Page 69 of Golden Burn

The seamstress’ earlier question comes back to me, as loud as a foghorn.“No bachelorette party?”

Suddenly, my mood shifts. Why shouldn’t I be given a night of fun right before my wedding? Why should I be stripped of every tradition just because this marriage is anything but traditional?

But more than that, I want to experience something other than bone crushing sadness. I want to go to a club and grind on everyone on the dance floor. I want to kiss a stranger, maybe fuck in an alleyway. I’mfeeling erratic, irreverent. I want to throw myself at someone and have them meet me halfway.

I want to stop imagining Odin coming to me in the middle of the night, apologizing for his behavior by kissing me fiercely and taking my body into his sweet embrace to show me how much he doesn’t hate me.

I turn to Gwen. “Can we go shopping instead?”

Her smile is strained. “Of course.” She relays the new plans to Ford, who watches me cautiously. Neither one of them offers another suggestion. If this will make me less of a walking ghost, then they will do it.

We hop in a taxi and head to the Piazza di Spagna, famous for the Spanish Steps. The streets spanning out from this tourist hotspot are the perfect place to find all the high-end products and spend someone else’s money.

The rich red and peach-colored buildings with classic architecture crowd the block, and for the first time this morning, I take them in and appreciate their artistry.

Gwen and Ford chat idly as I walk into shops outfitted with marble and black accented shelves. The shop assistants greet me casually until I grab all the expensive dresses and they cue into the fact that I have a bodyguard and an assistant. I try on a dozen different dresses, shoes and accessories. I buy makeup from multiple stores and eat two servings of gelato.

We break for a late lunch, but don’t stay long after the pasta and pizza have been consumed. I’m like an energizer bunny. Restored and fully charged, ready to move even if it’s in the wrong direction. Ford can already tell that something is up with me.

It’s not till we make it back to the hotel, my arms full of bags and bags of products, that he finally breaks. “So, how do you plan to sneak out?”

I keep my face blank. “Haven’t decided yet. Heels will make it hard to climb out the window.”

We step into the elevator, the space between us charged. “Do you know where you’re going to go?”

“No. Just thought I’d ask the concierge.”

He grunts. Displeased, but also not angry. “Are you going to let me come with you?”

“No,” I say firmly. “I want to… I want to be by myself.”

The elevator door opens, and we head into the apartment. Odin’s cologne hits me instantly and I forget that I’m supposed to be staying with Martise. It seems I want to go to him even though I shouldn’t. My feet take me there even when my conscience reminds me not to.

It’s his fault I’m here. His fault Cerbera burnt down my clinic. It’s his fault I’ll forever be angry.

Shaking my head, I dump all the bags in my bedroom and come back out to address Ford and his concern. “I can handle myself.”

He crosses his arms and leans back on the nearest couch. “Did last night’s little ‘show and tell’ not convince you of how dangerous this situation is?”

“I’ll call you if something happens.”

His expression is resigned. “No.”

“Ford… please.” I sigh and slump into the nearest dining room chair. My head is in my hands before I can catch my neck. “I just need to forget for a little while. And if you come, I’ll be forced to remember.”

Ford looks torn. “I’ll send another agent. Someone you don’t know.”

“No.” I grunt through my clenched teeth.

“Why?”

I sit up, my throat tight and angry. “They might stopme.”

“Stop you from doing what?” Ford asks, confused. He steps closer to me, invading my space, poking me. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“None of your business.”

“Etta, come on, just tell me. I’m not going to let you leave alone.”

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