“Gotta stick together.” She headed inside, and I noticed then that she didn’t have a bag or purse, which meant she was probably one of the rescues here.
I tucked the card in my bag, my fingers catching on the brochure Tina gave me. Something tickled in my throat as the car pulled up.
Maybe Jose really did care. Maybe this was the place that could help me get out from under TJ’s hold. Maybe I should call this Mia chick. Maybe this was fate.
And maybe pigs would fly.
Chapter Three
Mia
The security my studio apartment had was top-notch, something I made sure of when I moved in and bought the place five years ago. Always updated, always on.
I was in my art studio when I got a ping, letting me know the new model was here. I clicked on my monitor and popped up the security app to see a pretty blonde frowning at the door, the late October wind blowing strands of light-colored hair onto her cheeks.
The creative muse in me chomped at the bit in glee. Even in the black and white, gritty image, she was perfect.
When I greeted her at the door, she seemed to hesitate as we made eye contact. I had no idea what she was thinking when she saw me, but by the look of surprise in her big brown eyes, I figured she’d expected someone older or more dignified.
“Devon, right?” I asked, my voice betraying any confidence I wished to show; instead, it came out wispy and too soft to hear. But she’d heard me.
“Yeah. Miss Sayne?” The smile and tone made the question almost humorous.
“Just Mia, please.” I liked her already. She was not only perfect for what I had in mind, but she seemed to have a quality of no pretense, which I always appreciated in people. I hated the social pretty almost as much as I hated interacting with people.
“Please, come right in.” I shut the door behind us when she stepped into the studio, carefully setting the alarm back in place with a touch of a few buttons. A soft beep alerted me that all was set.
“Tight security, huh?” she asked. Her voice was tinted with a husky tone, and for an instant I wondered if she sounded like that when she was having sex.
Blushing, I watched her glance around the place. She was wearing skinny jeans, a brown leather jacket that looked well-used and worn, with low heeled boots. Her silken hair, a rich gold, fell down her back all the way to the top of her apple-shaped bottom.
“Yeah. Can’t be too careful here in the city.” I stood beside her and surveyed the room as if I were seeing it through her eyes.
I had two floors of the studio’s four-thousand square feet to myself, the first floor being an open-plan setup, with a kitchen, office area, and plenty of space for two sofas and my blue, crushed velvet recliner. Bookshelves lined all three walls from the kitchen onward, the other wall covered in floor-to-ceiling windows—with their high-tech shutters, of course. My art studio was in the back, partitioned off from the kitchen, offering plenty of space for my backdrops and special lighting, my work area, and equipment. And not that she’d see it, but upstairs were my bathroom, bedroom, and a spare room that Dad used when he visited. Right now it was filled with all my work to-date; frames, paintings, crates, things I’d sworn to myself I’d send off to art dealers but never brave enough to do it.
Whistling, Devon walked over to one of the bookshelves. “Wow. Lots of books.” She kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket, and I could see the fists she made through the leather, as though she was holding back from touching anything.
“You read?” I walked over to where she stood and straightened The Bell Jar, making it flush with the other books, a detail that stuck out like a sore thumb.
She turned around and gave me a look. “Of course I can read.”
Shocked at her reaction, I took a step back.
Her eyes widened. “Shit! I’m sorry. That’s not what you asked, was it? I mean—”
Understanding hit me, and I held up a hand, offering her a rare smile. “No, it’s okay. I know what you mean.”
She grinned back, then let out a big sigh. “I’m nervous, can’t you tell?” Laughing, she walked away to the center of the room.
“Perfectly normal. Guess we should talk about what I’m looking for?”
She turned