Page 9 of Wicked Angel
Even people I met professionally through Danielle’s company.
What the hell was it about me that brought that on?
I turned slowly on my heel and looked at her, sitting there on her leather throne. My sister’s publicist.The queenmaker. In her designer suit with all the trimmings. Her age so hard to peg because of all the fillers in her face. The measure of her soul even harder to get a lock on through the imperious shit-and-sugar metaphors. She was already on her phone, typing.
“Danielle?”
“Hmmm?” she hummed, without looking up.
“I will prove you wrong.”
The silence in the air was so taut, it hurt when I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my heart. I’d never told anyone off in my life. I didn’t even know how to do it.
As much as I wanted to right now.
Her eyes finally lifted to mine. “I hope you do,” she said, her intent neither here nor there. She either meant it or she didn’t believe me at all. Who could say? Danielle Duke wasn’t exactly the most forthcoming, warm or sympathetic person.
She was nothing at all like me.
“One day,” I told her, my voice wobbling a little as I clung to my shredded pride, “I’ll be the queenmaker in this town.”
Then I dashed out the door before she could refute it.
ChapterTwo
Johnny
The windshield wipers beat back the weather, a slow, monotonous thud, as the rain on the glass turned to blood. There was an old rock song playing on the car radio.
And a stranger in the front seat.
I jerked awake.
For a long, dark moment, it felt like someone was in the room with me.
“Shit.” I released the breath I’d been holding in a burst. I sat up in bed, my chest tight, my heart thudding like a wild, spooked animal trapped in a cage.
I swiped my hand over my face as the world took shape around me. Empty.
Safe.
Four walls and a bed, last night’s clothes tossed across a chair in the corner. I was alone, my ragged breathing the only sound.
Dull light crept in at the edges of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the blinds shut tight. I picked up my phone and checked the time. It was just after one in the afternoon.
Squinting into the light of the screen, I thumbed over to the app that controlled the blinds. They slid all the way open across the expansive wall in front of me as I adjusted the slider and blinked into the glaring sunlight.
Then I dropped the phone on the bed and fell back onto the pillow. It felt damp and cold. I’d been sweating in my sleep. I rubbed my face, struggling to wake up fully and get my bearings. I was at home, in my own bedroom, but everything felt off, like it always did when the nightmare invaded my dreams.
I always had the nightmare when something was wrong. When something was bothering me, even if I didn’t know what it was yet.
Maybe it was all the vodka last night. It had been a long fucking time since I’d slept in this late. But then again, I didn’t get home until the sun was coming up. Because—
Brianna.
Fuck.
I ran my hand absently down my body. Naked. Felt like I needed a shower. Did I even take one, when I got home this morning?
