Page 54 of Turmoil's Target

CHAPTER TWELVE

Seraphina

Rita calls out as she pulls up to my building in her cherry red convertible. “Ready to go?”

I grab my Burberry tote and walk right up to her car.

The morning sun beats down on the palms lining the building.

A perfect day for some pampering and girl talk.

“You know it,” I say, sliding into the buttery leather passenger seat. “I’ve been dreaming about this hot stone massage all week.”

Rita flashes me a mischievous grin as we zip through the guard-gated entrance. “And I’ve been dying to hear all the juicy details about you and a certain man you can’t get enough of.”

I roll my eyes but can’t hold back a smile.

Since that night at the club with Abe, my mind has been replaying it on a loop.

The feel of his calloused hands on my skin, the possessive fire in his eyes.

But I can’t let myself get carried away.

This thing between us is strictly physical.

No feelings, no strings.

That’s how it has to be, considering my true purpose for being in Vegas.

I tease, slipping on my oversized Chanel sunglasses. “Oh please, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“Ha! Since when?” Rita scoffs goodnaturedly. “Come on Sera, spill! I need to live vicariously through your sexcapades.”

I hesitate, chewing on my crimson-painted lower lip.

I know I can trust Rita, but the less people know about my...personal business, the better.

Still, it would be nice to get her take on things.

Maybe she can help me make sense of the unfamiliar feelings swirling inside me lately.

Feelings I absolutely cannot entertain if I’m going to pull off my family’s revenge plot against the Reapers Rejects MC.

I need to keep my eye on the prize.

I don’t need any distractions.

Ugh, I’ll talk to her about it later, after we can give me some time to relax.

We make our way to the spa and soon enough the massage therapist’s expert hands work out the knots in my shoulders as I spill the details to Rita in a hushed voice. “Abe and I...it’s just sex. Really hot, mind-blowing sex, but things are complicated now. More complicated than ever. Now we’re not just fucking.”

Rita lifts her head from the massage table, eyebrow arched skeptically. “Holy fucking shit. I see the way you two look at each other. I knew there was way more going on than just ‘fucking’, as you so eloquently put it.”

I avoid her probing gaze, focusing instead on the soothing scent of lavender oil permeating the room. “I’m serious, Rita. We both just got in it for the physical release. Bloody hell, I knew emotions would just complicate things. And look at me now,”

“Mhmm, keep telling yourself that, honey,” Rita says, unconvinced. “But I know you, Sera. I can tell he’s gotten under your skin. So spill—what really happened with you two?”

Sighing, I recount the events at the club a few nights ago—how Abe went all caveman, beating the crap out of some creep who got handsy with me. “It was so primal, the way he defended me...like I was his.” I bite my lip, feeling a flush of heat at the memory. “Afterwards, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other...then we agreed to make this something real…”

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