Not what I expected to hear. I recline and put my feet up on the desk, frowning at the ceiling. “How much time do they spend near him? Perhaps it’s just behind closed doors.”
“Apparently, they stay with the family when they’re in from out of town.” The PI lowers his voice. “He’s too cheap to put them up in a hotel. Besides, I talked to staff he had for years. They all liked the girl. One of their retired maids broke down when I said what I was investigating.”
“Somebody caused the injuries. Statistics say it’s likely it happened inside the home.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, man. There’s nothing there.” He pauses for a moment. “Ciprian Petrovic is a violent person with a horrendous track record but everyone I spoke to just had praise for how he raised his daughter.” Another long pause. “She had another parent, you know.”
Yeah. A dead one.
I hang up the call, annoyed that my paid contractor didn’t give me the all-clear I wanted to get rid of Crimson’s father. Since I suppose the investigator is telling the truth, I guess Ciprian deserves the benefit of the doubt.
Not much benefit.
A whole lot of doubt.
I clear up a few overhanging tasks until it’s almost time to leave. After showering and changing, I tap on Crimson’s door. She opens it so quickly, she must’ve been standing ready. It’s the same dress that she didn’t have the chance to venture out in yesterday. The dark red not only matches to the high colour in her cheeks but the new ring sparkling on her finger.
“You look incredible.” I take her hand and spin her away from me for a better view. If anything, it looks even better on her than it did yesterday. “Will you be warm enough? I can fetch you a jacket.”
“Won’t we be inside?” I nod. “Then I’ll be fine.”
Her lips are coated in palest pink, and I frown, walking her into the bathroom where the new makeup supplies are scattered across the bench. Normally, I hate disorder, but the mess makes me smile. It looks like she lives here.
Which she does, of course, but it’s one thing to know it, another to see.
The only pity is that I set her up in this separate space. I make a mental note to remedy that situation. Possibly tonight.
“Can I try something?” I wait for her nod, before snatching a tissue and wiping the pale lipstick off. I choose another colour, far darker, blood red, and apply it, dabbing it with the tissue again before applying a second coat. “That’s better.”
It turns her lips from a young girl into those of a woman. Her hair is held on either side with diamante combs, and I spray some gloss mist into my hand and apply it to the back ringlets sparingly, so they catch the light.
“I didn’t pick you as a makeup artist,” she jibes, staring with uncertain eyes into the long mirror.
“One of my many hobbies.” I gaze in wonder at her reflection, making a few last adjustments to her hair. If my friends hadn’t gone out of their way to meet her tonight, I would cancel the outing and peel the clothes right off her gorgeous form. “Perfect. Time to go.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
CRIMSON
In the back of the car on the short drive, I try to stare at Micah without him seeing me. Even when I steal brief glances from beneath lowered lashes, he keeps meeting my eyes. I think I’ve managed it when I catch his reflection in the darkened divider screen but no, a second later he finds my gaze there, too.
Today has been so weird. It feels like a million years since this morning when our walk along the street was interrupted by the detective.
To test out my new phone, I’ve already left yet another message for my father, so far unanswered. A situation that I hope resolves before the wedding because I don’t want our first interaction since the party to be on such an emotionally charged day.
I rub my nose and the weight of my engagement ring startles me as it has done at least once an hour since I started wearing it. Even travelling through the city after dark, it reflects so much light that it seems to create its own glow.
Tomorrow, I’ll remember to thank Micah more than I did today. The array of jewels left me so awestruck that I struggled to pick one. I owe him more than a grateful smile.
Even at the time, I knew I should do better, but it was hard to react appropriately when I felt so much uncertainty.
Stupid. A ring shouldn’t make any difference. My dad gave me some beautiful jewellery on Monday, and it didn’t bestow this weird sense of obligation.
All that Micah did today should make me feel welcome. More than I was just yesterday when I struggled to work out what my place here should be. It does… but it also reminds me this is happening. It’s all happening.
Micah negotiating behind closed doors with my father is one thing. Putting a new house worth of jewellery on my finger is quite another.
I wish we had more time. My feelings stir, but everything still feels like far too much, far too soon. Like we’re trying to cram a courtship’s worth of emotions into a few days.
