Page 18 of His Haunted Desire
“I’m going to clean the kitchen,” I say, standing up. “You can cheer me on if you like.”
When that doesn’t get a rise out of her either, I put on some headphones and start clearing the counter so that I can spray them. Since the meeting with Raiden, I’ve kept busier than usual. His offer bounces around my head more than once, but I try not to linger on it. He’s probably found someone else by now, anyway.
I decide to go the whole hog. Cleaninsidethe cupboards. That’s how I know I’m more than eager for a distraction.
At the back of the spice cupboard, I find a stack of envelopes. I take them out slowly, looking over the divider to make sure Grandma isn’t looking in my direction. Red letters marked each envelope.
LATE.
DUE NOW.
URGENT RESPONSE REQUIRED.
Bills, all of them, and all late. I want to ask Grandma what she was thinking, shoving these here, ignoring them. They’re from water and electrical companies and, worst of all, the bank. Has she missed mortgage payments, too? She’s almost paid off the building. Just a couple more years.
My hands tremble as my thoughts whir.
What choice do I have now?
I put them where I found them, close the cupboard, then go into my bedroom and call Ellie.
“If I needed you to stay here for a long weekend to take care of Grandma, could you do it?”
She answers without a moment of hesitation. “Absolutely. I can write copy anywhere. Why?”
“I might go to the Annual Grand Masquerade Retreat. Raiden Blackwell wants to pay me to pretend to be his date.”
Ellie gasps. “Why?”
“Rich people reasons. Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“I’m here for you, Aurora. Both of you.”
“Thanks, Ellie.”
I hang up, then grab Raiden’s business card. I’m going to have to swallow my pride, bite the bullet as the saying goes and hope it doesn’t blow my brains out in the process.
A rich person’s plaything for an entire long weekend. Doing what he says. As hecommands. A tingle moves up my spine.
No, stop that right now. This is about money, nothing else. That’s how it’s going to start, and that’s how it’s going to stay.
I call the number before I chicken out.
“Yes?” he says in a low, impatient voice.
“It’s me,” I say.
A pause. Obviously, he doesn’t know who ‘me’ is. I’m about to say my name when he cuts in.
“Aurora Maren,” he says.
“Yeah. Good guess.”
“I recognize your voice,” he tells me, which makes me smile. I wipe it away. “What can I do for you this fine evening?”
“I wanted to… check if the suit was okay?”
“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t call about the suit.”
