Constantine's POV By the time the car rolled to a stop outside the address, I’d finished reading into Lexi’s files. The images and texts I found were shocking, I was not expecting this but I knew how to turn a situation in my favour. I kicked open the front door, striding in with Carlisle and Cavalon flanking me.“Darling, I’m home," I called as I stepped into the room to see Lexi and Kate, curled together on the couch like conspiring schoolgirls. They sprang apart upon seeing me and Kate jumped to her feet, instinctively placing herself in front of Lexi. I had to admire her bravery. “Where’s Jones?” Kate demanded, her voice defiant. I tilted my head, amused by her courage as I stepped forward, wrapping my hand around her throat. Her pulse raced beneath my fingers. “You’re in no position to be asking questions, sweetheart.” Kate’s lips twisted into a smirk even as my grip tightened. “If I were straight, maybe I’d actually be enjoying this,” she sneered, trying to keep her
April's POV It had been a week and a half since I’d arrived in New York, and already, the city felt like it was stitching me back together, piece by piece. My mornings had a rhythm now: a cup of coffee cradled between my hands as I sat on the gallery's front steps, watching the endless stream of people passing by. Each face, each hurried footstep, reminded me of how easy it was to lose yourself in the hum of the city, and in a way, that was exactly what I needed.I was the new manager at Gravia’s Art Gallery—a small but renowned space known for showcasing some of the most daring contemporary artists. The gallery was tucked into a narrow street, surrounded by antique bookstores and cafes that always smelled of freshly baked bread. The job was fast-paced and unpredictable, every day offering something new. I loved it—the feeling of being at the center of something vibrant, of finally finding my place among people who shared my passion for creation and self-expression.In the back room
This is a story about how I met a man I hated to love. His name is Constantine... ××× It was a summer morning, and I was feeling slightly off about today. Something in me told me not to go outside but I couldn't help it. I needed to work in order to pay for my wedding. Everyone was so proud that little old me was marrying a man who was a dentist. Such a respectable profession my mother quipped when she learned of my relationship with Doctor Evan Sterling. Your children will be geniuses and beautiful, my father said, happily shaking Evan's hand and shaking the man's whole body in the process. Did I want to marry Evan? That I didn't know as yet. He put me on the spot in a restaurant filled with people after a year of dating and I felt too bad to say no not yet I'm only twenty-five and not a woman from the eighteen hundreds. I did care for Evan. He was a nice guy and I found him attractive I just didn't think we'd settle into marriage so soon. I thought we would have more time. T
Day three of looking for a job didn't go as well as I thought it would. I still haven't told Evan that I got fired and I wasn't planning to. Instead, I told a little white lie about working shorter hours— and that's why I was currently looking for a new job. Evan didn't need to know it was because of my stupid manager that thought he was the monkey's eyebrows —just because he told a group of people trying to earn an honest living what and what not to do as well as tutored them on the proper and most effective way to kiss a customer's ass. "I admire you, April," Evan said, leaning over my coffee table and kissing my forehead. "Why is that?" I asked. "You're looking for a better job while your boss cut your shift hours. You have determination," please stop talking, "you're focused. Goal driven." He sang my praises. "You always get back on that horse and grab it by the reigns." Not the horse. The horse barely gave anyone a break. The horse seemed to dislike me and kept kicking me o
Sunday evenings we had lunch with my parents or Evan's. Recently we've been having it with both our parents and this time Evan's grandmother was going to be there. I was close to my family but no one ever supported my dreams of being an artist except Rain. Not even Evan though he said he did but he would often refer to it as a nice hobby which I translated into a pass time. Something not serious. But painting wasn't a pass time for me. It was a piece of my soul going into every one of my creations and no one seemed to see that. Evan parked his car in the driveway behind his parent's car. "Do you need a lift in the morning to work since your car is in the shop?" He asked.I was barely managing to keep up with my lies. I hid my car from Evan because the front bumper was a little banged up. "No," I blurted and he had a confused look on his face. "Okay..." He dragged out. "I already made arrangements with a co-worker." I slid out of the car in a rush to go inside before I told more l
Constantine's Pov The door slammed causing me to sit up quickly in bed, firstly mishearing and thinking it was a gunshot. "Constantine!" My father's voice pulled me back to the land of the living and angry, chasing the remnants of my sleep away. My eyes squinted though the room wasn't bright-— that door slam sent shock waves to my head. I focused on him standing at the foot of my bed. He was dressed in a grey suit and looked more stressed than when he left. He was home two days early. "You're back," my words sounded like a groan. He let out a sigh of disapproval and reached for the master remote on the dresser. He pressed a button and the thick black curtains slowly parted. Bright sunlight bombarded the dimly lit room irritating my eyes. "What is the meaning of this!" He demanded glancing at the two women in my bed. I balanced on my elbows, pushing myself up to look at him. "I can explain it in a few words or a lot of words." I grinned. After a certain age, a man stopped fearin
"April," Rain yelled banging on my apartment door. Dragging my one shoe along with me to the door and fighting my one arm through a slightly tight jacket— I barrelled out of my room. "April hurry up!" She banged harder shrivelling my last nerve of patience. "There better be a fucking zombie apocalypse outside," I yelled, and pulled open the door to see Rain's face a pale sickly colour. Her eyes were wide and her lips looked like she had been chewing on them. She pushed past me coming into my apartment," Rain," I gasped and she slammed the door shut, locking it. She turned to look at me with wide eyes as if she had seen a ghost. Her fingers were digging into my arm. "Want to tell me what's going on, you lunatic?" I pulled my arm out of hers massaging the sore skin. "That man," she said in a grave voice, "that man, you can't work for that man-" "Rain, what are you talking about?" "He's dangerous. He's a potential suspect in a murder." She pushed a magazine into my hands. She turne
Instead of going for therapy an artist expressed themselves and got paid for it instead. Artists were paid for feeling and expressing those feelings on a canvas. Maybe my art lacked the amount of emotion to get it to where it needed to be. I did not lust, there was no forbidden love, and I had not reached that level of self-loathing that was great enough to paint the masterpiece that lay within my hands."I'm a collector of beautiful things," Constantine walked over to me. "To each their own," I turned away from the black and white painting. I didn't like this piece. I remember the first time I saw it when I was flipping through a copy of Tragic Masterpieces, the painting stirred something within me. It made me feel uneasy. A dark hand reaching out on a white canvas to touch a man's shadow. I unfortunately had to research it for my paper. Then I learned it was renowned mostly for the tragedy behind it. So I couldn't understand why anyone would keep this in a living room and sta