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“Now, think of the best sex you’ve ever had.”

Ugh.

Exhaling deeply, I closed my eyes and thought of inked hands next to mine on the shower wall. I thought of Ronan’s mouth on my neck and the fullness of him inside me. His hand collaring my throat. Vse moya. The way he held me. How he smelled and tasted. I remembered. And it hit me with a ball of fire that erupted inside me.

I opened my eyes.

Click.

Silence settled on the terrace while longing tore through me. I hoped Carlos got the shot because I didn’t want to be here anymore.

“Wow, girl . . .” Carlos murmured. “We definitely got it. But now we all want to hear the story.”

Everyone stared at me while my heart slowly ripped in half. I dropped the pint of milk and walked offset. Grabbing my bag, I exited the studio and sucked in a shaky breath of fresh air, heading to the villa I shared with a couple of models during the two-day stay.

I wished Khaos was with me, but some ridiculous pet quarantine laws had ended that idea, so he was staying with Emma, who still volunteered with me at the homeless shelter. And I really hoped Khaos hadn’t eaten one of her cats. I was about to call her when my phone buzzed in my purse. I dug it out.

Papa: The Miami house is being put on the market. If there is anything you would like to keep, you should do so by next week.

That was the first correspondence I had with my father since he’d walked out of the hospital. I meant it when I’d said we shouldn’t be in contact. The relationship always brought me down in a dark way rather than up, and these four months without his presence had lifted a massive weight off my shoulders. It was the right decision. Regardless of who my mother was as a person, I couldn’t look at my father again without seeing her lifeless body and the sibling inside of her I’d never meet.

Me: OK.

The next morning, I flew home to Miami.

I’d rented an apartment in the downtown area but had yet to furnish it with anything more than a mattress. I knew I wouldn’t be staying in Miami, but I was unsure of where I belonged yet.

In my heart, I knew.

I had a lot of time to think these past four months, and I now understood with a certainty where I belonged and what I wanted. Though I hadn’t heard a word from Ronan since his last note. Insecurity had wedged itself in my chest with the belief he didn’t have the same feelings anymore and that maybe it really was proshchay.

I’d rather live with a little hope than with outright rejection.

A cabbie picked me up at the airport, and I gave him the address to Emma’s place, anxiety taking over. Emma had told me everything was perfectly fine on the phone last night, but there was a nervous edge to her voice and lots of hissing in the background. I definitely needed to figure out a better place for Khaos to stay when I was away.

Absently gazing through the window, the sight outside raised the hair on my arms, and I blurted, “Stop here.”

The cabbie thought I was crazy by the look he cast me through the rearview mirror, but he pulled over on the side of the road and let me out after I shoved some cash into his hand.

I walked across the street and onto the grassy plot of land where the carnival looked to be setting up. The carneys gave me odd glances while they worked on half-mast tents, unloaded amusement rides, and crammed massive stuffed prizes on the game shelves.

The trailer looked exactly the same as it had six years ago: sun-faded exterior, an ominous red door, and purple beaded curtains.

With conviction, I walked up the warped metal stairs and knocked. There was no response, so I knocked again. Curses and grumbles came from inside, and then the door flew open, revealing Madame Richie dressed in a nightgown with a lit cigarette in her hand.

“Vat do you vant?” she snapped.

“A refund,” I demanded.

With a roll of her eyes, she stabbed a finger at the crudely designed sign taped to the trailer that said, “No Refunds,” in bright red letters.

“Goodvye now.” She tried to shut the door in my face, but I kept it open with my foot.

“Your sign should have a disclaimer saying once you go in, you’ll never get out,” I growled. “You’ve haunted me worse than any horror flick I’ve ever seen. Worse than Saws.” She didn’t blink. “And I’m demanding a refund. Right. Now.” I was breathing a little harshly after that speech, but this confrontation had been a long time coming.

“Haunted, eh?” She inhaled on her cigarette, slowly blew out the smoke, and let the door fall open as she ventured inside the trailer. “Come in. We discuss this refund.”

All I wanted was my dang fifty bucks back as if its return would erase her presence in my life, but it seemed I wasn’t getting it yet, so reluctantly, I ended up following her inside.


Tags: Danielle Lori Made Erotic