Page 18 of Twisted Roses

The email between them is brief. Lena asking when she can see him. His response vague, a line about his schedule being booked out.

“Are you still with your mistress, DA?” I ask the silence of his office. “Or is there something else you’re meeting with Lena about?”

Her face looks familiar, though I can’t place where. I’ve seen her elsewhere. Somewhere besides the background check I did of her many years ago.

I rack my brain trying to remember where else I would’ve possibly seen her.

“Psycho!”

I return to the main office to find Stitches logging off. “Is there a problem?”

“I couldn’t get the list of donors open, but I did find some Neptune Society files. Years’ worth of visitor logs and membership documents in a folder. All password protected. I’ve downloaded all of it on a thumb drive. Our computer guy might have better luck. Did you hear the truck pulling up outside? His overnight security is back from their lunch break.”

A bothered sigh rolls out of me. I motion for him to hurry packing the rest of the way up. Before we go, I steal the photo from the frame on Ernest’s desk. Petty for sure, but amusing when I think of him discovering it’s missing.

No doubt he’ll suspect me. I want him to know I was here. But I want him to be unable toproveit. The ultimate form of torture for him.

Stitches and I ditch the headquarters without any other trace we were there in the first place. Come tomorrow morning, Ernest and his fairy-sized campaign coordinator will be livid.

Another small victory for me.

* * *

It’s Friday night, which means the lines at Nirvana are out the door. I usually make sure to stop by and hang around at least for a few hours.

Tonight’s different. After Stitches and I wrap up at Ernest’s campaign office, I head somewhere else.

Delphine’s heels click against the marble floors of her apartment building lobby. No one knows how to strike a perfect balance between classy and sexy like she does—a simple black pump becomes infinitely sexier when on her delicate, arched feet. The belted dress she wears hugs her figure just right, accentuating her hips and stopping a couple inches past her knees. The view from the back is enough to make my mouth water.

As she steps onto the elevator, so do I. The doors roll closed before she can even protest.

Loathing pinches her features. “I told you to leave me alone.”

“That explains why you didn’t answer my call.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’re never too busy to answer my call.”

“I’llblockyour calls if I want to,” she snaps.

“Speaking of blocked.” I move closer, planting a hand on either side of her. Right away her fragrance clouds my brain. Light, sweet, powdery notes that rise from her skin and make me hard.

I inhale a ragged breath, tempted to tear her dress off of her. Public elevator be damned.

“Salvatore,” she whispers. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“It’s a little late for that, Phi. You’re already mine.” I trace my fingers along the curve of her cheek only for her to turn her head away.

The elevator dings reaching her floor. She rushes off and I follow. She walks a pace ahead of me. Not once does she glance over her shoulder. Not once does she acknowledge my presence in any way. Instead, she strides to her apartment door as if she isn’t hot and bothered I’m a few steps behind.

I enter her apartment to find she’s already heading for her bedroom.

“I told you I’m busy,” she says as she walks fast.

“Is that your way of telling me you’re going out tonight?”

She reaches behind herself and begins unzipping her dress, letting it fall at its leisure. I watch as the stretch fabric slinks down the curves of her body. Once it drops to the floor, she steps out of it in nothing but a lacy bra and panty set.

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