Page 104 of Souls and Sorrows

I haven’t had to use it much before now, but I’m grateful that I chose to be a dick and invade her privacy like that, because I see her at a commercial building downtown, and realize she’s gone to the awards ceremony without me.

That’s when I spot it.

The diamond sparkles in the overhead lighting, and a flash of rose gold fills my peripheral as I pull up the GPS app. My thumb freezes mid-swipe, and I lean forward, fear grabbing hold of my heart and squeezing until the organ threatens to pop.

Ariana’s ring.

The one she wanted to take off just the other day, sitting on the nightstand.

Discarded and covered in her blood.

Betrayal burns like lava on my tongue, and I inhale deeply, willing myself to think before I act.

I stare at the ring for ages, trying to make sense of what it means. Trying not to panic, especially given that she didn’t seem opposed to keeping it on after our little rendezvous in the BMW.

Though, I suppose, it’s possible I misread her afterglow for compliance. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s kept something from me and likely won’t be the last.

Kal’s words from the other day echo in my mind as I configure the GPS app, zeroing in on her location.

“You should maybe consider the long-term effects that vengeance can have on a person and whether or not you’re sticking around to be her main source of support.”

As I note the address where she is, growing more agitated by the minute, I stand up and shoot a quick text, notifying the recipient of my forthcoming location. Just in case. I pocket the ring, determined to get it back on Ariana’s finger where it belongs, then drag her to the nearest supply closet at this event and show her whereshebelongs—impaled on my cock and crying out my name.

I’m not sure what she has left of her quest for revenge, but I do know one thing: it will either bemesupporting her or no one at all.

32

The Boston Dance Associationdoesn’t have a building to host an awards ceremony, so they rent out a metropolitan building in the downtown area. I’ve never been inside of it before, but as I give my ticket to one of the ushers standing on its red-carpeted stairs outside, I ignore the plaque with my father’s name hanging on the white brick.

I will not let him ruin what already promises to be a shitty night.

Inside is about what you’d expect from an event like this—big crystal chandeliers hanging from the massive ceiling, bright lights glaring down on the overly polished floor, and catering trays everywhere you turn. There’s a balcony up above the immediate ballroom, and through a few doors in the back, I can see an auditorium, though most of the crowd seems to be out here mingling.

I scan the throng of people, taking in every evening gown and rented tux, trying to find my missing cargo. Gliding around the room, I weave in and out of groups and couples as a string quartet plays a slow number in one corner, making it easy to pretend that I’m just really into the music.

Someone grabs my bicep, and I spin around to meet a petite blonde woman in a shimmering peach dress. She beams up at me, explaining that she was with a former client, and I do my best to act like I’m listening while still searching the room.

Where are you, Little Nightmare? And why do you insist on making my life fucking miserable?

“The shrimp cocktail tonight is to die for,” the woman says, crunching on a piece of hers as she lifts it to show me. “If you do nothing else tonight, you have to try these.”

I nod, tugging my arm free of her grip. “I’ll have to do that, certainly. Now, is there any chance you’ve seen my wife here tonight?”

The woman purses her lips. “Ariana Ricci, right?”

“Primrose,” I correct. “Leggy brunette with an attitude that sometimes makes you wish you could just punch people in the face?”

Her eyes widen, and a grimace takes over her mouth. “Uh… is everything okay at home?”

Sighing, I nod, gripping her by her shoulders and pushing her aside as I go to leave. “Everything’s fine. It’s just role play.”

I leave her standing there with concern etched deep into her brows. Sighing, I glance up at the balcony, squinting at the faces gathered above the ornate banister. Only a few people linger—some tucked away in shadows, others leaning over to watch the room below.

One person at the very end has their elbows hooked over the edge of the balcony, her face obscured by the poor lighting where she’s at. Almost as if she parked herself there on purpose, hoping not to be noticed by anyone in the crowd.

Except me.

No matter how packed a room or how much distance we put between us, I would notice her. My soul aches for hers, recognizing it immediately, and I take the stairs to the next level two at a time. Passing up a couple tangled tightly together in a corner, I slow my pace and try to sneak up on her, though I can tell by the way she stiffens that she knows I’m here, even without turning.

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