Page 99

“Thank you,” I shift on my feet, “for everything. I’ve been shit to you and you’ve stuck by me. It means a lot.”

He stiffens, his eyes widening at my words. I give him grief and he dishes it right back, but I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked him for not leaving me, for being the one person I can talk to.

Until Olivia.

The woman whose lips I can’t forget, whose kiss reigns supreme as the best sexual encounter I’ve ever had.

Clearing his throat, he nods. “You should tell the doc the truth. All of it. Maybe I was wrong before…but I think she’s good for you.”

The truth.She knows more about the events of Mom’s death than anyone else in my family. While I still haven’t told her everything—how, as I relive that day over the years, I recall the arguments I heard and realize I should’ve known all along who was behind her and the other deaths in the family.

How I could’ve stopped Mom from dying that day if I’d stuck around…if I wasn’t so afraid of monsters.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, or so they say. But with HSAM, it’s ten times worse.

But I know that’s not what Casey’s referring to.

Olivia wouldn’t judge me for what happened to Mom. I know that now.

But theothertruth…the one no one knows?

She’ll judge me for it. No one in their right mind will stick around, and I’ll lose her for good.

“She won’t. Have some faith,” he murmurs and my head snaps up.Did I speak my thoughts out loud?

The elevator doors open, and we step out. Patrons, dressed to the nines in glittering costumes, gather in the main atrium to wait for the limos to take us to Casa Rocca Piccola. A bright flash blinds my eyes, and when my vision returns, I spot Greg Masters slinking away, checking his camera.

When I look back for Casey, he’s already gone.

I swallow a gasp as I gape at the surroundings—vaulted ceilings and arched doorways, exposed stonework and iron accents. There’s a surprise around every corner.

I’ve stepped into a piece of history, and now the outfit Lana chose for me makes perfect sense. Shifting on my feet, I tug at the low neckline of my Renaissance-inspired burgundy gown. It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn. The gold brocade shimmers under the dim lighting, and the flowy slashed sleeves drape over my arms.

But while it’s beautiful, half my boobs along with my shoulders are showing. I’ve never been in anything so revealing before.

“Stop yanking at it.” Lana swats my hand away from my dress.

“I feel like I’m one accident away from a wardrobe malfunction. Imagine the headlines, ‘Fleur psychiatrist seen flashing her boobs at the masquerade ball.’”

She snorts. “You’re wearing a mask…no one will know it’s you! And flaunt those girls. They’ve been stifled for too long. And yourhair, woman! I didn’t know you had such gorgeous, thick hair because you always have it in a bun!”

Heat crawls up my skin as I touch the thick braids hanging down to my mid-back, encrusted with glittering gems.

I don’t even know who I am anymore.

Definitely not the woman hiding in the shadows.

It’s terrifying and yet, despite my rickety pulse, there’s a breathlessness, an exhilaration pumping through me.

I’m reminded of the way Rex’s eyes smolder when he sees me and how he calls me bewitching.

How he kisses me like he needs me to breathe.

Bewitching.

Nope. Not thinking about him. Can’t think about him.

I’ve failed far too many times since our tryst in the closet. It was a miracle I stopped us before we took it too far.