Page 76 of The Cask

I clinked my glass against his. “To us.”

Keeping my eyes on him, I took the first sip. I let the flavor swirl around my mouth before swallowing. It was a powerful, layered taste. It was nutty, spicy, and surprisingly fresh. I knew it wasn’t really the almost ten-thousand-dollar Barbadillo Versos 1891 Amontillado. But because Samuel Joseph took me with him to a tasting of the real thing, I knew it was an amazing imitation.

“This is good,” he commented before taking another sip. “It’s…spicy.”

I nodded. “And even though it’s spicy and nutty, it’s still manages to be smooth…” I took another sip. “It’s completely unexpected.”

“I like it. I like it a lot. I had my doubts but this tastes like the real thing.”

I held up my glass again. “To the real thing.”

“To the real thing.”

We finished our glasses. “Do you want another round?” I asked.

He glanced at his watch. “I can’t. I have to get back to present the winner with the money.”

I patted my pockets. “I don’t have my phone. What time is it?”

“Fifteen minutes until three.”

“Yeah, we should go. We have to do this all again tomorrow.” I stood and grabbed the bottle with one hand and his hand with the other. “Thank you for checking it out with me.”

He carried our empty glasses. “Anytime.”

We talked about how night one of the festival went for us as we climbed the stairs.

“Oh, I need to get my phone,” I remembered, turning around and running into my office. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

I came jogging back out of my office and he was waiting in the middle of the staircase. I smiled up at him. “Okay, let’s go.”

He got to the door, turned the knob and froze. “What the hell?”

“What’s wrong?” I wondered, trying to peer around him.

He angled his body and rammed the door as best he could from the top step. “The door won’t open.” He did it two more times.

“Omari!” Panic-stricken, I clutched the bottle to my chest. “What’s going on? Open the door!”

“It won’t open!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s stuck or locked or… I don’t know.” He turned around and looked at me. “We’re trapped.”

Chapter Fourteen

“This is great,” he grumbled sarcastically as he let out steam. Shaking his arms out from ramming the door, he angrily paced the corridor. “You’re sure your charger isn’t down here?”

“No, it’s either upstairs or in my car.”

He growled, ripping his crown off his head. “I shouldn’t have left without my phone. I should’ve at least grabbed my fucking phone.”

I assessed his anger and how he handled it, how he moved with it, how he spoke with it. A man’s anger said so much about his character and I was waiting for Omari Fortune to show me who I knew he truly had to be. Not that I needed any more justification for revenge, but I’d hoped that it would kill the intense feelings he conjured within me.

“Do you know who has the money for the costume contest, Ebony?” he asked sharply.

“You?” I guessed.

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