Page 93 of Lethal Vows

My eyebrows knit in confusion. I don’t remember ordering anything, even on the nights when I drank a whole bottle of wine to myself. I sign for the boxes, then take them inside. Grabbing a knife, I cut open the first box and shift the packing material to one side to reveal something red underneath.

Red leather and red lace.

Oh shit.

I forgot all about this.

My mother looks over and whistles appreciatively.

I didn’t really think he would send it to me, but here I am, holding the most expensive thing I own.

Wow.

I find a note at the bottom.

Dear Rya

I have requested Dawson send these your way. Even though you are a bitch, I still respect your body. And in doing so, I hate you.

I want you to know that.

I hate you.

But I also want to fuck you again.

In these outfits.

But I can’t and I won’t.

Because I’m getting married.

And that wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, would it?

Do not throw this out.

Do not reply.

The man you fucked over and shot.

I scrunchmy nose up at the note.

And I don’t want to try the lingerie on anymore.

He’s getting married.

That was fast.

What’s it been, like, a four weeks?

Fuck him.

I inhale a shaky breath and turn to my mother, who pretends she’s busy looking elsewhere but most likely has read the note and knows everything.

“You know what? Let’s go on that girls’ trip,” I all but seethe.Fuck him.Hot yoga and wine are not going to help me get over this unbearable asshole, and maybe taking my first holiday from work would be good for the soul.

* * *

Sittingacross from my mother on a plane to Italy was not exactly what I had planned. I didn’t end up telling Angel I was coming because I didn’t want to risk her mentioning to Crue that I would be there. I don’t want him to know I’m coming back home. I’m not going there to see him, so it’s only fair he doesn’t find out. But in saying that, I have a feeling nothing gets by him, and he will, without a doubt, figure out that I’m back.

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