Page 48 of Graveyards & Greed
I didn’t know what the bastard wanted me to say, but I could feel my temper slipping and if I didn’t get out now, I was going to explode all over him. “I need to go. We can talk tomorrow.”
“No, Killer. We can talk right now before you build those walls any higher.”
Looking around, I saw one of my hoodies hanging on the back of a bar stool. I grabbed it and strode toward the bedroom. “Or we can not talk at all, and I can text you about a plan.”
He walked in and stood watching me as I grabbed my bag off the closet floor and put it on the bench at the bottom of his bed.
“What are you afraid of?”
I hung my head and took a deep breath. Most of my clothes were already in the bag, so it didn’t take me long to pack, but I needed my cosmetics. I went to the bathroom and haphazardly gathered my things.
“Did you hear me?” he asked quietly as I walked past him to throw my toiletry bag in.
“Yes, because I’m good at multi-tasking. I can listen, ignore, and then forget what you say all at once.” I stopped short and took a deep breath, reining in my anger, hurt, and frustration, then turned to him. “Our bet was for one week, and I fulfilled those terms.”
When his face went dark, I held my hand up. “This week with you has been good.” I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Better than good. But I need to process what’s happening and take care of a few things.”
He growled in frustration and grabbed my shoulders. “Quit being a coward and talk to me.”
My composure broke, and I shoved at his chest. “Isawthose women this afternoon on your security camera. You can tell me it was nothing, but they seemed pretty damn happy to see you, and it didn’t look like it’d been ‘a while’ since you last hooked up with them. I’m not… I can’t share or be one of your random fuck buddies. If I decide to have a relationship again, it will be with someone who wants only me.” I smacked my palm to my chest.Fuck!I didn’t want to do this.
He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t invite them here. They aren’t–”
I held up a hand. “Don’t. Just… don’t. Not right now.” To my horror, a lump formed in my throat, and my eyes went misty. Turning away, I blindly grabbed my purse.
Drakos put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Alright. Leave if you need to, but tomorrow night we’re going to talk.” He carefully reached out and cupped the side of my face, then slowly leaned in and kissed me. I should have pulled back or pushed him away again, but his calloused fingers felt so good. This time, his kiss wasn’t frantic or hard, but gentle and lingering. Damn him. A soft sob escaped me, and I stepped back.
He let me go and studied my face. “Go ahead and pull back. Build your defenses again if you need to. But remember, no matter how much you deny the truth, it still exists, and our truth started that night out in the desert.” My heart seemed to crack in half, and I turned away to finish gathering my things so he wouldn’t see the carnage.
Milo drove me home, eyeing my face a few times before wisely leaving me alone. I was grateful for his silence. I didn’t have it in me to make conversation while my heart bled out.
Chapter 19
Sylvie
On Monday morning when I checked my schedule, I groaned in dread. Ms. Julia Simpson Miller Schatzman was my first appointment of the day. I wasn’t in the mood for her catty gossip or shallow digs. Julia was there to arrange husband number three’s funeral, and she’d just turned forty. The woman wore a lowcut black cocktail dress and red-soled stilettos while oozing fake grief for her dead husband, who was at least thirty years her senior. I had to give it to Julia, she was a dependable, repeat customer.
The woman’s heavy, floral perfume wafted through the mortuary consultation room, and I felt a tension headache coming on. “Such a tragedy,” she sighed, dabbing at non-existent tears. “But life goes on.”
“That it does. Let me show you some options.”
As she perused the caskets, Julia’s expensive perfume with hints of lavender trailed behind her as my stomach twisted and I fought back memories. She went for the cheapest casket and didn’t order any flowers for the top.
As we were finishing up, she turned to me. “Aren’t you friends with Luna Cross? What do you know about her and Roman Fowler?”
“That they are married and seem happy,” I responded, my tone professional.
“I hear he’s a member of The Emporium,” she whispered conspiratorially, leaning in as if we were sharing secrets.
I blinked and kept my face neutral. “Would you like Ezra to conduct a short service, or do you have it covered?” Her crassness at wanting to discuss The Emporium and digging for gossip while planning her husband’s funeral made me want to slap some decorum into her.
“You think he takes her there?” she asked as she checked her lipstick in a compact mirror.
I shrugged. “Do you want any references for a headstone?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No. Randall wants to be buried next to his first wife. What do you know about Drakos Creed? A friend of my hair stylist’s brother said he saw Drakos at The Emporium one time with Roman. He said Drakos whipped a woman’s pierced nipples and vagina, then flipped her over and had anal sex with her while Roman used her mouth. Let’s just say those men's appetites areperverse.”
She looked disgusted and enthralled as she fanned herself with one of our brochures and slyly watched my face. Did this woman somehow know about Drakos and me?
