Page 12 of Her Vampire, His Ruin

Henrietta scoffs. “I doubt that very much. And two,” she says, jabbing my arm with her finger, “Robert hurt you so many times that even on the occasions you did have sex with him your body clearly shut down, refusing to give you any pleasure because it knew before you did he wasn’t good enough for you.”

She practically screams the last past, and I yank on her arm, glaring at her. “Okay, okay, maybe you’re right.”

“I know I am. Which is why you really need to just let loose and enjoy some carnal sex, even if it is just for one night. You deserve it after fifteen years of marriage to that arsehole.”

“Maybe…” My voice trails off as my hand absentmindedly drifts to the pocket of my trousers and the business card I stuffed in there. Ever the hawk-eye, Henrietta notices.

“What have you got there?”

“Nothing,” I reply, stepping back so she can’t sneak her hand into my pocket.

“Liar. Let me see.” She lunges for me, and before I can stop her, she’s already got her hand in my pocket and is pulling out the business card. “And what is this?”

“I’m not sure,” I say. “It was tucked beneath my hotel room door when I woke up the next morning after meeting Dorian.”

Henrietta stares at the little card, its edges gilded with gold. Both sides are gloss black with absolutely no writing on them. It’s not even embossed in any way.

“Do you think it’s from him?”

“If it is, I don’t understand its purpose. There’s no number on it, nothing to identify him or anything else, for that matter.”

“And if there was something on it, like a contact number, what would you do?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it, that’s for sure. I told you already, I’m not interested in a relationship.”

“I call bullshit. Besides, who said anything about a relationship? How about a nice, old-fashioned fuck?”

I shake my head, letting out a snort of laughter. “You’re incorrigible. I knew I shouldn’t have told you anything.”

“Of course you should’ve. I’m your best friend, and I refuse to believe this beautiful gangster would slide this card under your door just to tease you. It’s a message of some sort. We just have to figure out what that message is.”

“Well, short of returning to the hotel, seeking him out and asking him, I’m not sure how we’re going to do that.”

Henrietta waggles her brows. “It’s not the worst idea in the world.”

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.”

“You don’t want to see him again, then?”

“I said so, didn't I?”

“Then if you didn’t want to see him again… Actually, let me rephrase that, if you weren’t a teensy-tiny bit curious about the man and what this card means, why tuck it in your pocket? Why not leave it at home?”

I blow out a breath. “Okay, fine. I’m intrigued, and I⁠—”

“Knew that I wouldn’t be able to let this go without finding out exactly what your gangster was trying to tell you. I love a good mystery,” she says, clapping her hands together with glee.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” I moan, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Nope,” she replies with a grin. “You’re going to be thanking me when you end up in that man’s bed having multiple orgasms.”

The school bell chimes, interrupting our conversation and telling us it’s the end of playtime. I hold out my hand for the business card, but Henrietta slides it into her pocket and winks at me.

“We’ll reconvene at your place, 7pm tonight. I’ll bring wine and pizza, and you’ll provide Wi-Fi and a laptop. Tonight we’re going to unravel this mystery.”

“Well, I guess that’s that then,” I say around a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

I flick my gaze to the clock hanging on my kitchen wall. It’s almost ten o’clock and, true to her word, Henrietta has spent the entire evening trying, and failing, to figure out what this card means. I’ve come to accept it has nothing to do with Dorian Crow, and honestly, I’m a little relieved. He was too young, too dangerous, and entirely too much of a good kisser. A man like that has trouble written all over him.