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Perhaps encouraging more out of him about his son, Jude.
Still, I’m too afraid to pinch myself because only nightmares about Momma are this vivid.
The women pull my shirt over my hair, taking with it my dignity. I’m tugged out of my jeans, left only in an invisible coat of shame as my hands dart over my mound.
Another door opens, and Hadiyah escorts me into the en suite.
The tub is a large triangle that rests underground. It's full of bubbles and red rose petals. I start to get in. It’s deeper than I thought, and one of the ladies takes my hand. Emotionless, she helps me descend into the water, which is just the right temperature. Suds massage my body. Tears mix with the soapy water as the women clean and wash my hair. My mind drifts . . .
I lay against the headrest of the infinity tub as Victor massaged my scalp. I’d just been questioned by the detective who’d headed my mother’s murder case. The detective asked me questions about an incident at my flower shop, but I could only think of my mom, Gina, and her gruesome death.
As Victor catered to my needs, I felt so good. My satin skin soaked up the moisture as steam from the soapy water became a blanket surrounding me. An orgasmic sigh rolled off the tip of my tongue, prompting Victor to stop for a second. He took in my plush lips for a kiss.
Returning to his labor, Victor worked, moisturizing conditioner up from the nape of my neck. As I moaned, he paused to concentrate on that tiny little hook at the base of my head. Pure heaven. At that very moment, I voiced the words floating around in my head. “God, I love you, Victor.”
And I thought his lack of response was like a serrated knife to the heart.
* * *
“There is no reason for you to cry.” Hadiyah’s lips thin, along with her patience.
My hair is a coiled mass as I get out of the bath. I step toward the window and look down. The ground is so far away. I’d die from the shock of falling alone. But I’m not ready to give in. I place my hands protectively over my stomach.
I.
Will.
Survive.
2
Victor
The yellow and green ambulance flashes before my eyes as I take the road by storm. The first responders heading toward my estate swivel out of the way at the last moment.Bloody fuck! Slow down, Vic, or Burt will be of no use to you.
While my butler’s still at the scene, unable to move, he breathes shakily into the receiver.
“My jet’s readied?” I ask.
“Of course,” he measures out. “Just awaiting real analgesic—”
“Oh, mate, get your pain medicine. With any luck, you’ll have assistance in...I’d say...sixty seconds. Take care of yourself.”
“That’ll be very well then. However, if they’re intent on taking me—”
“Burt, of course! You must visit a hospital.” I tight fist the wheel, glaring at an oncoming firetruck. If Burt weren’t out of commission, I’d allow the whole lot to burn down. Whoever planted the bomb for the sheikh was present last night during Queen Mary’s rant. At any rate, could my very own mother have had a liaison with the sheikh? I suppose if she wants something done. I clear my throat and fortify my response. “Old chap, you’ve assisted Luxury by arranging my travels. You’ve done enough.”
“Rubbish! I’ll take medication. I refuse to be indisposed until Paul rings me.”
Why did he call Paul? And when? I just left the estate a few precious minutes ago.“Elaborate,” I growl.
“Victor, I will not allow you to go on a death mission—”
“I hear the ambulance in the background. Do as you’ve been told, Burt the Butler. And apparently, you’ve forgotten our squabble.”
“Vic—”
“That’s exactly what I prefer. Death wish. Solo mission,” I hiss, toggling the stick shift. The sports car almost hydroplanes, but I right the powerful vehicle just in time.
