Page 9 of Curiosity

The Black Gallery.

I didn’t have to look up a single detail to know it was him.

There was just… thisfeelingthat crept over me.

A feeling that wouldn’t allow me to simply say, “no, that shit was creepy!”

Which was why I hadn’t answered yet at all.

Because I knew the answer wouldhaveto be yes.

“Hey, you needed these, right?” Brosia asked from the open doorway of the industrial kitchen. She held up a bundle of vibrant hued hibiscus, and I nodded.

“Yesss, thank you boo,” I said, putting down the knife I’d been using to slice fresh lemons so I could accept the flowers. “They’re all so perfect!”

She grinned. “I aim to please – and I saw the cards with my name on them you printed to go on the beverage stand. You didn’t have to do that!”

“The hell I didn’t,” I countered, pulling out a clean container to store the flowers in the fridge until I could clean and process them for inclusion in the artisan lemonade in the spread for my afternoon client. “Especially since you’re coming through with a few last-minute arrangements I can use to decorate the charcuterie.”

One neatly groomed eyebrow went up. “This is the first I’m hearing about arrangements for a—Celeste…”

“My baaaaad,” I laughed. “I just had the idea literally ten minutes ago. I know the client was explicit about not wanting it to look overly feminine, but in my head, the layout just isn’t pretty enough.”

“When do you need them?” Brosia asked, crossing her arms.

“Two hours?”

“Oh my God.”

“I understand if that’s not enough time,” I assured, holding up my hands. “Like I said – I know it’s last minute.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ll have the damn flowers for you,” she fussed. “But just know – I amnothappy about this timing.”

“I know. I love youuuu,” I grinned, hooking an arm around her for an embrace.

“Yeah, yeah,” she huffed. “Hey, you never told me about how the party went the other night.”

My eyes went big, and I hurried to release her and take a step away. “What party?”

“Bitch.”

I groaned. “I can’t.”

“Can’twhat?” she asked, stepping around me to look me in the face.

“Talk about it.”

“Bitch.”

“Stopppp,” I pouted, dropping to a seat at the counter. “I’m serious.”

“So am I, the fuck?” Brosia replied, stepping up to the opposite side of the counter. “What the hell do you mean you can’t talk about it? You signed an NDA can’t talk about it, or somebody is threatening your ass can’t talk about it?”

I sighed. “Neither. Well… kinda the first one. Ididsign an NDA, but I don’t think it covers… I don’t know. Nevermind.”

“Bullshit,” she countered, propping her hands on the cool stainless-steel surface. “Start talking, sis.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

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