Okay, that’s a depressing thought. Grumbling, she dunked her head beneath the spray and finished washing up. Less than an hour later, she made her way downstairs and unlocked the doors and flipped over the Open sign. She’d exchanged the goddess gown for a pink pencil skirt and matching camisole. She’d chosen the outfit in the hopes the color would banish a fraction of her dismalness. So far, it wasn’t exactly doing a bang-up job.
Clutching the broom she’d fetched from the supply closet, she returned to the bedroom display and swept the scattered glass into a pile, which she promptly chucked into the wastebasket she’d dragged from the kitchen. She hadn’t failed to notice the discarded condom resting on the pile of paper towels in the trash can, mocking her. Tossing the avalanche of broken glass on top of it felt particularly satisfying. Too bad it wasn’t so easy when it came to the situation with the daybed. Tempting as it was to haul it out to the dumpster so she wouldn’t have to look at it and constantly be reminded of her downfall, she couldn’t do it. For one thing, the bed was too damn heavy to move on her own. Not to mention too expensive to relegate to the trash heap, no matter how much the alley cats would appreciate her generosity.
She glanced at the price tag dangling from the corner finial. Maybe she’d mark the damn thing down enough to help get it out the door faster. In the meantime, she’d strip and replace the bedding. It wouldn’t do selling used merchandise.
Without warning, Sam’s sexy baritone whispered through her mind. What kind of saleswoman would you be if you didn’t test out the merchandise?
She swallowed past the dryness in her mouth. Well, they’d certainly tested the springs, for darn sure.
Determined to exorcise this particular demon from her head once and for all, she balled the sheets and coverlet into a makeshift hobo sack and carried them into the rear hallway. Later, she’d take them upstairs to be washed—or better yet, burned. The only thing left to do was collect the throw pillows that she and Sam had knocked to the floor last night.
She rushed back to the scene of the crime just as the chimes dinged through the intercom, announcing the arrival of a potential customer. After calling out to let the customer know she was in the back and available if they needed anything, she stooped and snagged the peach and lime-green floral bolster pillow wedged by the nearest leg of the daybed. The tapping of high heels sounded behind her. Clutching the pillow to her chest, she straightened and turned, priming a welcoming smile. Her mom stood in the doorway.
Surprise washed over Marabella, immediately followed by paranoia and panic. Ridiculous as it was, she swore Domino would be able to immediately detect her devirginized state.
A frown tweaking her brow, Domino scanned the room. “Why does it look like a pillow fight broke out in here?”
“I—I have no idea.”
Domino gave her a hard stare, and Marabella silently groaned. She hugged the pillow tighter. “I mean, yes, I do know. That’d be pretty weird if I didn’t, right? Unless some mischievous elves broke in here with the sole purpose of trashing this room because they’re carrying a personal grudge against French Bohemian style…” Damn, why didn’t I think of that excuse sooner?
Domino’s squint narrowed even more. Just when Marabella’s stomach twisted under the certainty that her mom was seconds away from busting her, Domino sighed and waved her hand. “I don’t have time for this nonsense, Marabella. I stopped by to talk to you about a business proposition, but I’m already running behind.” Domino glanced at the Cartier watch strapped around her wrist.
Renewed shock momentarily stole Marabella’s voice. Shaking her head—and the words loose from her tongue—she gaped at her mom. “A business proposition? For what?”
“The guild has approved the redecorating budget for the reception and conference areas of the Alliance headquarters.”
Oh wow. All of the tense misunderstandings between her and her mom evaporated, and she launched herself at Domino, squeezing her in a bear hug. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Domino cleared her throat pointedly. “You’ll be required to submit a proposal like the other designers invited to bid on the project, of course.”
A smidge of Marabella’s excited happiness withered. Trying not to show her disappointment, she nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to pull any strings for me.” Even if it would have been nice.
Her mom glanced around again, obviously cataloging the décor. “You have an excellent eye for color and style, Marabella. I’m sure that will put you in top running for the job.”
The staggering compliment went a long way in rubbing salve into her wounded pride. “Thank you.”
Domino extracted herself from Marabella’s embrace. “I really must get going. I promised Harley I’d have coffee with him this morning before he heads back to Detroit.”
“Give him a hug goodbye for me.” Hopefully it’d make up for the awkward scene last night at the Samhain ball. Her breath lodged painfully in her esophagus. Oh shit. If Harley mentioned Sam to her mom, it might get Domino’s radar buzzing. Swallowing hard to defeat the queasiness sloshing around in her stomach, she trailed her mom to the exit. “I’m glad you stopped by.”
“Me too.” Domino hesitated before glancing over her shoulder. “Just a word of wisdom, Marabella. Keep those mischievous elves far away from your bed. They appear to be nothing but trouble.”
She gaped at her mother’s retreating back. Hard to say if Domino’s observation had been a rare attempt at humor, or a subtle warning.
Either way, one thing was certain—truer words had never been spoken. Only in her case, sexy, aggravating demons were a million times more dangerous than mischievous elves.
Chapter Eleven
“He looks dead.”
“No. Can’t you see he’s breathing?”
“I said he looks dead. I’ve been around plenty of stiffs to know the difference, Cass. And why is he glowing like that? Is he radioactive or something? Should we be wearing HAZMAT suits?”
“Nik, could you zip it for a minute? I’m trying to think here.”
Sam groaned. Even that much effort was a study in agony. At the moment, he wished with every fiber of his miserable soul that Cass and Nikki would take their arguing elsewhere. Preferably to a planet in another galaxy. If that was even far enough away.
“Sam? Are you awake?” The question came from Cass.
“No,” he croaked.
“Dude, you’ve been out of it for forty-eight hours. You had us worried.” Nikki’s statement broke through his brain fog. Opening his eyes, he blinked groggily at his unwanted visitors. Cousins or no, it was damn disconcerting having a pair of grim reapers camped at his bedside. Particularly considering their earlier conversation.
Then again, with the way he felt, death would be a merciful bitch. “What do you mean I’ve been out of it for two days?” There was no way that could be possible. He never slept that long. Shit, more than six hours was a luxury for him.
Cass must have read the denial in his eyes because she squeezed his shoulder gently. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness that whole time, and mostly delusional. I’m not surprised you can’t remember any of it.”
Delusional? What the fuck did that mean? He’d been drooling and talking to imaginary midgets for two days straight? He slung an arm above his head and groaned. “If this is a side effect of my seal being broken, it sure as hell would have been nice if you’d given me some warning.” Clamping his eyes shut again, he waited for the spinning in his brain to dissipate. Or orbit him into space.