Page 8 of Deadly Misfortunes

The following night, Sascha curled up on an old patchwork quilt her grandmother had made for her on her red vinyl couch with a wolf shifter, romantic suspense novel, glad to have a break from work for the rest of the week. She’d already spent the day packing a few of her household goods so she could move to her new house on Prescott’s property by the end of the week and was ready to just enjoy a book and some alone time.

No matter how late it got, she planned to read her book all the way through. She sipped a glass of lemonade, then set the glass on a cork coaster on the coffee table. An antique clock on her bookshelf chimed without warning, sending shivers down her back. Nine times it sounded. She shifted on the squishy vinyl and turned the next page in her book.

The doorbell rang, instantly startling her. She dropped the book promptly on the floor and turned to face the front door.

Now that Katrina had moved out of the apartment next door and into Prescott's main house on several acres on the lake with him, Sascha hadn’t had any more impromptu visits from her cousin. She certainly wasn’t expecting any gentleman callers. It better not be Damon! She strode to the door and peeked through the peephole.

The man who stood in her porch light wore a black cap and suit. For a minute, she tried to figure out who wore such clothes, then she realized he must have been some kind of limousine driver. She opened her latched door. “Yes?”

“Miss Sascha Lassiter?”

“Yes?”

“I’m here to pick you up so that you may provide the entertainment for Mr. Gregory Landry’s function tonight, Ma’am.”

“He’ll have to find someone else to entertain him and his rich friends.” She began to close the door, but the man held it open with his foot.

“He’ll make it worth your while.”

“I’m not interested. You can tell him I said so.”

“He said your usual fee is a thousand dollars.”

“He’s right.”

“He’ll pay you fifteen hundred.”

She hesitated. “Fifteen hundred? For just my usual?”

“That’s what he said. He’s a competitive sort when it comes to the Worthingtons.”

She could imagine. Considering the idea, she glanced down at the floor, but when the driver pulled out an envelope, the sound of crinkling paper made her look up at him.

“For your time tonight, Ma’am.”

The concept definitely appealed. But working for a man who thought she wanted to snag him for his wealth didn’t appeal. “Tell him I thank him for his generosity, but I’m not free tonight.”

“Two thousand then?”

She smiled. “How high is he willing to go?”

“Three thousand.”

Liking Gregory’s driver, she chuckled. She was certain he wasn’t supposed to tell her that. “What’s your name?”

“Raymond, Ma’am.”

“Well, Raymond, come on in.”

She walked into her bedroom and called out to the driver standing in her living room, “I’ll get my dancing shoes on, and we’ll run over to Greg’s place so I can earn my money.” She pulled out a flouncy, colorful skirt, a corset, and a sheer bolero with long, full sleeves, the wristbands gold- and silver-trimmed.

She grabbed her sandals and walked into the living room to put them on. She glanced at him as she slipped her sandals on and studied his neatly trimmed blond hair. “Too bad you weren’t a redhead.”

Smiling at her, Raymond handed her the cash. She carried the envelope into the bedroom. After tucking the money away in a safe in the vent, she grabbed a beaded bag and joined Raymond in the living room again.

Looping her arm through his, she said, “All right, Raymond, let’s have some fun.”

Gregory knew Sascha would come to his home to provide the entertainment once he offered her more money than Prescott had paid her. Though he still couldn’t get over the fact that she would initially say no to a job when the waiter had given her Gregory’s note.