voice.
She probably thinks being a maid is all that she's worth, but what good is a mafia organisation that can't uplift its people?
I go to bed alone that night, Vincent almost never around. He's either at the hospital talking to Elio, who woke up, but can't remember what happened or who hit him, or he's at the club trying to find out who is distributing the new drug.
I wake up to fingers fondling my breast, and I'm ready to kick the assailant when I see the tattooed arm of my husband holding me.
"You're awake." He whispers in my ear.
"You're touching me."
He chuckles lightly, his hand brushing over my side to lift my night dress up and fingering my panties.
"You wear too many clothes to bed. " He whines, rubbing his hard length against my ass.
"Oh, am I supposed to just lie here like a prostitute and wait for your return every night?"
"That actually sounds very enticing."
He can be the most infuriating person when he wants to be.
But I like it.
There, I said it.
I like my husband, even though he comes home too late, and hardly finds time to spend with me.
I wish we could go back to the lake house, even if it's just for one night. I would have him all to myself then.
I know it's wishful thinking, though, he's way too busy for that.
Vincent kisses over my shoulder, back up to my nech and nibbles on my ear again. "You're mad again."
I roll my eyes in the darkness of the room. I guess it's true what they always say, men are clueless.
He sighs and settles his arm over my waist, and before long, he's breathing evens out, signalling he's asleep.
Why is he doing this to himself? He's working himself to the bone.
I hold his hand , willing myself to go back to sleep, knowing that the next day will be an exciting one for me.
The art college is a small campus in the city, and I immediately feel at home amongst the weirdos of the world. I think students think it's a little odd with Frank constantly being close by to watch my back like I'm some kind of celebrity, but I couldn't care less.
I'm an art student, something I've always wanted to be. Vincent made a dream come true for me, and I'll forever be grateful to him for that.
The art history professor is a charming man in his forties who seems like a dynamic teacher. He cares about the artists he speaks of and the lens through which art is looked upon.
I soak in every word he says, and when the class is over, it's evident he's a very popular professor by the way almost every student wants to talk to him. I see on my schedule that I also have a practical class with him three times a week, and I'm excited that he would get to see my art.
Of course it's not how I envisioned my time as a student would go, especially not with a damn bodyguard when everyone else is chatting to one another, getting to know new friends.
The only friend I have is one that is getting paid to be my friend. But being a student is a win, and I know I shouldn't demand too much before it gets snatched away from me.
Padre is waiting for me when I get home,
a stern expression on his face.
"Is something wrong?" I want to know.
I don't know why I bother to ask. There is always something wrong in this world.
"Amber has been found."
"Oh, that is a good thing, right?"
I should've known there's never something good either.
"She's dead, Lily." His face is stoic, but I see the concern in his eyes. "And Vincent has been escorted to the police station for questioning."