Page 30 of His Innocent Muse

Norman whips around in a black sedan, and Roman opens the door to the backseat before I even get the chance. I slip my hands under my arms, giving myself the hug I so desperately need, and duck inside.

The door closes and he pats the hood, giving Norman a signal to drive off. Mayhem’s car whips into the place we pull out of, proud as a peacock he sniped the front row space.

My heart skips, and for some reason, I want to open the door and throw myself out. I want him to see me in this car. I want to run and ask him if Ghost will be more or less angry with my decision.

But I don’t.

I sink deep in the cool leather seats and swipe the tears off my face, murmuring for Norman to make it to the highway and head south.

It feels like torture to disappear once again. To give a strange man directions to my prison after the most beautiful moment of freedom, but I know better now. I don’t belong amongst the artwork with Ghost, where the precious and the beautiful reside.

I belong buried deep within the destruction, and that’s where I’ll stay.

8

GHOST

Instead of the normal, dull expectations that have plagued me at every one of these exhibits for the last decade, I feel…like I’m missing something. I know it isn’t anything to do with the exhibit, my checklist is impeccable. No. It’s something else entirely.

My gaze trails to the empty space at my right side, and I frown as I check my watch.

Mayhem should be back with Lucy’s dinner by now.

I’m partially angry with myself for having him do it, but I truly don’t trust any of my interactions at the moment. And I’ve got a job to do down here. At least I know she’s safe.

My phone buzzes against my hip right as the first guests enter in their finest attire, complete with Vie De Mort issue filigree masks.

And of course. Roman. He’s alone tonight, probably coming to antagonize me in some way.

I step toward the closest knee-wall and grab one of my many spare pistols, slipping it into the back of my waistband just as Roman’s eyes land on me.

We level the same tight-lipped, assessing smile at each other. He changes his direction, coming right for me, and I nod at each of the door guards. They flank him on either side, following close behind.

“Ghost,” he croons, full of false camaraderie as he holds his hands wide.

“Roman.” We shake hands, clasping each other like old friends. “Or should I say ‘representative’?”

He chuckles. “You know I prefer to exist under the radar. You always attract the most interesting individuals. Anyone…new…on the floor this week?” He eyes Zalia, tilting his head slightly. Her spread-eagle suspension is holding solid, but the hunger in his gaze seems different tonight. I’ll have to send someone home with her, just to be safe.

I scowl. “No one new.”

“And here I thought we were above keeping secrets.”

I nearly scoff. As if the man isn’t covered in enough secrets to fill a lake.

He slants his gaze my way with a one shoulder shrug. “Have it your way.”

“I always do.”

We stare at each other a moment before we fake our smiles again. I gesture toward the two guards. “If you’ll head back to the start of the line, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes, yes.” He inhales deeply. “I know all about your need to control the flow.”

“Ghost works hard to make it an entire experience. Feel free to leave if you’d rather.”

Murder joins us, looming at my right, arms crossed and stance wide. I crack my neck, releasing some of my tension. For all of our bickering, I know my brothers would lay their lives on the line for me, and I them.

Roman studies us both. “I think I might. I just remembered I have another…engagement. Gentlemen.” He bows his head at both of us, stalking past the two guards and straight through the door. Two other guests veer out of his way with a huff, speaking in hushed tones as they enter.

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