Page 80 of My Dark Prince
“Is that in the King James Version or the New American?”
“What’s the first thing Eve does? Eats that apple.Boom.” She snapped her fingers. “She ignored Adam’s request.”
“It was God’s request.” I bounced her napping son against my chest, wondering if he could absorb any of this conversationin his sleep. “And the outcome was pretty horrible. All of mankind banished from Heaven.”
“What are you? A pastor?” Dallas sipped her Frappuccino, drumming her almond nails over the Starbucks cup. “Girlie wanted a snack, and she practiced self-care.”
I blinked. I wasn’t sure I was on board with her version of things. I didn’t remember any of this from the religious history courses I’d taken at Surval Montreaux, but Dallashadgrown up in the heart of the Bible Belt.
Dal shook her head, continuing her search for the clamps. “Point is, Ollie needs to be reminded that you are your own person. He can’t lock you in that place like a fairytale princess.”
She had a point.
And I had every intention of broaching that subject with Oliver as soon as I gained back a memory. Just one. Any memory would do. Every time I concentrated on the past, my headaches returned in full force. I’d begun to feel hopeless.
Hettie, the Costa personal chef, paraded into the kitchen with two bags full of groceries. “I told you guys I’d be back fast.”
Dallas clapped her hands, sprinting to Hettie’s side. “What’d you get?”
“I snagged fresh crawfish from Cracking Claws.” Hettie tied up her purple hair into a top bun, slipping an apron over her tatted neck. “It’s Viet Cajun for dinner tonight. I got Andouille, too.”
“Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Dallas spun to me for a moment before flipping open the oven and peering inside for her sex toy. “How do you like your sausages, Briar?”
“On the pig they belong to.” I patted Luca’s back, sauntering between the kitchen and the living room. “I’m a vegetarian.”
Wasn’t it weird that literallynobodyin my life remembered that?
“Of course, you are. Now I remember.” Hettie blew a lock of hair from her face, popped open the bread box, and retrieved the nipple clamps, passing them over to her employer. “Bingo.”
Dallas pocketed the clamps in her dress. “You’re a saint.”
Hettie turned to me. “What can I make you?”
“For a snack?” I scratched my temple. “I mean … Ritz crackers and peanut butter sounds great.”
Hettie and Dallas exchanged worried looks, as if I’d asked to eat the head of the very baby I cradled.
“She’s a work in progress,” Dallas excused my apparently abhorrent choice. “So. Briar. I did some research about amnesia and how to help you regain your memory.”
I nibbled on my lower lip. “You did?”
I didn’t know whether to be excited or nervous. Dallas seemed full of good intentions and bad decisions.
“Does Googling count? Because if so, yes, I absolutely did.” Dal collapsed onto an island stool, flipping open a notepad. “I’m going to ask you questions, and it’s going to give your brain a ‘workout,’ so to speak.”
She grinned. She was beautiful in an old Hollywood way. With voluminous chestnut hair, pale green eyes, and a designer dress most would consider too formal to wear at a wedding, let alone at home.
I nodded. “I’ll try my best.”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Easy. Blue.” Always blue. Ever since I was a kid. I smiled. “The color of the roses Ollie gives me every day.”
“Where’d you go to school?”
I rattled off the dozen or so schools I’d bounced around at across the world, following up her next questions with ease. My parents’ names and occupation. The places I’d lived in and vacationed at. The names of famous figures. Some of the pranks Ollie dragged me into.
When we crawled to my adulthood, I started to struggle.
