Page 3 of Criminally Yours

Rylee: Then don’t. Sprint home and read the new soldier romance you were telling me about. I’ve got a why choose romance on the go, and the college hockey player is about to do something dirty on camera. I love it.

Millie’s shoulders relaxed.

Rylee: What would you tell your counselling clients if they avoided socials?

Millie: That everything is worth a try. But they glare at me when I say shit like that.

Rylee: Channel your lovely welcoming personality, and add a side of seductress, and if all else fails, listen to their problems. People love that.

Millie: Thanks for the pep talk. Here goes nothing.

Rylee: And remember, you can be home chatting with me while reading in two hours. You can do this. Make sure you have your ID.

At least she could say she’d tried when her older brother called to check on her as per their mum’s instructions.

She pressed the heart emoji and stashed her phone in her bag.

She grabbed her purse again, even though she’d checked it for her ID three times already.

Towering buildings loomed above her.

She shook her limbs again and sprung up and down a couple of times, loosening all her muscles. It was a weird technique for relieving anxiety, but the jumping often helped.Her purse flew out of her hand and dropped behind the huge bin.

As she ran behind it, angry voices rose in the middle of the side street.

She ducked down and gripped her bag tighter, searching for her purse. Keeping her life online meant she didn’t need to deal with aggressive people.

She’d wait out the argument rather than get involved with a couple of grunting drunk guys.

Millie peeked out from behind the bin.

A black-haired guy shoved a blond guy up against the wall. He was familiar, and he resembled a Hollywood actor who always played the bad guy. She couldn’t catch their words.

She knelt on the ground, scrabbling in the rubbish for her purse.

Nothing said sexy siren like arriving at the mingle smelling like thirty-day-old fish.

I’ll break my ten-year celibacy spell within seconds.

“All I’ve got to do is meet that reporter, and your dad’s career’s ruined,” the blond rasped as the one resembling the Hollywood star pinned him.

Mr. Hollywood, handsome but dangerously stylish, poked him in the face as he sneered. “I’m not giving you any more money, you piece of shit. Don’t threaten me. You don’t know what my dad is capable of.”

He grabbed him by his collar and slammed him into the wall again.

Millie gulped as he shoved his elbow against the other man’s neck. His hands shook violently, adding to his menace.

“Daddy isn’t going to be happy with you, Hugo. The paparazzi will lose it when they know the truth,” the blond guy said with a choked laugh.

Millie committed their faces to memory.

There was something more put-together about Hugo, akaMr Hollywood. Maybe it was his tailored black trousers or the fit of his shirt. The light barely beaming into the dark alley shone off his expensive leather shoes.

She couldn’t stop the fight safely, but she could call the police. They wouldn’t get here quickly enough, though. There was a protest on the other side of town. Not only was the protest snarling traffic, but most of the police would be staffing it.

And even if she did call them, what if the guy denied everything? She should film it and take the evidence to the police station.

She mouthed one of her life’s mantras:Stay quiet, hidden, and out of the way.