“I was just checking to see what you’re bringing to Book Club tonight. I’m kind of coordinating things this time,” she says, tactfully changing the subject.
“Oh, um…” I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. “I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. I might stop by Publix and get a fruit tray, I guess.”
“Forget the fruit tray—if you’re going by Publix get some fresh Cuban bread and some butter,” Tasha says. “Mmm, I can taste it now.”
I have to smile at the dreamy sound of her voice.
“You and your bread. If there’s anybody who loves carbs more than me, it has to be you,” I tell her.
“That’s right.” Tasha is completely unrepentant about it. “You know how I am with those bottomless pasta bowl deals—I always find the bottom. I know an Olive Garden hates to see me coming!”
I snort laughter. Talking to Tasha always makes me feel better no matter how shitty things are.
“All right—I’ll get you some Cuban bread with butter,” I promise.
“And some guava jam!” she puts in. “Get some of that too.”
“You got it. Now you’d better let me go—I still have to walk all the way to my car in the heat.” If my voice sounds pitiful it’s because I feel pitiful. The Florida heat is no joke. It’s aggressive and unrelenting, not to mention sticky and disgusting and awful and…I really need to move to New England, like I’ve been dreaming of for the past ten years.
“Okay, see you soon. Hey—are you safe?” she asks, clearly concerned about me.
“Safe enough,” I say. “He went down the elevator five minutes ago. I’m just giving him time to clear out before I go down and head to my car.”
Which I should not have to do! I wish I had the money to talk to a lawyer about Donald. Maybe Lucia will be at Book Club tonight—she’s a paralegal. Of course, the lawyer she works for is a divorce attorney, but maybe she could still give me some advice.
“I’d better stay on the phone with you just in case,” Tasha says cautiously. “What if something happens?”
“Nothing’s going to happen.” But I don’t hang up when the elevator dings again. I get into the empty car and chat with Tasha as I ride down to the bottom.
Though I’d usually rather text, having her voice in my ear makes me feel safe and cared for. She really is a great friend. But then, all the girls in my Book Club are. They’re the real reason I don’t pull up roots and move to New England, where I could experience all four seasons, especially fall, which I would love.
She doesn’t hang up with me until I reach my car and I promise again to get her the Cuban bread with butter and jam to go with it.
“See you soon,” she tells me. “And then you can give me details—if you want to.”
I probably will—I need to vent. But for now, I just want to get out of the heat. Even walking a block in downtown Tampa with the sun glaring down at me and the humidity at almost one hundred percent has made patches of sweat bloom in the middle of my back and under my armpits. I swear sometimes I wish I could be skinny just so I wouldn’t sweat as much!
Tasha and I blow kisses at each other and hang up. I get into my furnace of a car and turn the AC on immediately. The plastic of the steering wheel burns my hands and I have to drive with my fingertips and keep the windows rolled down to blow the burning air out as my poor little Civic chugs along, the AC on high, doing its best to cool down the interior.
I head for Publix, anticipating Book Club and thinking how much I wish I could work someplace else besides S&S—anywhere else.
I have no idea that I’ve just finished my last normal day of work and I’m about to have the last normal evening of my life.
4
Lucian
There she is—my Queen.
The sight of her curvy body, her shining eyes, the way she bites her lower lip when she’s nervous—it’s enough to make my fangs ache. I watch her in the obsidian surface as clearly as if I stood beside her. The Crimson Eye never fails me.
And then it happens—the vermin dares to touch her!
The human male she works with—Donald Pugh, I believe she calls him—passes behind her and uses his filthy fingers to pinch her lush behind. She jumps and cries out—but he just laughs at her—laughs at the careless way he violated her.
A sound rumbles low in my throat, primal and dangerous. The growl shakes the crystal chalice on my desk until wine slops over the rim. My guards shift uneasily outside the door, hearing the menace in my voice but not daring to enter.
How dare he?
