Page 60 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Yet.

If he keeps calling me the ‘M’ word, I can’t be blamed if my dagger decides to become acquainted with his locked-up heart.

I wince. Okay, no, I’ll never let that happen.

My phone buzzes, and irritation surges through me at the interruption. I’m in the midst of my daily routine, a moment reserved for shedding precious tears over the asshole.

Fuck that guy.

Why am I wasting tears on him anyway?

Why do I even — Fuck, who keeps calling me, damn it!

“Yes?” I grumble, turning to my back to stare at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Nat sighs, “I know you said you didn’t want to be here, but I need you.”

Her voice sounds urgent, causing me to sit up in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s this guy I recognize.” She explains, “He was wearing a mask just like everyone else, but he took it off for a bit to eat.”

“Who is he?”

“He's just like everyone else,” she sighs, her disappointment palpable. “He used to work for my dad, but he stole so much that ended up causing the start of dad’s spiraling health, Briar... Judging by his outfit, he fetched quite the prices.”

I curse under my breath. When I met Mr. Rogers, he was a charming, extroverted man. But something happened a few years ago that made him cold. Not to me and Nat, thankfully. But to everyone else.

“Have you told your dad?”

“Yup, he said to try and bring back all he stole first and then bring the man to him.”

“If the guy comes up empty?”

“Get rid of him.”

She didn’t need to say anything anymore. When my bestie calls to help her get shit done, I do just that. She’s my ride-or-die. Plus, this may help me get rid of my depressive slump.

Maybe I’ll see Rurik too and congratulate him on —

No. You’re there for work.

God. Fucking. Damn it.

*-*-*-*

“Out of all the masks you chose for me to wear, I got a fucking cat?” I grumble, putting it on and looking at myself in the mirror.

“It’s because you can be so sweet and cute at first but a complete bitch when annoyed,” Nat smirks, putting on her intricate lace mask. “Besides, I thought you like cats?”

“Love them,” I agree, “They’re just a menace wrapped in a cute bundle of fur.”

We exit the bathroom and walk to a secluded corner where we won't be easily spotted. Glancing around, I can't help but grimace. It's strange to be surrounded by so many people yet unable to see their faces. Seeing numerous masks turning in my direction leaves me with a peculiar sensation. I don't know if they're looking at me, and that uncertainty feels oddly unsettling.

“That’s him,” Nat says, nodding across the room.

Tell me why I immediately thought she meant him as in him? As in the asshole I should not be thinking about right now. Fuck, why am I thinking about him again? He hasn’t texted me at all, either.

Dick.

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