Page 29 of Spark of Obsession


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He leans back in his chair and taps his long fingers on the marble. “He is part of Entice, yes.”

“I ran into him today.” Literally.

“He was here getting his file updated,” Dominic explains. “All clients are required to update their health and personal information every three months.”

The phone rings, stopping our conversation.

“Give me a minute, Angie.”

I make a move to get up to leave, but he gestures with his hand for me to remain seated. He places the cordless phone on his shoulder and maintains eye contact with me.

“Dominic,” he greets. “It’s done. No.” His once pleasant tone darkens. I guess he can be in a bad mood after all. “Yes, of course. Too late.” Another pause. “You know that,” he snaps. “Some things are just out of your control.”

He is getting irritated. I want to leave. I really don’t like confrontation—even if it isn’t about me.

“I’m not being unreasonable. You are,” he growls. Dominic glances at his watch and then back up at me. “You know the deal. Why are we even having this conversation again? We can talk about this at another time. I have no doubt.” He places the phone back on the charger and then props his elbows on his desk. “Do you have a smartphone?”

“No.”

“Upgrade this week. The agency will reimburse you one hundred dollars per month for the service plan to ensure that it is made available for clients to contact you.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

Reaching into another drawer, Dominic pulls out a sealed envelope.

“A thousand dollars should cover the cost of the phone.”

Cool. One less thing to pay for out of the list of bills.

“I’ll text you tomorrow, Angie. I’ll also bring you your bracelet that you are encouraged to wear during dates.”

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Looking forward to tomorrow.”

I move to get up but am halted with Dominic’s hand.

“I’m going to have security walk you out to your car.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s late. And I’ll have peace of mind knowing you got to your car safely. As for your outfit from the shoot, just keep it.”

I watch as he presses a button on his phone. He must have someone on speed dial because it only takes a second for someone to answer. And within a minute, there is a knock at the door.

The guard’s attire consists of black jeans and a gray long-sleeved T-shirt. He wears a Bluetooth device in his ear. Other than that, I wouldn’t be able to tell that he is hired for building security. Although his face is young, the fortress of muscle screams “don’t piss with me” just by the sternness of his demeanor.

The parking garage looks bare and a bit intimidating. Classic horror movies have scenes focused around such set designs. Lonely girl. Nighttime. Empty parking garage. Enter deranged serial killer. Part of me is happy Dominic insisted on a security guard escort. Irony.

“Thank you for walking me out.”

“No problem, Miss McFee.” He smiles genuinely as he shuts the door to my car.

I turn on my ignition and back out carefully.

At the corner of Madison and 2nd, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. Zander’s surfing picture appears across my screen, his blond locks darkened by the Pacific.

Zander: Free on Friday at 10? Open-mic night @ Shack. Please tell me you can make it!? ;)

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