There Is No Devil Sinners Duet Book 2 By Sophie Lark-pdfread

COLE
November flows into December, each day passing quicker than the
last.
I’m already regretting winning the bid for the sculpture.
York is demanding I build it as quickly as possible, before the next round of
elections in the spring.
And just as I expected, I’m fucking hating it.
I have to command an entire crew of construction workers, none of whom
know the first fucking thing about working with these kinds of materials.
I’m out on the frigid, whistling flat top of Corona Heights Park, in the
goddamned coldest December since 1932, shouting at welders who have
already shattered a dozen of the smoked glass plates that make up the walls
of the labyrinth.
This might possibly be tolerable if Mara was with me, but she’s not. She’s
back at the studio, finishing up her series in time for the show I’m throwing
next week.
Whenever I want to snap the neck of one of the incompetent glaziers, I pull
out my phone and check the camera in her studio. It gives me a sense of
peace watching her dab away at the canvas, her music blasting, her spare
paintbrushes twisted up in her hair.
She’s much too engrossed in her work to think about me.