Page 18 of Tempted By December

I cringe at the sound of my sister’s name. It's another reminder that Alaric isn't the only one I've been lying to around here. They all believe I'm someone I'm not. Maybe they've gotten to know the real me, but they still think I'm Jill. I doubt they're going to be thrilled when they find out the truth.

It was naive and shortsighted to think I could do this without anyone getting hurt. The thing about lies is that they're never entirely innocent. Someone always gets hurt.

I hate that I let myself believe any differently this time. It was selfish. And this is the one time of year when we're supposed to be the best versions of ourselves, not the worst. Lately, I think I've been the worst.

The warehouse is a thirty-minute drive from the office on a good day. Thanks to an accident, it takes me over an hour to get there. By the time I pull in, the entire block is dark and empty. There isn't another car in sight.

It's creepy as hell.

I linger in my car for several long moments before I finally work up the courage to go check the warehouse. Walking across the parking lot feels like walking the gallows. There's no one around, yet my imagination says there are eyes following my every move.

I end up sprinting the last several feet, only to lose my balance and trip over the sidewalk. I land on my knees with my shoulder against the door.

"Jeez," I mutter, hauling myself upright. My right knee burns and throbs faintly. I scraped it. Awesome.

Huffing a breath, I punch in the door code and let myself into the warehouse. The door swings closed behind me, plunging me into darkness.

I scramble for the light switch, breathing a sigh of relief as light floods the warehouse. Like Sariah said, it's packed. Bolts and boxes of fabric are stacked to the rafters in the temperature-controlled room. Clothing hangs on hooks from one end of the place to the other, ready to be shipped out to their boutiques and partners.

I wander around in a daze, peeking at the designs that won't even be in stores for weeks and months. I feel like Dorothy getting a glimpse behind the curtain, only the magic of Oz is even more wonderful than expected. The spring line is bold and fun, with sexy tops and gorgeous, flowing dresses that will make any curvy girl feel like a confident queen.

It's no wonder Daphne Parrish & Co is at the top of the game. They know how to dress curvy girls.

A row of cocktail dresses in the very back catches my eye. I practically float toward them, squeezing between boxes and shifting others out of the way. Halfway there, the alarm on the warehouse door sounds.

I stop, turning toward it. I'm not sure who or what I expect. Sariah. Maybe even Claudia or Troy. Certainly not a man dressed in all black with a mask over his face.

"Cut the fucking lights before someone sees us," he growls.

My blood runs cold as realization dawns. He isn't an employee, and he isn't here on business. I think he's robbing the place. And he brought help.

The lights cut off, plunging the warehouse into darkness.

I drop to my knees, my heart racing as pure terror fires through me. Holding my breath, I pray he didn't see me. Didn't hear me. I crawl deeper into the warehouse, moving slowly.

"Ignore the fabric boxes. We want the clothes. Get whatever you can carry and hurry the fuck up," the first man says.

"Man, your sister better not be lying about the resell value for this shit," someone else mutters.

"She's not," the first one says. "She knows her shit."

"She should. She's been working for these motherfuckers long enough." The second one laughs. "Think she has a clue that you swiped the code from her email?"

"Nah. She trusts me."

"What's up with the car in the parking lot?" a third voice says. "I thought you said this place would be empty."

I bite my lip, fighting back a terrified sob.

"It is empty, jackass. It's probably just someone who caught a ride. They had that fucking party yesterday. Probably drank too much," the first one says. "Grab some shit, and let's get the fuck out of here."

I wedge myself into the back corner, hiding behind a stack of boxes as they rob the place. Time stretches on and on, seemingly forever. I don't know how long they're inside. But eventually, they leave.

I stay right where I am, too afraid to move. Too afraid to breathe too deeply.

When I finally crawl from my hiding place, I don't go to the police. I run to the only person I know who makes me feel safe.

I run to Alaric.

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