Page 23 of As Devils Love

Sometimes I feel as if I’m going crazy. That the fever-riddled sleep from whatever drug was in my drink fried my brain permanently.

Then I remember him saying my name and two of Father’s men winding up dead after I left the club. Six more men have met the same fate, and two have disappeared. Tomas finds my looks of disgust and repulsion at the news far too satisfying and makes sure to let me know, as soon as he learns of another tragedy.

“Another day of fucking around or are you seeing someone?” As if merely thinking his name was enough to draw his attention, Tomas shouts his question from the showroom.

I groan, snatching the extravagant ballroom-style dress I’ve been working on off my sewing table, and I head out to meet him.

“How is that any of your business?” I struggle to keep my composure. I’ve had the misfortune of Tomas’s ever-watchful eye on me for two weeks, and it’s starting to wear thin for both of us.

“Because I’d rather do nothing in the apartment, than this dump.” He was never a pleasant man to be around, but his snide remarks and cutting tone have become more pronounced over the past few days. Annoyingly, he’s started referring tomyapartment, astheapartment, as if we’re actually sharing it.

My calm, cool and collected self has eroded to reveal a grumpy monster. Every time he looks at me, rage bubbles inside my core. And that’s even before he starts drinking. Plus, he’s been creeping around my apartment at night. Mumbling to himself about whatever pissed him off that day, or how he’s sick of babysittingDaddy’s brat.

What terrified me more than his blatant disrespect of my father,hisdon, is how my door handle was jostling as he said it. I can’t bring myself to dwell on the mixture of drunken aggressionand the lust that I’ve seen in his beady eyes. I just need to stay strong, until I see Father again. I need to tell him about Tomas’s indiscretions, so I can cut him out of my life for good.

He gets his answer, without my needing to give it, when the bell above my door alerts us to someone’s arrival. It’s Mrs. Alice Walker, a once-beloved heiress among New York’s high society, who has aged into elegant and graceful beauty. She’s one of my longest-standing clients, and she stops by at least once a month to order a new dress for one of the many humanitarian events her husband organizes. She, and a small handful of others, keep my boutique alive.

Today I get to thank her for one more good deed, making Tomas Bernardi sit around and suck his thumb while I do what I love doing.

Short greetings follow all around, and even Tomas manages to force a smile onto his face.

“Is this it?” Her blue eyes sparkle as she sees her dress for the first time.

“It is. All it needs is a try on and a few touch ups to perfect the fit, and you’ll be able to walk out with it today.”

“Goodness, you never cease to amaze me, Fia.” She runs her fingers over the material, and together we make our way to the fitting rooms.

“Give me a moment, then you and that lovely young man outside can give me your thoughts.” I nearly burst out laughing at her kind words about Tomas, but I just hand her the dress. Now isn’t the time.

“Just shout if you need me. I’ll be in the showroom,” I give her a real smile, as she closes the door.

However, when I step out of the fitting room hall, I see him again. He’s in the parking lot, among the cars, where I’m certain I spotted him once before. But it’s different this time. He still has his mask up, with only his eyes and hair visible. But he isn’twearing the same leather jacket and blue jeans. Instead, he’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt and matching black cargo pants.

A spring of fear coils inside my chest and I refuse to blink. We’re making direct eye contact, which means he can’t just be a figment of my imagination this time.

Does that mean he never was?

Eventually, my eyes give in to the dryness and they snap shut. Blinking is usually all it takes for him to disappear. And though I’m more scared than I’d like to admit, I’m also a little excited. I’ve been dealing with this for weeks, unsure whether I’m losing touch with reality or if I’ve actually had someone following me around.

When I open my eyes, I’ll know.

“What are you doing?” Tomas’s voice interrupts this big moment.

With a groan of annoyance, my eyelids lift lazily, fooling myself into believing this is just another strange occurrence.

He hasn’t moved from his place among the cars. Hell, he’s got one hand in the air, slowly waving at me like we’re old friends seeing each other for the first time in years.

“Oh, shit,” I yell and point out the window.

“What is it?” Tomas snaps his head in the indicated direction, but my stalker dips behind the cars and vanishes again.

“Someone is out there.” I gulp, staring at the spot where I just saw the man in black.

“Are you sure?” Tomas launches out of his chair, and instinctively reaches a hand behind his lapel to grab his shoulder-holstered pistol. He flicks his eyes toward the changing rooms to make sure we’re alone before drawing it.

“No, but—”

He raises a finger to his lips to quiet me. “Calm now, Fia. Don’t break into hysterics.” I wasn’t going to, but maybe my faceis telling him a different story. “I’m gonna go have a look. Stay here.”

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