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“It’s too late.” I grasped for another excuse to delay the trip. “It’s dangerous to fly at this time.”
Xavier didn’t deign to acknowledge my ridiculous statement.
Red-eye flights took off after midnight all the time.
The cab driver twisted around to glare at us. “Claridge’s or Stansted?” he demanded. “I don’t have all night.”
“Stansted. Sorry, my man.” Xavier shoved a handful of bills toward the front seat. “Appreciate it.”
Mollified, the other man grabbed the cash and sped off.
I guess I wasn’t the only one who bribed drivers when the occasion called for it.
“Relax, Luna.” Xavier laughed as we wound through the near-empty streets at a breakneck pace. “You’re officially off the clock for the next week. Enjoy it.”
I pressed my lips together.
All I have to do is get through the week without slipping up.I wasn’t sure what “slipping up” would look like, but foreboding inched beneath my skin the closer we got to the airport.
I didn’t know what would happen when I didn’t have the buffer of work to shield me, but if Xavier thought he could trick me into letting down my guard in Spain, he had another thing coming.
Vacation or not, I was still me. I didn’t let people see past what I wanted them to see, and nothing would change that—not even a forced week off with my client nemesis.
CHAPTER5
Xavier
Sloane and I flew to Mallorca in silence. I could tell she was plotting my demise the entire time, but luckily, all sharp objects remained blood-free when we landed.
By then, we were so tired she didn’t argue over sharing a villa with me, and I didn’t protest when she took the primary suite. I was simply happy to fall into bed and pass out.
Despite my exhaustion, it was a fitful sleep plagued by replays of the same dream. I was crossing a bridge with Hershey, my pet chocolate Lab from childhood, but every time I made it halfway, the gaps between the planks widened. No matter how hard I tried to jump the distance or cling to the railing, we fell through the gap. I plunged into quicksand and watched helplessly as the surrounding river swept my beloved dog away.
Hershey died years ago from old age, but that didn’t matter to Dream Me. The crushing anchor of failure weighed me down more than the quicksand.
The fall happened over and over and over until I woke up, heart pounding and body drenched in sweat.
Variations of the dream had haunted me for years.
Sometimes, I was with Hershey. Other times, I was with my mother, an old friend, or an ex-girlfriend. Whoever it was, the result remained the same.
I was stuck watching them die.
“Fuck this.” My harsh voice chased some of the ghosts away as I tossed my covers off.
It was only eight. I usually didn’t get up until past ten, but I couldn’t stay in that bed any longer.
I turned the shower as cold as it would go and washed away the remnants of the night.
It was just a stupid dream. I wasn’t going to let it ruin my trip, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to dig deeper into what it meant. Ignorance was bliss.
I scrubbed harder with the soap.
By the time I toweled off and threw on a shirt and pants, I’d corralled my unease to the back corners of my mind where it belonged.
I headed to the kitchen but stopped halfway when a flash of movement caught my eye.
I came to a dead halt.
