Chapter 13
13
JOSEPHINE
“ Y ou’ve had a special request.” My mother rips a Post-it off a stack on her desk. It has little spring flowers that border the outside of the paper. She pushes it toward me, along with my morning cup of coffee.
I don’t know if I’ll ever understand my mother. On the outside, she’s perfect. Chin-length dark hair cut in a sophisticated style. Her clothing is a nod to the fifties without being a complete throwback. Her house is decorated just so. And yet, on the inside, she’s an empty shell of a person. Or maybe one filled with hatred and vitriol. I wonder how she ended up this way.
There’s an address scrawled in her elegant script in the middle of the paper. I squint at it in confusion and then blink up at my mother. “This is on the Tenebris side of the river.”
“And?”
“At the Grand Mystic Resort…” I trail off, not wanting to rehash our recent conversation. According to Francesca Delvaux, it’s fine for us to gallivant all over the Tenebris coven territory, but Maiden help the young mother who dares to stop for lunch on the Lumen side of town.
My mother slowly lowers her laptop, closing it with a click. Her fingernails are manicured with a perfect pearly pink. My own nails are short and ravaged by my teeth. “Since when do you question where I tell you to go? This customer had a specific request for your services and paid extra to have you make a house call, as it were.” She waves her hand. Obviously, it’s not a house call at a hotel, but we both know what she means.
I don’t often do massages outside of the spa, but occasionally a customer pays a hefty fee for the service. Honestly, I don’t mind going to help someone who isn’t mobile, but that’s not the reason my mother takes the booking. It’s the money. She can charge extra to send me to meet clients. I hate it. There’s always an inherent risk in going someplace else where a stranger is waiting for me.
Once, when I was eighteen, a client decided he had the right to touch me since I was touching him. I froze at first, but then ran away in a panic. The man called and complained to my mother, who punished me for leaving in the middle of a job. She didn’t care that it hadn’t been safe for me. Despite the punishment, I refused to go on private jobs for several years until she started threatening to send Penelope instead. I backed down.
This address is part of Roman’s hotel, though. The last time I was there, he pinned me to the wall and questioned my intentions. That was before the incidents in the library and the apothecary, though. Before I caved and texted him after googling icebreakers for three hours. I’d like to believe things have changed between us. We've been exchanging messages over the past few days, but talking to someone in person and texting are very different things. Still, even now, my fingers itch to see if I have any texts from him.
If he catches me at the resort, will he freak out or be happy to see me? I’m a little afraid I won’t know what to say to him in person. I’m sure Roman won’t have that problem. He's too suave to be tongue-tied. He certainly didn't have any trouble using his tongue in other ways that night in the library.
“Why are you so flushed? Are you getting sick? Don’t think that will keep you from your appointments. We have paying customers, and I won’t put them off because you’re too stupid to take care of yourself.” My mother has moved onto her phone and is flipping through social media, not even looking at me as she lectures.
“I’m not sick. I just think it’s a bad idea for us to be sneaking into Tenebris territory.”
She slams her phone down on her desk. Her eyes narrow and her chin lifts, giving her the appearance of looking down on me even though she’s sitting. “We of the Lumen coven are not cowed or controlled by the whims of the Tenebris coven. They don’t own the west side of Mystic Hollows.”
I lower my gaze to my clasped hands. “I know. I just don’t want trouble.”
“If you don’t want trouble, then you’ll do what you’re told and get over to that address.”
I nod and turn to leave the room.
“And Josephine.” I stop and look at her over my shoulder. “Do try to fix this.” She circles her face with a grimace. “You look positively sickly. Don’t forget your coffee.” She pushes a to-go cup across her desk.
“Yes, Mother,” I agree and slip out of her office, the scrap of paper clutched in one hand, my coffee in another.
I have just enough time to drive across town and get to the Grand Mystic Resort before my appointment. The address is one of the villas tucked into the densely wooded area surrounding the resort. Ancient oaks flank the paved lane, their bare branches creating a canopy of twisted sticks. The leaves have all fallen off the trees, and the overcast day presents a haunting but beautiful picture as I drive toward the address.
I pull up in front of one of the villas farthest from the resort. It’s so private back here that you can’t see any other signs of life, even though there are other places within walking distance. The house is newer but built to mimic a cottage, only larger. The one-story home has pristine white siding, a front porch with a swing, and an attached garage. The yard is perfectly manicured, with uniformly trimmed bushes and flowerpots that are empty in this cold season.
Who called for me? A name would have been nice.
I park in the driveway and get my massage table out of the trunk with a heave. It’s more awkward than anything, although after I’m drained from healing, it’s always harder to lug around. Another reason I really dislike house calls.
The front door has a half window that’s partially frosted, and I look inside as I ring the bell. A shadow moves on the other side of the door and just before it opens, I know who’s inside.
I take a step back as Roman Blackthorn is revealed in all his dark, handsome glory. He’s wearing a dress shirt and vest, but his jacket is nowhere to be found. I didn’t know that I had a thing for three-piece suits, but dear lord, the look is lethal on Roman Blackthorn. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt are rolled up, revealing bronze forearms that a businessman shouldn’t be sporting. There’s the hint of scars on his arms, but I would never be bold enough to ask about them. I’ve felt the sculpted muscle of Roman’s arms and chest, and there is nothing but lean strength in his body.
The memory of unbuttoning his shirt, desperate for the feel of his warm skin, sends a blast of heat up my neck and cheeks.
Roman’s mouth twitches, and his eyes narrow on my face. “Is there a reason you’re the color of a beet?”
I’ve let people walk over me my entire life. I let my mother, sister, father, all push me around. But there’s something about Roman that makes me want to bite back, to straighten my spine, and not cave.
“Most people say hello when they open the door.”
“I’m not most people.” Roman’s dark brow arches up.
“No, you’re someone who paid my mother for me to come here.” I freeze as soon as the words are out of my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that.
Roman’s mouth snaps shut. He takes a step back and makes a sweeping gesture. “Please come inside, Miss Delvaux.”
I heft the table up on my shoulder, ready to step inside. Roman frowns and takes it from me before I can protest, setting it against the wall. He manages to do it without ever touching me. Is that on purpose?
The interior of the cottage is masculine and yet inviting. The entire place smells like Roman’s spicy scent, and I nearly inhale a deep hit of it before stopping myself. I’m losing my mind.
The house is all open concept. From the entry, I see the living room, kitchen, and a sunroom. There’s a stone fireplace with a large television mounted above. The fire has been turned on and is flickering welcomingly. It’s tempting to grab a pillow off the couch and plop down in front of it with a book and read for hours. Or it would be if Roman Blackthorn weren’t taking up all the space in the room with his mere presence.
“Come sit down.” Roman motions toward an overstuffed leather club chair and then the couch, letting me take my pick.
I settle on the edge of the chair, tucking my hands between my thighs so I don’t fidget.
“Would you like something to drink?” Roman is standing in front of the fireplace a few feet away. Everything about him, his presence, his stature, is overwhelming. His gray gaze is more perceptive than most, and I doubt he misses a thing.
“No. I just… Why am I here?”
Roman nods, but he doesn’t make a move to sit down. What is this about? If he wanted to see me, why didn’t he just send a text? Is he going to threaten me or blackmail me for what we did at the founders party? He’s in for a surprise, if that’s the case. I don’t have anything to give up. Unless he’s looking for healing. Does he want me to heal someone? I’d do it without having to be pressured into it if he just asked.
That’s the thing my mother doesn’t understand either. If someone is sick, it’s worth the pain to help them get better. Most of the customers who come into our spa aren’t struggling with chronic illness. They’re just rich assholes who want a boost from my magic. Many of those who could use my services the most can’t afford the prices to come to our spa. I try to help heal in the community when I can, but I’m often so tapped out that I have nothing left after a day of work.
“There’s something I want to ask you,” Roman says. His voice is deep and full of darkness. It sends a shiver down my spine, but not out of fear.
“What?” The only thing I can think of is work. Does he want to hire me for the Grand Mystic spa? I work for my family. There’s no way my mother will let me quit my job. And I can’t take on more work. I’ll never be able to get out of bed.
“It’s a personal question.” Roman tugs on his vest, straightening it. My eyes widen slightly. Was that a nervous tell? Is he anxious?
I’ve been looking everywhere in the room, taking in the shelves of books, and the small bar in the corner of the room. Is this cottage one the resort rents out, or is this…does Roman live here? I look up and find Roman searching my face like he’s looking for answers.
“Okay,” I murmur, staring straight back at the first man I can touch without pain in years.
“What is your curse, Josephine?”