Charlotte laughed. “We are. Where would you guys like to start?”
“Mimosas and pedicures and then massages.” I looked at the girls for confirmation and they nodded. We were ushered through the spa to a row of pedicure chairs. I settled in and closed my eyes as everyone chattered around me.
“A toast,” Alia said, when we had our flutes. “To the new Mrs. Campbell.”
There was a chorus of cheers, and we all threw it back. Feeling wonderful and full of champagne bubbles, I sighed when the spa technician began to rub my feet.
“What color are you getting?” Jamie asked me.
“Harlot Red,” I stated.
“That’s not really a color, is it?” Jaime looked disbelieving, and I handed her the bottle of nail polish. She looked at the bottom. “Well, what do you know? Okay, I want that color, too!”
I worried that Jamie would always be a follower, but not everyone could be a leader.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out; it was a text from Winters wanting to have coffee. I held in a sigh. I’d been feeding him information for weeks, and he’d only grown more adamant about finding something to pin on Flynn.
“Why are you frowning?” Alia asked me.
“Nothing. Wedding reception stuff,” I lied. “It’s all a pain in the ass.” That much was true.
“Well, at least it’s not a full-blown wedding,” Alia said with a look of commiseration.
“Might as well be. I imagine Flynn’s wedding was supposed to be the party of the season.”
“Party of the season?” Renee smiled. “Really? Is this the 1800s, and he’s some duke getting married?”
“Just be glad it’s notyourbest friend who’s obsessed with this stuff. Ash has some pretty grand plans.”
I wanted a quiet place to relax and have someone work on the knots that had taken up residence in my shoulders. “I’m ready for my massage,” I said to the technician who was cleaning up my pedicure station.
“Of course,” the young woman said with a smile.
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“Annabelle.”
“Annabelle, thank you for taking care of me.”
She looked surprised and a little bashful. “You’re welcome. Let me just go tell your masseur you’re ready.” A few minutes later, Annabelle came back and escorted me down a long white hallway and pointed at the last door on the left.
“Go ahead and get comfortable and Sean will be with you in a few minutes.” She closed the door, and I breathed in the tea tree oil permeating the room. The walls were a soft green and faint sounds of Native American flutes drifted through the speakers. I began to relax as I shed my clothes, leaving on my underwear, and climbing beneath the sheet. Putting my face in the hole, I closed my eyes and waited.
The door opened and closed. The masseur padded closer. He stopped at the table and placed a large hand on my shoulder blade, letting it rest there a moment, letting me get comfortable with his touch. Slowly, he stroked a finger down my spine.
The hair on the back of my neck rose.
I felt the prick of something sharp in the side of my neck and warm breath near my ear when he said in a thick Russian accent, “Sleep.”
Chapter 37
I turned my head and retched onto the floor.
There was very little in my stomach, mostly champagne and bile. As I trembled from the effort, it took me a moment to realize I was wrapped in a sheet, and I was on a bed. And not a grungy, sweaty mattress in some dank warehouse. No, I was in a beautiful room with white walls and gold accents. The massive four-poster bed would’ve been downright comfortable had I not had a ball of fear in my stomach.
Scrambling out of bed, I wrapped the sheet more securely around me. I tried the door, finding it locked. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t like I was going to get very far in a sheet and no shoes.
Panic surged through me, and I began to tremble. I had to stay calm, so I shoved the terror down and thought about what I could control.
