Selective/Memory: The "Depth of Emotion" Book 2 (The Depth of Emotion) by DD Lorenzo Page A

needed appreciation only for how they could be exploited and utilized. She had been incorporating herself at The Studio by bringing in more and more of the little peon, want-to-be models under the pretense of helping Declan to build his empire. Sitting through each of his boring pep talks to them, she nearly drooled as he droned on about “keeping your head on straight” and “forming a business plan to market yourself,” blah, blah, blah…it made her sick. All the while, she smiled as he spoke. Smiling was her talent—after all, she had made millions from it, as well as her looks and her body.
    Now was the time to put her plan into action to get him into her bed. Hawaii would provide that opportunity.
    Declan still looked good in his face, but he wouldn’t be doing any bathing suit or nude work—not since the accident. He limped and would never have a normal gait. Marisol felt herself sneer at the thought of being companioned with imperfection and she felt satisfied that he’d be humiliated in Hawaii when they rejected him for the shoot. Of course, she’d find any excuse to avoid being photographed with him should the occasion arise. She would, however, continue this ruse until her plan had been carried through to completion. She had played the good friend role until she felt like she’d vomit.
    Supportive companion would not be a position that Marisol Franzi would fill for too long! Absolutely not!
    She’d be patient and sympathetic with his crushed ego in Hawaii, all the while seducing and consoling him with her body. Being compliant for this particular chance would assure her vengeance would be sweet. She’d take everything from him. Declan had dismissed her for the little sand whore, and Marisol would never forget it…and when she was finished with Declan, neither would he…
    Lying back into the comfort of the elegant chair, Marisol crossed one long, luscious leg over the other as she massaged herself in long, comforting strokes. She licked her lips, savoring the memory of the sight of Aria on the beach after the accident occurred. It was such an unexpected pleasure…
     
    She was on her way to intercept Declan’s brother before he visited with him at the hospital. As she walked toward Declan’s house, she spotted Aria on the beach. Oh! She could have jumped up and down at the sight!
    Aria was crying hysterically, completely beside herself, and appeared to be in agony. Marisol knew it just had to be because of Declan. She had heard that Declan blamed Aria for his incapacitation! She couldn’t have wished for a better result!
    Standing out of sight, she savored the scene before her. Aria’s agony was, after all, her delight. The only distress she felt was that she wasn’t at liberty to go over to the bitch and kick her ass while she writhed on the beach. What she wouldn’t have given to have been able to claw at her fat face and knock the remainder of sarcasm from her whale of a body!
    She had to contain herself, however, because it was daytime and she didn’t know who would have seen her. It proved to be that her instinct was right. As Marisol continued to keep her presence hidden that day, Aria’s friend went down onto the beach and helped her up and to her car. It didn’t matter; just seeing Aria distressed that day put Marisol in a good mood for over a week.
    She’d hoped the bitch had a breakdown; then she heard she had ! It was DELICIOUS!
    That was what she deserved for attempting to touch ANYTHING that belonged to Marisol—and she had better not try to EVER get in Marisol’s way again— or there would be hell to pay!
     
    Looking back up into the mirror, she saw her own reflection staring back at her.
    “What the hell are you looking at?”
    “ Nada . Nothing. I was trying not to disturb you,” said the beautifully parallel image.
    Marisol smirked. “Did you do everything I told you? Put everything together?”
    “Yes. Si. I picked up everything you asked. It is in the trunk of your