Page 63 of Wicked Embers

“Leigh!” Tracy rushes in, her voice laced with concern. She kneels beside me, her hand on my back. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a migraine,” I manage, slumping against the cool tiles.

Her eyes widen. “Can I get you something? Aspirin? Tea?”

“Both, if you can manage,” I croak, my head throbbing. “And maybe a new brain.”

She chuckles nervously, brushing my hair from my face. “I’ll be right back. The shower’s on if you feel up to it.”

As the door closes behind her, I strip and step under the hot water, letting it pound against my aching head. The heat soothes the tension in my shoulders, but it can’t chase away the fog clouding my mind. Images flash—Nikolas, the songbook, his warning—but they’re fleeting, slippery. I can’t pin them down.

Two hours later, I’m caught in a whirlwind of designer stores and dizzying opulence. Tracy is in her element, flitting from rack to rack like a bird collecting shiny things, while Fredrik trails behind us, laden with bags.

My stomach growls angrily, a reminder of my skipped breakfast and the miserable moment I emptied whatever was left in my stomach into the toilet earlier. My head still aches, the pain simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

“I need food,” I declare, cutting Tracy off mid-sentence. “I’m not trying on another gown until I eat.”

Tracy hesitates, her gaze darting nervously to Fredrik, who loiters nearby like an immovable shadow.

“It’s not on the schedule,” she says apologetically, her voice uncertain.

“Where’s your phone?” I demand, my patience wearing thin. I’ve been dragged around the shops marching to Radomir’s fucking schedule for hours. Anger bubbles up inside me.

Her brows knit together as she cautiously pulls her phone from her pocket, clutching it tightly like a lifeline. I snatch it from her before she can protest, dialing Radomir with trembling fingers and a rising wave of defiance.

“Tracy?” His deep voice answers after two rings.

“It’s Leigh,” I snap, my tone sharper than I intend.

My emotions balancing on a knife edge as I can’t help but wonder what Radomir was up to last night, or who he was fucking. From nowhere a wave of jealousy hits me, and I’m bombarded with images of him with another woman.

I shake it away, clenching my fist so hard my nails bite into the tender skin of my palm.I don’t give a shit what he does or who he does it with,I remind myself. “I’m starving, and we’re going to Mon Ami Gabi for breakfast. Consider it your treat.”

There’s a pause, then a low chuckle. “You’re in a good mood today, ptichka.” Sarcasm mingles with the amusement in his voice making the temperature of my anger rise. “Enjoy your breakfast. But don’t take too long. You have an important function today.”

I hang up without responding, tossing the phone back to Tracy. “Let’s go.”

The restaurant is bustling but elegant, the perfect distraction from the gnawing unease in my chest. Tracy relaxes over mimosas, but I can’t shake the growing suspicion that something is amiss. The way she avoids my gaze when I mention Radomir, the way Fredrik’s eyes never leave me—it’s suffocating.

After breakfast, the shopping resumes, but this time it’s different. She’s taking me into boutique after boutique filled withwedding dresses.

“This feels... specific,” I say as Tracy hands me another gown to try on.

She shrugs, her expression carefully neutral. “Radomir wants you to have a nice white gown—something like a wedding dress I was told.”

I freeze, the silk fabric slipping through my fingers. “A wedding dress? Tracy, what’s going on?”

She looks uncomfortable but tries to laugh it off. “It’s probably for the charity ball on Saturday. They always have a theme.”

The charity ball. A bridal theme?It doesn’t make sense. Panic claws at my chest, but I tamp it down, forcing myself to go along. For now! Then I see the dress. All thought and unease dissolve as I stare in sheer awe.

It’s breathtaking, a vision of lace and silk with intricate beading that catches the light.

“You have to try it on,” Tracy insists as I walk over to it.

She pulls the dress from the rail and practically shoves me toward the dressing room.

When I step out, her gasp says it all.

---