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“That’s the whole story, Emma. You were conceived at the same time, born nearly twelve hours apart. Twins are no mystery. They have been born throughout the ages.”

I shook my head. “But our birthdates—”

Jezebel lifted her hand.

It was the same thing Rett did to silence people.

She took another breath. “The spirits keep reminding me that of everyone here, you know the least.”

“Miss Guidry has told me some.”

Jezebel grinned. “Ruth means well, but her allegiance is divided.”

“What do you mean?”

Jezebel shook her head. “One thing at a time. Nearly thirty—no, more specifically, twenty-eight years ago, I went to Isaiah Boudreau for his help and blessing to begin a business because to succeed in New Orleans, I needed either his or Abraham Ramses’s support. That choice too was a mistake.”

“He raped you.”

“Not right away. He led me to believe he would help me. He set me up for a fall, for public failure that he believed would rid him and New Orleans of the likes of me forever. That was his plan. This all occurred when I was younger than you are now. In hindsight, I should have gone to Mr. Ramses.”

“Rett’s father.”

Jezebel nodded. “When I did, it was too late. They had an agreement. You see, I had received a bank loan, and I had a business plan.”

“Event planning,” I said.

She smiled. “Ruth has told you. Now it’s my turn. Let me tell you my story.”

I nodded.

“I’d worked hard to create an upstanding business. New Orleans was booming. I didn’t have the education, but I did research. I talked with successful entrepreneurs. I read anything and everything I could find from books in the library to business journals. I scoured city records. Everything is public if you know where to look. I analyzed the value of land and the cost of construction. It made sense to have a small investment in brick and mortar and a bigger investment in people.

“My plan was to provide all aspects of event planning. For catering, I’d have that building, a kitchen, and cooks. New Orleans has some of the most talented cooks who never prepare anything other than dinner for their own families. I’d hire servers and waiters. There were numerous people I knew who, if given the opportunity, would make their way out of the small niche where life had placed them. These were men and women who were hard workers and willing to learn.

“Instead of investing in space for the events, I’d work with the businesses already growing, the hotels and convention center. Events didn’t need to be limited to spaces under roofs. The riverfront was developing. We have beautiful parks. I knew the cost for renting every space in the greater New Orleans parishes.

“What I lacked were people with the money to make it happen. The bank loan was a start, but I’d worked the spreadsheets and I knew, to be successful, to hit the ground running, I needed more cash flow. Mr. Boudreau arranged a meeting.” She took a deep breath. “It was supposed to be with other investors, people who had the capital to invest. He had connections to some of the biggest and most influential people in Louisiana.” Her chin rose. “Some of those people were present.”

“For the meeting?” I asked.

“The gathering wasn’t what I’d expected. I arrived prepared for questions. I had folders of research and data to substantiate my business plan.” She inhaled. “That wasn’t why they’d been invited.”

The recently consumed dinner churned in my stomach.

She continued, “Isaiah believed my humiliation would be greater if the act was witnessed.”

My eyes blinked but words were difficult to form. “No one helped you?”

Jezebel shook her head. And yet watching and listening, there was no emotion in her expression or voice, as if she was telling a story about another person, not the horrific details of her own assault.

Silence fell over the kitchen as a breeze came out of nowhere, rustling the curtains beside the windows.

“The spirits are here. They want you to understand.”

Rett

Johnny coughed.


Tags: Aleatha Romig Devil's Duet Erotic