Page 78 of Disavowed

She traced the strips of silver beading and sequins running up the sides of the dress with her fingers. She’d been looking forward to wearing it on what should have been a day of celebration, not just for the Piazza and Christopher Shane but for her. For more than one reason, it wasn’t.

The Piazza contract really had been a major coup. Not because it was the most difficult or creative job she’d ever done, but because it represented the level her reputation had risen to in the city’s florist circles. Some people could bask in the glory of their accomplishments and be singularly happy. Not her. Without someone to share those wonderful moments with, it wasn’t the same.

Mom, Dad…you would have been proud of me.

The other reason today failed to imbue her with any excitement was how things had ended with Dom.

“Keep moving,” she whispered. If she slowed down to rehash their last conversation she’d turn into a helpless blob of emotional jelly, unable to take shape let alone stand up.

Uttering a long sigh, she slipped out of her robe and tossed it onto the chaise. Standing in her bedroom wearing only a red thong and matching strapless bra, the cool air was cleansing, and she could analyze things more clearly.

The overwhelmingly morose feelings would pass, but for the moment she had to accept their existence. As she unzipped the dress, her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she hadn’t been able to eat a thing this morning, not even triple-chocolate mousse cake. The chocolate that was normally the cure for anything that ailed her did exactly the opposite. Throwing it out seemed like such a waste, but she could never eat another bite. It would only remind her of what she’d lost. Although Dom had never really been hers to lose. She understood that now. The saddest thing was the more she’d gotten to know him over the last few weeks, the more she’d fallen in love with him. Even the cop part.

She stepped into the dress and put her arm through the one-shoulder opening. Somehow she’d known he hadn’t really been fired by the NYPD. He believed in his job too much, and everything about him screamed cop. Being a detective and fighting the bad guys was so ingrained in both he and Gray, she now understood he’d do anything for the job. Even use her.

Reaching behind her, she yanked up the zipper with more force than necessary. She sat on the bed to slip into a pair of silver beaded stilettos, then stood in front of the mirror. “Not bad.” The dress looked damn good, even to her, and she was normally uber-critical of her body.

The sexy one-shoulder column sheath hugged her breasts, waist, and hips in a way that gave her a flattering hourglass figure. And holy hell, does my waist look tiny? The fabric’s subtle ruching did wonders to accentuate her curves, and the slit on one side that went nearly to her ass displayed her long, toned leg in ways she’d never dreamed of. Then again… Daisy scrunched up her face and dashed to the bathroom as quickly as three-inch stilettos allowed, then stepped on the bathroom scale, shoes and all.

“Oh my God.” She stared in disbelief. “I’ve lost eight pounds.” The ruching certainly contributed to the dress’s killer look, but she’d actually lost weight.

Looking back over the last two weeks, she hadn’t realized the immense stress that had become part of her life. With the Piazza reopening and Dom coming back into her life, she’d been on edge almost every waking hour. And to deal with it she’d increased her Body Combat regimen from three to five times a week.

The cell phone she’d left on a table in the living room began ringing. Stepping off the scale, she hustled to take the call in case there were any last-minute problems with the hotel flowers. When she picked up the phone and looked at the screen, she froze. It was Dom. She held her breath until the call went to voicemail. When it did, she saw that he’d called twice in the last hour.

Don’t do it. Do not call him back.

Very gently, she set the phone on the table. If she didn’t exorcise him from her life once and for all, he’d tear out her heart all over again. Staring at the phone a moment longer, she saw that Jack had also called, but had left no message.

Jack. Another lying bastard.

The idea that she’d had a hired killer working for her made her sick to her stomach. And was it truly a coincidence that Jack had walked into her shop the day after Gus had been seriously injured by a hit-and-run driver? Nausea built in the pit of her stomach as she realized it wasn’t. Jack had hurt Gus horribly, if not tried to kill him outright.

My God, I actually went on a date with him. I even let him kiss me.

Without listening to Dom’s voicemail, she returned to the bathroom and gripped the edge of the vanity, trying not to throw up. She honestly didn’t know what to make of it all.

Dom had said the Piazza’s grand reopening today would be canceled because the Pyramid had targeted Christopher Shane, but she’d spoken directly with Andrew earlier this morning and confirmed the event was still on as scheduled. Andrew had seemed surprised at her inquiry, so what did that mean? Dom had warned her to stay away from the hotel, but was he wrong about this whole thing? He had to be. Either way, she suspected Dom would be there in case anything happened.

“Dammit.” She parked her fists on the vanity. No one would keep her from that hotel. She’d worked too hard for this event, and she intended to be there. She’d earned it.

She leaned toward the mirror to reexamine her makeup. A heavy application of eyeliner and mascara made her eyes appear sultry and sexy while the shimmery, pale pink lipstick accented the silvery beads and sequins running up the sides of her dress. Long three-inch rhinestone drop earrings dangled from her ears, and a thick matching bracelet completed the ensemble.

Daisy took a deep breath. “I can do this. I. Can. Do this.”

The doorbell rang and she gasped, startled and yet thankful for the interruption. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. A man wearing a ball cap stood outside her door. With his back to the door, she couldn’t see his face, but in his arms he carried of all things—flowers.

If he thinks all he has to do is send me flowers…

She twisted the lock and pulled the door open, preparing to decline the delivery.

The man turned and smiled. “Ms. Fowler,” he said.

She noted his use of her name was a statement, not a question, as if he already knew who she was. And how did he get into her building? Sure, Dom had managed to gain entry without buzzing her apartment first, but she already knew him to be persuasive and charming enough to gain entry to just about anywhere. Then again, delivery guys posed no threat and were often let in by other tenants, too.

“Yes,” she answered, feeling somewhat more at ease. “Are those for me?”

The man took a step forward, even though she hadn’t invited him in. And she couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about his body language put her instantly on edge. Then his smile disappeared, and the look in his eyes went from pleasant to mean. Every instinct in her body told her this man meant to do her harm.