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A cute little line wrinkles his forehead. He is unconvinced.
“Gosh, do you want me to apologize to you too?” I mutter.
He smiles at that. “Just Beatrice is fine. What led to the change of heart?”
I shrug. “Introspection.”
“That’s great.” He hands me her business card. “I’ll be a couple of minutes. Are you ready to leave?”
You need to get back to your apartment, the little voice insists. We need things.
“I’m ready to go, but I can’t come with you. I have a shift at work. If I don’t turn up, they’ll fire me.”
Storm is scowling. “I’ll speak to them. After the shock of yesterday, the least they can do is—”
“Storm,” I say, interrupting in a reasonable tone. “I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I need to get home to get ready for work.”
“Your apartment is being processed by forensics.”
“If you drop me off, then you can supervise me.” I give him a pleading smile.
He doesn't look happy about it, but he agrees. “You really should think about taking the day off,” he says. “Shock can have an unexpected effect.”
While he takes the plates to the sink, I go to get his jacket for him. I slip his gold coin into his pocket. I can feel the little voice lashing about in my mind. She is excited.
Chapter 17
DIANA
When we get back to my apartment, there is crime scene tape on the door. I can see smudges where the techs have dusted for fingerprints. I ask Storm to wait on the landing outside my door while I go in and get my things. He is reluctant to do so, but I point out that my shower is inside my room and unless he wants to perv on me, he’d better wait out here.
I am too embarrassed to let Storm in even just to check the room is safe. I don’t want him to see that I live in one room, or that it has a shower cubicle inside it. Especially when I have now seen his lovely spacious apartment.
AngelBeastie turns her nose up at keeping Storm company in the hallway, and insists on coming in with me. I take the quickest shower possible, and change into my black work trousers and white blouse, my usual catering
uniform.
You will need a sexy dress too, says the little voice.
“Why?” I ask.
Because we’re going to the Ambassador’s Ball, she says.
I frown. “Wasn’t telling Storm that I was going to work just a ruse to make him leave me alone? I thought I was going to hunt down Beatrice Grictor today?”
We are, she says. The Ambassador’s Ball was on Raif Silverstone’s wall calendar. If he was planning to attend, she was too. The Ambassador was her alibi for late on a Friday night. They must be lovers. She is probably his date tonight.
“Probably? I thought you had something more certain!”
Rich powerful men love to flaunt their pretty trophy girlfriends, and what more perfect girlfriend for an aging Ambassador than a younger woman who does worthy charitable work?
“How are we even supposed to get into the ball? Imagine the security! Rosalie stole my shift, and I resigned from my job with remember? I stuffed it into Smithers’s face. It’s not like I can go and beg him for it back.”
You leave that up to me, she says smugly.
I huff in annoyance, not liking the sound of this. “Why do we need a ball gown anyway? They never told me we needed special attire for this event. I can’t serve canapes dressed in a ball gown.”
Not a ball gown, she says. I want that sexy little nude sequined body con dress.
