Page 134 of Sinful Sacrifice

He points toward the opposite end of the foyer.

“Thanks. Cernach asked me to tell you he’d like to speak with you.”

It’s a lie, but I don’t want eyes on me.

Odhrán is no younger than sixty, and every time I see him, he’s wearing a fedora over his bald head. A Celtic tattoo runs up his neck, matching the one on Cernach’s hand.

Odhrán nods, and I pretend to walk in the direction he indicated.

As soon as he disappears inside Cernach’s office, I turn in the opposite direction. It’s time to see the woman I’m not supposed to touch.

45

I get the luxury of staying at Cernach’s prison of a mansion tonight.

After the engagement dinner, my mom left in my car with Lanie, and I rode here with my aunt and grandmother. During the drive, my grandmother, who I’ve only met twice, asked me if I was going to lose weight when it was time for my wedding.

I can’t wait to get the fuck out of Boston.

Cernach has stained it for me indefinitely.

I tried to tell them I’d stay in a hotel, but Cernach refused. Probably thought I’d make a run for it.

So, now, I’m here, a princess trapped in the dark castle, waiting for Prince Charming to save me. Only first, he needs to stop by Cernach’s office and sign a contract.

I’m flipping through possible Netflix movies to watch when my phone vibrates with a text.

Damien: Let me in.

My pulse charges in my throat.

I flick my attention from the two-story window to the door.

Let him in from where?

Is he being metaphorical, like let him back into my life?

Or literal, like open something?

I jump out of bed at the light knock on the door.

My head buzzes as I tiptoe toward the door and crack it open. As soon as it’s ajar an inch, Damien forces it open and walks inside. I stare at him warily while he shuts the door with his heel and locks it.

“What are you doing?” I hiss. “Cernach has cameras all over this place.”

I lost count of how many I noticed while walking upstairs.

Damien breezily walks toward the closet like no big deal and opens it.

“How did you even get up here?”

“Cernach invited me.” He jerks clothing Cernach provided for me off the hangers and tosses them on the bed.

“Cernach invited you?” I repeat slowly.

Cool as a cucumber, he draws out a bottle of his signature cologne from his blazer pocket. I lose track of my train of thought when he starts spraying the clothing and bed.

And by spray, I mean, absolutely dousing them.

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