Chapter 4
At the tail end of a Saturday-night wedding reception—one week later—Emily moved through another ballroom.
They all ran together: same soft lighting, same wilting centerpieces, same aching feet, and a budding headache pulsing at the base of her skull.
With the five-tiered cake cut and served, only punch refills and cleanup remained.
Her gaze swept the gathering, confirming everything was under control, then she slipped into the service hallway. Not to the loading dock for a break—she’d learned that lesson—but necessity was called that for a reason, and she’d been putting it off for the last hour.
The staff restroom was blissfully empty.
After taking care of business, she crossed to the sink and froze at her reflection. For someone who lived in the Sunshine State, she looked ghostly—washed out, nearly translucent. The dark shadows beneath her eyes had become more pronounced over the past week, smudging her face like bruises.
Lack of sleep was the obvious culprit. And she blamed Alec.
Seeing him again had dragged that old nightmare into the regular rotation. The one that haunted her for years. The one she thought she’d outrun.
It always began the same way…
A police captain escorted her into a cold, windowless room.
The air reeked of antiseptic and something else, something worse.
A man in white scrubs and a surgical mask approached a wall of small stainless-steel doors.
He opened one and slid out a tray, the unmistakable shape of a body beneath a sheet.
Emily shrank against the captain’s arm. “No. Please. Don’t make me look.”
“You must,” he insisted, nodding to the other man.
Her pulse pounded, her stomach twisting into knots as gloved hands peeled back the sheet.
Sometimes, it was her father lying there, young and vibrant, as she remembered him from her childhood.
Other times, it was her mother, peaches-and-cream complexion and perfect as if she were merely napping.
Lately, Ethan had joined the mix, familiar dark stubble and the same half smile he’d worn the last time she saw him.
Seeing them whole, as they had been in life, offered a strange, ugly comfort then the dream turned darker.
Low, velvety laughter drifted through the room—Alec’s, impossible to mistake. She searched the shadows.
“Where is he?” she demanded, but the captain didn’t answer. The tray disappeared. The man in scrubs stood alone. Above his mask were black, soulless eyes. He ripped the mask off. The face behind it twisted, the laugh now chilling—nothing like Alec’s.
She lunged for the door, but it was locked.
“Who are you?” she cried.
“I think you know,” the voice replied, impossibly close. “I’ve come for my next victim.”
She turned to face him, but the man in white was gone. A figure in a voluminous black robe stood where he’d been, a gnarled hand clutching a sickle. “You’ve taken everything I cherish. I’m not afraid of you!” she shouted.
The sharp reply cut like a blade. “Foolish girl. You aren’t who I want.” The tray reappeared. The sheet dissolved, revealing Alec’s still face. “Your beloved knight is next on my list.”
“No!” Emily screamed, but nothing could drown out the deathly image or his horrific laughter.
She always woke with a jolt—sheets damp, throat raw, heart racing.
Even now, the memory of the nightmare felt physical.
She gripped the porcelain edge of the sink, forcing herself to breathe. The harsh buzz of the fluorescent light and the faint hum of water through the plumbing dampened the echo of that laughter.
“It’s just a bad dream,” she told her reflection.
Would anything, even repeated affirmations, ever dispel the haunting images?
She splashed cold water on her face and pinched her cheeks until a hint of color returned. The best concealer wouldn’t erase the shadows of exhaustion—today, she hadn’t even bothered.
“You really need to see someone,” she whispered.
She’d tried it once, years ago, but therapy took time and money she didn’t have.
Returning to the service hall, she slumped against the cool wall and closed her eyes, savoring a moment of silence.
Maybe stopping by the house earlier in the week—chasing a late rent check—had dredged up the nightmare.
Would she ever be able to enter the house she grew up in without being emotionally assaulted?
She should let it go. The rent barely covered the mortgage, the tax bill loomed, tuition was due, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away. She didn’t have the heart to. Which was why she’d agreed to work her one night off for the week.
With a weary sigh, she straightened. Regina would fire her for slacking, and she couldn’t afford to lose this side work. She drew her practiced smile into place and returned to the grind.
The room smelled of citrus punch and the faint brine of shrimp cocktail. Champagne glasses chimed, laughter rose in waves, and the band, a pop trio, blared through the patio doors. The bass thudded in her chest, but it was the lyrics with sweet, saccharine promises that scraped her raw.
Weddings paid the bills, but tonight, the spectacle of marital bliss grated. Everything—from syrupy vows to the bouquet toss—felt staged.
But she wasn’t fooling herself. The real reason she disliked weddings was harder to face.
She knew, with cold certainty, this milestone would never be hers.
No father walking her down the aisle. No mother fussing over her dress and hair.
No Ethan at her side. And no Alec, the man she’d always envisioned as her groom.
Her smile thinned. She’d chosen safety over connection, and now the cost was plain. Psychologists had a term for it—avoidance. No attachments meant no pain.
Emily called it survival.
While clearing the dessert plates, she ignored the twinge in her lower back from lifting yet another heavy tray full of dirty dishes and made her way to the kitchen. It took her only moments to unload before returning to the ballroom for more.
“What’s keeping the happy couple? My dogs are barking!” Julia Dykstra leaned against a pillar, breathless and frizzed by the humidity—every inch a poodle caught in a thunderstorm. She was a warm, willowy blonde with a wry sense of humor, and the closest thing Emily had to a friend.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“Regina put me on ice sculpture duty for being late today. A fitting punishment since humidity and my hair do not mix.” Julia pulled the hair tie from her ponytail, finger combed it, then tried to wrangle her mass of hair into a bun but failed.
“Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but knowing that, why move to Florida of all places?”
“If you’d ever lived through a Minnesota winter, you wouldn’t question my motives,” she said, snagging and tucking in a stray curl.
“How did you lift it? Doesn’t it weigh a ton?”
“I didn’t have to unload it, but everything else, from unwrapping, draining, and unclogging hoses, was all on me.
Who spends money on ice sculptures in the subtropics?
” she scoffed. “They turn to slush in this heat. Which happened by eight. Regina moved me to trash detail then—another cruel and inhuman punishment. It’s still ninety freaking degrees outside, and the sun went down hours ago. ”
“I was wondering about the aroma,” Emily said, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Stand downwind at least, will you?”
Julia made a face. “I’m going to sleep standing up. Wake me when it’s time to go.”
When she stilled and her breathing deepened, Emily couldn’t believe she was actually asleep on her feet. She glanced around for their grumpy boss. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, but Regina had a knack for appearing out of nowhere when least expected.
“You’re already in trouble, Jules. Don’t make it worse. She’s fired people for a lot less.”
Her friend groaned. “Just five more minutes, Mom?”
Emily laughed, the sound soft but genuine. Julia’s humor loosened something tight in her chest. For a breath, she felt almost normal. “You’ve got to stay awake,” she insisted. “If for no other reason than you’re my ride home.”
It took them two months of working together to realize they lived in the same building—Julia on four, Emily on three.
She grunted, pushing to her feet. “You’re probably right. With my rent, car insurance, and car loan all coming due next week, I can’t afford to screw this up and miss out on Saturday night.”
“Regina mentioned a special function. It’s all very hush-hush. Are you working too?”
Suddenly alert, Julia’s eyes widened with surprise. “She told you about that?”
“Yah. Why are you so shocked? I’ve been working for her without a major screwup for over a year. From the way she talks, that’s gotta be a record.”
“It’s a really exclusive gig. We have to sign nondisclosures. But it pays a whack.”
“How much of a whack?” Emily asked. Regina never said.
“Five hundred bucks.”
“For one night!” Emily exclaimed, drawing a few glances.
“Yeah,” Julia replied as she pulled her behind the pillar, shielding them from curious eyes. “It’s a regular thing. Regina caters it once or twice a week.”
A regular thing? NDAs? Five hundred bucks? Her instincts prickled. Something about it felt off—but she needed the money too badly to care.
“Why wasn’t I asked before now?” Emily’s voice sharpened. “I’ve been with Regina longer than you.”
Her friend shrugged in answer.
“Do you know how long it takes me to earn a grand, serving waffles?” She looked around. “Where’s Regina? I’m going to ask her about it.”
“You can’t. She’ll know I blabbed.”
“I won’t say who told me.”
“You won’t have to,” Julia insisted.
Seeing the alarm on her face, Emily relented. “Oh, all right. But I could have used the extra money. I’m still a few hundred short on my tuition, which is due in a few days. And it would be a shame to see my family home taken by the city for taxes.”
“It’s that bad?”
“When your renters don’t pay rent, yes.”
“Now, I’m pissed.” Julia straightened, her flagging energy sparking to life. “You should evict them.”
“I thought of that, but lawyers cost money I don’t have.”
Julia stared at her, concern and uncertainty warring in her eyes. “If you’re going to do this, stick close to me on Saturday. I’ll make sure you don’t screw up so you’ll get asked back.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me—or Regina—until you see the place. It’s no country club.”
Still in the dark, Emily asked, “What is it, exactly?”
“Didn’t she tell you?”
“She asked if boobs and butts offended me. That’s about it.”
“Better hang on to your britches, sister. What you’ll see will curl your hair.”
That would be a feat. Her straight-as-a-pin hair hadn’t held a curl in her life, no matter what she tried.
As Emily pieced together what both Regina and Julia had told her, she frowned. “You’re scaring me. What exactly did I sign up for?”
“Just a server gig—at the most exclusive BDSM club in Florida. Maybe the whole Southeast.”
“BDSM? You mean whips and chains and leather?”
“That was the seventies version. Kink has evolved. Think suspensions, cupping, and rides you’ve never imagined.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I do have one crucial question. Do I have to be naked?”
Julia hooted with laughter. “Nope. Just naked-adjacent.”
Emily smiled. A little awkwardness was worth five hundred bucks, potentially a grand per week, and bills paid. “As long as my bare ass isn’t flapping in the breeze, count me in.”