Page 43 of Blitzing Emily

Now she was standing at the front door, and Emily wasn’t sure what to say to her.

Anastasia brushed past Emily and walked into the house without a word. She was dazzling. At the same time, Emily noticed dark violet shadows beneath her eyes. Someone wasn’t sleeping.

“Excuse me,” Emily said, not using her inside voice. “I didn’t invite you in.”

“Well, I’m here. Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?”

“You need to leave.Now.”

Anastasia cantered away from Emily, and didn’t even bother to turn and look at her when she spoke. “I don’t think so. We need to have a little chat.”

Emily slammed the door shut and followed her into the living room. Not only had Anastasia made herself at home on the couch, she lit a cigarette. She crossed her legs and leaned back against the cushions.

“Nobody smokes in my house. Please put that out,” Emily snapped.

Anastasia looked around. “I don’t see any ashtrays.” She blew out a long, thin stream of smoke.

“Why are you here, and how did you find me?”

“I heard you’re engaged.” She flipped a perfect, shiny curtain of espresso brown hair over one bony shoulder and gave Emily a look that one could only classify as contemptuous. Her eyes were as blue and cold as an iceberg. They were quite a contrast with her blood-red lips.

“Yes, I am.”

“Stay away from Brandon.”

Emily stared at her. “You’re kidding me, right?” She’d evidently walked into some sort of parallel universe.

“No, I’m not. He loves me. He’ll always love me.”

“Didn’t you dump him? Why do you care at all what he does?” Emily shot back.

She saw Anastasia flinch in response. She crossed her arms across her chest to help her resist the impulse to yank a handful of her unwanted guest’s hair out. She also noticed something odd—Anastasia looked like a clothes hanger, but her stomach was slightly rounded. Maybe she was malnourished. In the meantime, her possible vitamin deficiency had certainly not done wonders for her attitude.

“You shouldn’t stand like that,” Anastasia said. “It’s not a good look for you.” Her lip curled. “It makes you look—chunky. Then again, you are a little on the chunky side, aren’t you?”

“When’s the last time you ate something, Anastasia—during the Bush administration?”

“You don’t look like you’ve missed many meals.” She sneered. “Brandon must be mercy fucking these days.”

“Get out. Get out before I call the cops.” Emily pointed toward the front door.

“You let me in.”

“Maybe I should call Brandon instead. I’m sure he’d be interested to learn that you’re here.”

Anastasia’s smile was positively feline. “You do that. He’ll tell you himself that he wants me.” She blew another stream of smoke in Emily’s direction. She was obviously out of her mind.

Emily thought about hosing her down with the spray faucet in the kitchen. She’d probably melt.

“You’ve got ten seconds. I want you out of my house, or the cops are coming.”

Anastasia’s nastiness had finally registered. Emily was an opera singer, not a rocket scientist. Then again, she’d managed to scoop up a man Anastasia evidently still wanted.

“He still wants you, does he? I’m wearing his ring.” Emily held up her hand and watched the diamond sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the living room windows.

The look on Anastasia’s face was indescribable, but the words rage, grief, and revenge came to mind. “Bitch,” she breathed.

“It took me less than a week.” Emily studied her manicure. It was going to be hell to get the smoke smell out of the furniture, but this was worth it. “Maybe you should explain to me how this happened. He loves you, but he asked me to marry him.”

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