Page 73 of Obsession

My body’s tingling just thinking about him not being a good boy. The note vanishes, and my vibrator appears in its stead. The new note beside it reads:

To tide you over until you are ready to admit it.

“You are still a prick,” I grumble. “And it’s a good thing my vibrator is still waterproof!”

Chapter 30

“Psychic attacks. Let me think. What you need is agate,” I tell the customer, pointing out the orange fire agate crystal cut into the shape of a pyramid. Aunt Callie is the crystal expert, but I know enough to help the average customer. Turns out there is no crystal to help exorcise a Cambion from your body, just FYI.

Speaking of that sexy devil, he left me a coffee and blueberry cake donut on the counter this morning. Hoping that leaving sweets out in the open doesn’t attract Abracas, I ring up my customer and get to work on my donut.

“Morning.” I greet my aunt, who’s just joined me.

“Morning, sweetie,” she says, taking a look at the schedule. “A juice cleanse would help with sugar cravings,” she says, now eyeing the donut in my hand.

Licking my fingers, I say, “No, thank you.” I’ll take my chances with a sugar fiend demon over a sadistic juice cleanse with my aunt any day of the week. “I haven’t seen you much lately,” I comment, knowing good and well it’s because of the Craig incident. I want to ask, but I bite my tongue; it’ll only lead to a fight between us. Besides, I’ve got enough problems of my own without adding her drama to my list.

“I know, sweetie. I’ve been busy hosting meditation workshops at different yoga studios.”

Lunchtime rolls around, and a takeout bag of barbecue appears on the counter. Opening it, I laugh out loud at all the extra containers of spicy sauce.

“Don’t start,” I warn my aunt as I take a bite of my sandwich.

Finishing lunch, I send Damion a thank you text, then pop outside to check the mailbox. I find a letter from a law office addressed to Aunt Callie. I don’t need my gift of premonition to know this isn’t good.

“What’s this about?” I ask, handing her the letter.

“I don’t know,” she says, grabbing the letter opener from behind the counter and cutting through the envelope. She unfolds the paper and reads it, her face turning ghostly pale.

“What?”

“Shit.”

“What’s shit?”

“This letter is from Craig’s lawyer—he’s demanding I pay money to Craig. Our spell kept Craig away, but not his grimy little lawyer,” she grits through clenched teeth.

“Why on earth would a lawyer demand that you pay Craig money?”

“Because I sort of borrowed some money from Craig.”

“What do you mean you ‘sort of’ borrowed some money from Craig?”

“I gave myself an advance while Craig was in prison.”

“You mean you stole from your crazy felon ex-boyfriend?” Shit! To steal her line, since we are talking about theft.

“Craig added me to his bank account to pay for his lawyer, the upkeep on his house, and other things while he was in prison. I went ahead and paid myself for doing so.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I might have overpaid myself just a bit.”

“So how much did you overpay yourself?”

“Craig’s lawyer claims twenty thousand dollars.”

I’m sure my eyes are bugging out of my head. “Did you take twenty thousand dollars?”

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