Page 38 of Dark & Deceitful

“I’m hanging up. I’ll see you tomorrow. Remember?”

“Please be safe.”

“I am.”

“No more seducing men. That’s not part of the assignment,” he scolds.

“Goodbye, Dark.” Rolling my eyes for what feels like the billionth time, I hang up before he can say another word, and then I fling myself on the mattress dramatically. Can he see me? Sure, he can. The fucker probably watches me sleep like the crazy stalker he’s become.

I’ll be glad once this assignment is over and I can return to my normal life—watching movies with Lily, eating popcorn, running my shop, and taking care of my plants—back to the simple, relaxing life, back to sleeping in my own bed and seeing Sunshine.

Speaking of Sunshine.

Swiping through my texts, I ignore the litany of nonsense from Dark and click Sunshine’s thread.

Him: Play it smart this weekend. You’ve got this. Miss you, Sweets.

Me: Miss you, too. Are you coming to visit next weekend?

Him: I wouldn’t miss it.

Me: What are you doing right now?

Him: Rubbing the last amethyst you gave me.

Pressing my lips together, I stave off a smile as my stomach swirls with weird, girlish emotions at the fact he's using the crystal I gave him. Not that I expected anything different. As I’ve said before, Sunshine has a cup full of them in his van. But it’s the little things like him reminding me he’s using them, that they matter to him, it feels… nice. Well, maybe nice isn’t the correct word. You know what I mean.

Me: Is that all you’re doing?

Him: I’m driving to my next job.

Me: Busy week?

Him: Always is.

I wanna ask what makes it busy, but I know I can’t. He can’t tell me what he’s doing any more than I can share details of what I’m doing—not yet, anyhow. Maybe when I get home, we can talk, and I’ll share the sordid details. Until then, I have to keep my head in the game. This is literal life or death.

Me: I’m gonna shower and pack my bag for the yacht. Drive safe. See you next weekend.

Him: Will do. Love you.

Me: Love you, too.

The shower is quick, and the bag I pack is simple—all the essentials I need for my stay, including my two ribbed vibrators, a few changes of clothes, and feminine essentials. It fits perfectly in my backpack that I set by the front door. In another bag, I pack my personal phone, which I power down, and the rest of the items I want to take home with me. I leave the rest of my work clothes, food, and everything else in my apartment because it would be suspicious if I didn’t. The shampoo stays in the shower—a razor on the sink. The little touches will make it seem normal when Mr. Cassiano sends his goons to clear out my apartment to make me disappear.

After I finish another dinner of leftovers on my small couch and watch a rerun ofFriends, I dress in all black, shoulder my personal bag, and duck out of the apartment under the guise of darkness, taking the back ways through town, down darkened alleys and quiet neighborhoods, per Dark’s previous instructions. I lock my bag inside a locker downtown, next to the bus station, to be picked up later, and take a different route home to avoid being followed.

Back inside the safety of my apartment, I walk around the small place to appreciate my last night here. Sure, it isn’t much, but it served its purpose. It felt like home after a wild day at the office—or, in this case, the yacht.

In the bathroom, I change out of my dark clothes and into a Cami and boy-short panties before I return to the bedroom for a good night's rest. Ha. Like that’ll happen. The night before anybig assignment, my brain refuses to shut down. It overanalyzes everything, trying to figure out how tomorrow will play out in a million different ways. To fix this, I sit cross-legged on the center of the mattress, close my eyes, and meditate.

Through my nose, I breathe, pulling air into my diaphragm, down into my belly, where I hold it for a count, then release it between my lips in a steady stream of air. My brain clears as I focus on nothing but my breath. The tension I was carrying fades to nothingness. Peace flows through me as I switch from breathwork to a mix of humming and quietly reciting mantras I practiced with my mother when we sat in the grass, the sun on our faces, and became one with Mother Earth, where anything is possible.

I run through the paces until I’m left with a clear head and a peaceful heart. Only then do I click off my bedside lamp, shimmy under the covers, and sleep like the dead.

ELEVEN

Dropping my backpack on my bunk in our shared stateroom after a lengthy check-in process and walk-through of the luxury yacht, I unpack what I need to start the day. We travel into open waters in less than an hour. The men and women are currently being loaded onboard as the three of us dress for a day on the water. Catering to a group of rich, egotistical, handsy assholes happens to be my specialty. Sure, I haven’t worked on an assignment quite like this. Not with as many moving parts and people involved. But I’ve played the dutiful, flirty waitress at underground poker nights. I’ve sat at tables with men far scarier than you can imagine and held my own. The biggest difference is Dark—his presence. We’ve done smaller jobs together where I was his partner in crime. His side piece. The arm candy. Pretending I don’t know a man who is pretending to be a totally different man is nerve-racking, but I’ve got this.

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