Without giving her the chance to run, I had caught her and pulled her in with force, swallowing her gasp for my own. Her mouth had tasted like mint. Scarlett had always been obsessed with oral hygiene and had just brushed her teeth. I remembered smelling it on her clothes, along with the fresh, sweet scent of roses.
My hot hands seemed to burn through the thin fabric of her sweater, all the way to her chilled skin. Desperation hit me harder than a frigid wave. Keeping her close was all that mattered. She had denied me though. Not something that sat well with a man like me.
Given the circumstances, I decided to give her time. Five long seconds. That’s all I had left.
I heard a knock and my eyes rose from the hardwood floor. I heard Mick say, “I brought your bag.” He peeked his head in, smiling, the smell of coffee and pastries wafting off of his clothes. “Figured you might want it.”
I took my bag and thanked him. After a quick shower, I combed my hair back while it was still wet, since the reflection in the mirror resembled a feral beast on the hunt instead of a man. The dark circles underneath my eyes did nothing to improve this impression.
She’s fucking killing me.
I dressed in turmoil—black sweater, dark jeans, and black boots. I didn’t even bother with cologne. The one I used was the same one I had found on the floor. If the smell came off of another man, even on the street, my mind, along with all resolve, might snap.
Mick, Emilia, and Colette were in the front room. Colette and Emilia sat on the sofa, sipping something out of deep, white mugs. Mick was on one of the chairs, eating a pastry. He lifted it up when he noticed me.
“Scarlett made these. I didn’t know she could cook.”
She had, for an army. A platter of the pastries had been laid out on the kitchen counter—all filled with jellied fruit—with fresh squeezed orange juice and a carafe of coffee.
“Pff!” Colette waved a hand, crumbs falling down the front of her shirt. “She took a class. She used to cook during her downtime, but she has abstained from any culinary pursuits as of late.”
“Remember the time we found her on the floor?” Emilia said, going through more pictures on the table.
I set the carafe down. I knew about the cooking class.
“Oui.We came home to the most delicious aromas. We walk into the apartment and the smells are present, and also a shattered window.” Colette nodded to one of the front panes. “But we do not find Scarlett. She made the bird she cooked fly again!”
“Meaning,” Emilia said, a grin on her face, “she threw the bird out of the window. We found it out front after we found her on the floor, directly in front of the closed oven.”
“Why was she on the floor?” Mick asked. His eyes met mine in a subtle gesture that meant he’d find out for me.
“We do not know.” Colette shrugged. “She does not talk to us much.”
“She was upset and defeated,” Emilia said, distracted by another photo. This time the photograph in her hand resembled a pimple. She used a magnifying glass to search it. “There was a delivery last night. I did not want to disturb the two of you.”
Colette popped up, disappearing down the hall, before she reappeared with a vase of black magic roses as big as her head. She plopped the arrangement down on the counter, water sloshing over the sides.
“For Scarlett,” she said, closing her eyes and inhaling one of the stems. “They came late into the night. Strange.” She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “The others come on the eleventh of every month like clockwork.Roses écarlates.”
Enough of them had been sent that I knew the words meantscarlet roses.
Mick’s eyebrows drew in. “Who sends roses in the middle of the night?”
Colette grinned. “A rich man.” She plucked the card, cleared her throat, and proceeded to read it in French. Then she said, “That is… Dear Lady Dance, I dream of you. May you dream of our kiss in Sub Rosa. Signed, Olivier Nemours.”
“When he says Sub Rosa, he means in secret,” Emilia added unnecessarily.
Mick looked at me, the flowers, and then at Colette and Emilia. His eyebrows drew in even further, but he kept silent. Though Colette’s eyes were playful, I found her to be taunting. Something about her rubbed me the wrong way. On paper, she checked out. In person, a chink was missing in her chain.
“By the way,” Mick said, eyes hard on the window that had been broken, “Scarlett has some fancy to-do tonight. Violet went to watch her rehearse this morning. Afterward, Scarlett offered to treat her to a day of shopping. She doesn’t get out much. With the boys and all. So I told them to go ahead. We would spend the day together.”
“She also invited you,” Emilia said, looking at me through her glasses. “To thefête.”
Emilia seemed decent enough—strange, but decent. After a minute of her searching gaze, I half expected her to use the magnifying glass on me.
“After,” Colette said, plucking a rose from the bunch. She waved it in front of her face. “Off you go to a secret Pareeh nightclub.”
There it was again, the taunting edge.Just fuckingsay it. I’ll find out soon enough.She must have understood my silent demand. She shrugged, so carefree, yet with a slight edge.
