Page 40 of Sinful Sacrifice

“Here we are,” Genesis says, parking in front of Serenebelle, an upscale spa nestled between New York skyscrapers.

Not that I’ve ever stepped foot inside.

The local news recently showcased it as the city’s premier spa destination. Celebrities come here. I also stumbled upon a blog post titled, “Places in New York None of Us Peasants Can Afford.” Serenebelle was listed as number three.

I follow them into the spa, and a gentle breeze carries the scent of essential oils through the air. The desk clerk beams, circles the counter, and greets Genesis and Darcy by name.

“This is our friend Pippa,” Darcy introduces.

“Susie!” calls out the clerk, whose name tag reads Vera.

A frazzled blonde—Susie, I assume—scrambles toward us, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. Only minus the champagne. There isn’t a trace of fizziness in them.

“Care for a spagarita?” Susie asks, already handing me one.

I smile, taking it from her. Taking a sip, I taste a lavender-infused water and refreshing tang of lemon.

It’s also giving no liquor.

“We’ll do facials first, then massages, then hair and nails,” Vera says, motioning us forward.

The spa is a peaceful oasis, a vacation within the chaos of the city. Soothing music plays in the background, combined with the gentle sound of a waterfall flowing along the path to the changing rooms. Vera leads me into a room where a robe that smells like the spagarita hangs on a hook.

If you don’t count the five-dollar face masks I buy, this is my first true facial and spa experience.

I undress, slip on the robe, and check my phone.

No calls or texts from Damien.

Frowning, I gather my hair into a lopsided ponytail and join Genesis and Darcy in the facial room. They’re sitting next to each other in massage chairs. I smile at each of them before taking the chair beside Darcy. As I settle and turn on my massage settings, the estheticians enter the room, starting our facials.

“Thank you for attending the funeral with Damien.” Darcy slips her gaze to me. “He probably won’t admit it, but it relaxed him. I could tell.”

“Agreed.” Genesis nods and sips her spagarita.

My face softens at the compliment. “You and Melissa were best friends?” I ask, referring to Damien’s sister.

“Since we were babies.” Genesis gestures toward Darcy. “Our parents called us the Trouble Trio.”

“Her death has been hard,” Darcy adds. “When Damien called and asked us to bring you here, it kind of brightened our day. It’s nice, getting out of the house.”

“Serenebelle was Mel’s favorite,” Genesis says. “We always came here for her birthday. Damien’s treat.” Her face mask gets smudged when she wipes a tear off her cheek.

The esthetician leans in and fixes it for her.

Darcy grabs Genesis’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “She’ll always be here with us.”

Genesis sniffles and nods.

Darcy gives Genesis’s hand another squeeze before flitting her gaze to me. “Melissa would’ve liked you. You’re good for Damien.”

I shift in my chair. “Has he done this for any other woman?”

“No,” Genesis replies with total certainty. “And we’d know since he would’ve asked Mel to do it.”

I smile to myself at her response.

Only me.

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