Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Here’s the mask,” she says, snagging Devereaux’s credit card from his hand. “Isn’t it exquisite?” She offers me a white and gold lace mask with feathers.
I hold it up to my face in the mirror and it matches the dress perfectly. “I love it,” I tell her as Devereaux steps closer.
“It’s perfect,” he says. “You’ll be my swan tonight.”
His.
My heart hurts at the realization that this can’t be my forever life. I’m having real feelings for Devereaux, but I’m not here to fall in love. I’m here to catch a killer.
After purchasing the dress and mask, we walk out of the store and Devereaux grabs my hand.
“Are you hungry? There’s a little cafe around the corner.”
I peer up at him. “Yes, it sounds great.”
Two steps down the sidewalk, Ashley and my mother come around the corner.
Mom spots me right away, and I drop Devereaux’s hand.
Fuck.
I give my mother a look of don’t talk to me, but it’s too late.
“Chloe, what are you doing here?” my mother asks, bringing me in for a hug.
Ashley’s eyes flash with unease when she sees I’m with Devereaux. “Mom, let’s get going. I have to be back at the office by three.”
But it’s no use.
There’s no getting out of this awkward and unwanted meeting.
Devereaux lights up. “Well, who is this?” he asks me.
I fidget with the strap of my handbag, fighting the urge to flee and never be seen again. “Devereaux, this is my mother, Sharon.” They shake hands.
“And this is my sister, Ashley,” I tell him.
He shakes my sister’s hand. “You look familiar,” he says to her and I smooth my sweaty palms on my hips.
“I don’t know why,” Ashley says, her eyes looking to mine for help. She knows this impromptu meeting is not good.
“So, how do you know Chloe?” my mother asks Devereaux.
“I’m her boss,” he says ever so charmingly.
I feel like I might get sick right here. At least that would end this meeting.
“Oh, you’re a—”
“Yikes! Sorry to be rude,” Ashley cuts in, “but if I’m not back at work, they’ll fire me.”
“What?” Mom says, completely distracted. “They’d never fire you.”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it in the car.” Ashley drags her away. “Nice meeting you, Devereaux. I’ll call you later, Chloe,” she throws over her shoulder.
“Chloe,” he whispers, and chills skate through my body at the sound of Devereaux saying my real name for the first time.
“Hi, that’s me.” My cheeks flame hot, and I feel naked now that he’s finally seeing the real me.
“I like it.” He repeats the name a few times, letting the syllables roll off his tongue.
My mother turns around, waving at us from across the street. I want to hide. Seriously.
Devereaux waves goodbye. “So, that’s the family, huh?”
I’m so nervous about my cover being blown, but I keep my voice steady. “Yep. That’s them. My mother doesn’t know I work at a sex club, so Ashley took her out of here before she finds out.”
Devereaux accepts my answer. “We still have time to eat. The cafe is just up here.”
I’m no longer in the mood for food, but I follow Devereaux to the little cafe.
After we’re seated and order our lunch, Devereaux stares at me.
“How old were you when you lost your father?” he asks.
“How did you know I lost my father?”
“Just putting the clues together.”
I sigh. “I was twelve. He was in a car accident. Drunk driver.”
He reaches a hand across the table. “I’m so sorry.” His voice is tender with a degree of warmth and concern.
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” I try to fight back the tears that always appear when I think about my father.
“I was a little older when I lost my mother.”
I think back to Devereaux’s file. There’s not much written about his upbringing. “Was your father a bad man?”
Devereaux chuckles. “I guess you could say that. He never cared much for us. We were more of a prized possession than his children.”
The server drops off my salad and Devereaux’s pan-seared chicken. When she’s gone, I ask him to explain what he means about his father.
“He liked to show us off. ‘Look at me, I’m a great father to these children.’” He picks up his fork. “But when we got home, he couldn’t care less if we had dinner before bed. He’d sit in his office, drinking himself into a coma.”
“Because he missed your mom?”
This question makes Devereaux laugh. “I don’t know. Yeah, I guess.”
“I’m sorry.” Now, it’s my turn to reach a hand across the table. Devereaux gives a half-smile and changes the subject, asking me about my mom and sister. I give him safe, generic information and when there’s a lull in the conversation, I ask, “How come you don’t hire blondes?”
He sets his cutlery on his plate. “My mother had blonde hair. I guess I just didn’t want the reminder.” He studies me for a moment before saying, “Sometimes, I feel like you have the same gravitational pull she did.” He smiles. “She had this way about her. It made everyone want to be around her. She’d walk into a room and all eyes would be on her.”