Page 54 of Unholy Masks

Trish offered me a smile. Irene stopped in front of me, eyes narrowed as she looked at Valentina.

“Who’s this?” she asked. She looked ready to attack me.

“This is Valentina. We are working on a story.”

Valentina gave an awkward little wave, clearly unsure how to respond to Irene, who was glowering at her.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was bored. Enzo went to meet some friends of his. I thought you were his only friend.”

“Enzo has other friends. Shocking, I know.” I laughed when she frowned.

“What does this friend do?” she asked. “Deal with black-market skeletons?”

“No. He owns a club. Have you heard of Onyx?”

“Oh. I knew. Yara likes that place. A lot. So, Enzo’s friends with the owner?”

“Enzo is also the owner of the club,” I said. Both Trish and Irene gaped, staring at each other.

“Are you saying Enzo is rich?”

“Not like Yara rich, but sure. Richer than you and me.”

“Damn,” Irene said. “Guess you hit the jackpot, Trish.”

Trish shook her head, looking red. “I don’t…”

“I’m only kidding, but money is nice,” Irene said, shrugging. “Bye, Ryden. We’re going to Trish’s gallery.”

Laughing, they both walked away.

“Sorry for that. Let’s go.” I motioned for Valentina to follow me to my car. “Can we stop by a florist shop? There’s one on the way. I want to know more about the flower.”

I drove toward Neena’s Garden. I’d seen it a few times but never actually bothered to go in.

In hindsight, maybe I should have grabbed a bouquet before randomly asking Yara to marry me. To set the mood or something. A nice distraction from the fact that I popped the question while we were literally trying to cut a guy’s cock off.

Real smooth, that one, Sinclair, I thought.

The woman behind the counter looked up, her fingers expertly arranging flowers.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked.

“Do you sell gardenias?”

“We do. They are in season now,” she said. “Would you like a bouquet of them?”

“Yes, but,” I said, opening the velvet box and placing the gardenia in front of her. She studied the flower for a second, her eyes narrowed.

“This is august beauty.”

“I learned gardenias symbolize purity,” Valentina said.

“And innocence,” the florist said, examining the flower closely. “This is definitely an august beauty, but something’s off.”

“What do you mean?”