Page 17 of Vows in Sin
We stand in silence, each reflecting on our thoughts, occasionally sipping our drinks.
She hasn't left my mind since the moment I saw her.
The image of her standing in the storeroom, both terrified and brave, all of her breathtakingly beautiful, is burned into my memory.
I fucked up. Got distracted. I won’t let that happen again.
Can’t lether…happen again.
7
Seraphina
Am I going back to the club tonight?
The thought alone makes the hairs on my arms stand on end and my internal temperature rise. I shift my weight in my office chair, shamefully pressing my thighs together. I glance out the window at the cloudy sky.
No. I am not.
Today is a new day. Yes, it’s gloomy gray outside. Yes, I drank way too much wine last night, woke up on my sofa instead of my bed, and left drool on the lovely green silk pillows I’d brought back from my previous trip to Nepal.
Hair a fright. Breath like a dragon. But again.
Today is a new day.
I look at the time.
Okay, afternoon.
I stare at my laptop screen, unsure of where to begin. Once my name got around the city, jobs flowed in by word of mouth. In my busier months, I even had to turn some down. The idea of searching the entire internet for work is overwhelming.
Focus only on the task at hand, Seraphina.
It’s what my third-grade teacher used to tell me, the one who realized I didn’t mean to ping-pong all over the place, but I couldn’t focus when there was an entire project ahead of me.
She’d break it down into tasks that she called ‘bites,’ writing them out in bullet points on a worksheet for me, the image of a green crocodile as the asterisk for each job.
“Right. First things first.” I push my flamingo pink glasses frames further up the bridge of my nose. They’re prescription-less, but I swear they help me focus. “What bite should I tackle first?”
A banging sound startles me, making me jump in my chair. Someone at the door?
A flutter of hope tickles in my chest.
The face that comes to mind is Reigns. An emotion I can’t quite put my finger on appears.
Dame wasn’t my first thought for a surprise guest.
Hope builds in my heart. Could he be at my door? The loud noise comes again.
My heart sinks in disappointment as I realize what it is and where it’s coming from.
There’s no tormented suitor at the door ready to declare their undying devotion to me and spank me into a volcanic core melting eruption.
It’s Fifi, my retired Broadway star upstairs neighbor. The boom comes again, Fifi thudding the rubber-capped end of her cane against her floor, my ceiling, to tell me to turn down my music. She could text me, but she finds technology complicated.
Tilting my head back, I shout up to her, “I’m turning it down, Miss Fifi!”
I cut the tunes completely, then pick the first bite I need to take. Resumé. Using the mousepad on my laptop, I find the file I’m looking for.
