Page 99 of A Little Naughty

And I won’t be here next time.

I’m at the edge of the truck when the lean man in the black coat turns to the side, and recognition like ice shoots through my veins. His face is painted white with black lines to create a skull.Shadow Man. It’s Bill.

My throat closes, and the binoculars fall from my hand, hitting the pavement with a loud clatter. Black eyes lock on mine, and it’s too late. He sees me.

CHAPTER27

JEMIMA

It’s too quiet after Raif leaves. The gun sits on the table like a warning, and I want to be as far away from it as possible.

If he really thought Bill was coming here, would he just leave me like that? It’s not like him, and it makes me nervous, like something has happened and everything is different. I’ve stepped through the mirror, and I’m in a world where danger is all around and everyone is slightly mad.

“Stop it, Jemima,” I scold myself. “You’re imagining things.”

It’s after 3 a.m. It was a crazy busy night of people in masks and dancing and mystery all around. I go to the small bathroom and turn on the water in the tub. Then I pour a scoop of lavender bath salts into the flow.

It doesn’t have to be madness and evil. It can be mystery and intrigue.

Standing in the dim room, a tingle on my shoulder makes me look behind me. Nothing is there, but it gives me a chill.

I didn’t imagine the worry in Raif’s eye, the guilt in his expression. He tried to act like it was nothing. He said he’d be back before dawn, but I could sense something was wrong. Why would he feel guilty? Is it because he is?

No. I shake those doubts away. I know my husband better than that.

Going into my bedroom, I place my white lace panties and a thin, white nightgown on the bed. The gown is thigh high and essentially see-through, and I imagine wearing it for Raif when he gets back.

My dark areolas are visible through the thin fabric, and I can rub his shoulders with the essential oil Frangelica gave me. It’s essence of sandalwood…

Massage always leads to sex, and I have to focus on what we’ll do when he comes home.

Frangelica also gave me two candles when I interviewed her. One is sage and the other is tuberose. Together they make the most interesting, clean, relaxing fragrance.

Sage drives out evil spirits, she told me. I light it at once, waving my hand over it to spread the good juju around our home.

“Go away, evil spirits,” I whisper as I walk into the bathroom.

Switching off the water, I place it and the rose one on the counter. They’re the only light in the room, and I take off my clothes, stepping into the steamy, fragrant bath.

My hair is up, and I try to calm my anxious mind.

It keeps trying to go to the night my mother died, the chaos and confusion, the swirling lights of the sirens and the pushing of the EMS workers. The only thing that helped me be calm was singing.

I climbed into my mother’s bed, and I sang a song… What was it?

The only song in my head tonight is “Blue Jeans” by Lana del Rey. It’s a flash of realization in my chest, and it’s been growing and growing for so long, since that first night on the beach.I will love him til the end of time…

After so long being strong, surviving, taking care of myself and staying out of trouble, he created a place where I can breathe.

He’ll fight for me so I can stop fighting. He’s a bad boy, but he’s mine. I don’t have to be afraid anymore, because the look in his eye, the way he stepped to Bill tonight at the gala, saystouch her and die.

Closing my eyes, I focus on the first day I saw him in October—blue jeans, white shirt, brown hair falling over one blue eye, a naughty grin. He looked at me the way I looked at him, like we knew it was all over for us. He smiled, and I did my very best flirt, thankful I’d worn a short skirt to show off my long legs.

Long legs… A man reaches up to grab my ankle on the stage, and I kick him in the head. Shouting breaks out. He smashes a drink and tries to climb onstage. The bouncer pulls him back, but I see Trixie’s scowl.Counting out my money… You antagonize the customers. They’re not supposed to touch me. This isn’t a strip club. I’m a singer—Taylor Swift. You’re no Taylor Swift, but you could be Lana del Rey.Slimy grin, lecherous eyes getting closer…

With a sharp inhale, my eyes jerk open. I fell asleep in the tub, and I don’t know what time it is.

The water has turned cold. Stepping out, I grab the towel and pull the drain. The candles have burned down, and I blow them out as I dry my body.

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