“This is why?” Annalise muttered under her breath. “She is why I’m here?”
“Yes…”
“What, Mistress?” the man breathed.
“Shut up!” Annalise spat.
“Mark him…” Miranda’s voice echoed again.
“No,” Annalise said aloud. “I won’t.”
“Punishment or reward, Annalise… You decide.”
“All you want is her!” Annalise complained aloud. “What about me? I’ve done everything for you! The reward belongs to me!”
“There is enough for you both… Now mark him…”
“Mistress?” the man questioned again.
“I thought I told you to shut up!” Annalise barked, flashing him an angry stare.
“Show him how much we love him…” Miranda demanded. “I promise, you will be rewarded…”
“Damn you…” Annalise muttered. “Goddamn you…”
“I am already damned… As are you… Now do as you were told…”
Annalise huffed out a heavy sigh. She knew she couldn’t truly disobey. If she did, the punishment would come again. She feared that perhaps this time it would be even worse.
Reaching back, she slipped off one of her pumps then turned it in her hand so that she could use the tip of the sharp heel as a stylus.
The tickle returned, spreading out through her stomach, forcing the anger to flee, giving way to pleasure.
Pressing the heel-tip against the man’s bare chest, she pressed down and began to drag it in a languid arc. He yelped at the new pain, tensing just as he had done before.
“Relax, little man,” Annalise whispered. “I’m just showing you how much we love you…”
Tuesday, December 13
8:19 A.M.
Saint Louis, Missouri
CHAPTER 25:
Normalcy had returned. Well, normalcy so far as I could consider my life normal. Several days had passed since Ben’s call about the homicide in Baton Rouge, and I’d heard nothing about it since. In addition, other than my painfully lucid nightmares, which had greatly lessened in frequency, my afflictions were keeping a low profile. I still had a bit of the chronic ache in the back of my skull but nothing like the blinding migraine I had faced before. Since I’d rarely been without the twinge for several years now, it was easy to ignore.
At any rate, Felicity and I had fallen back into our routines, and though we were unable to ignore everything that had happened or that a killer was still at large, we decided not to let it consume our lives as it had in the past. For the time being at least, we were making a go at being just plain average, even if it was in large part a lie. So far, we seemed to be having a relative amount of success on that front, at least as far as the outside world was concerned.
I took a drink of my coffee then glanced up at the clock on the microwave before bringing my gaze back down to my wife. As usual, she was in the middle of dumping what had to be the fourth or fifth heaping spoonful of sugar into her own cup.
“What time is your meeting?” I asked.
“Ten thirty,” she replied. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Well, for one thing, you were out of bed before me, and you’re already dressed. It’s not even half past eight yet.”
“That a problem?” she quipped with a smile, rattling the spoon around the inside of the ceramic mug as she added hazelnut-flavored creamer to the already overly sweetened brew.
“Can’t say that it is. I’m just not used to you being on time, much less early.”
I dropped my eyes back to the newspaper. Most everything on the front page had fallen into the category of depressing, so I was perusing the daily comics in hopes of finding a chuckle or two instead.
“Aye, well I’m not actually there yet,” she said.
“You have a point,” I agreed without looking up.
“By the way, do I look okay?”
“You look great, as usual.”
“Rowan,” she admonished. “You aren’t even looking at me.”
I lowered the paper and gave her a quick glance. She was clad in a dark grey, pinstripe business suit. Her hair was swept up off her shoulders and pinned in place, cascading into a neat fall down her back. It also didn’t escape my notice that she’d seen more than just a cursory visit with her makeup table.
“You look great. Just like you did five minutes ago when you asked me the same thing.”
“I already asked?”
“Uh-huh. Twice actually… This time makes three.”
“But, you’re sure I look okay?”
“Yes,” I told her with a nod then looked back down at the comics. “You look wonderful.”
“I was thinking maybe I should wear a skirt instead of slacks. What do you think?”
“Okay.”
“Well, do you think that would be too much?”
“I don’t know. I guess that would depend on who you’re meeting with and how short the skirt is,” I chuckled.
“I’m serious, Rowan.” She offered the words with a heavy note of exasperation in her voice.
I folded the paper and laid it aside then brought my eyes up to meet hers, giving her my full attention. “All right… What’s up? I’ve never seen you this nervous about work before.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Okay, fine. I’m a little nervous.”
“Why?”
“I’m not usually dealing with the stigma of an arrest and a stay in a psych ward.”
“I don’t understand. You’ve done several jobs since you got home. Why is there a problem now?”
“Those were established accounts who already knew me. This is the first meeting I’ve had to pitch to a potential client since all that happened, you know. It’s different.”
“Yeah, okay. But, I really think you’re getting yourself worked up over nothing, sweetheart,” I reassured her. “You’ll be fine. You always are.”
“I wish I had your confidence about that.”
“Okay, let me ask you this-Did you approach them looking for work or did they call you?”
“They called me.”
“There you go.”
“There I go what?”
“If anything that was in the news about your bogus arrest was going to affect their decision, I doubt they would have even called you in the first place. Obviously it isn’t a factor.”
“Maybe they just haven’t heard about it yet.”
“Only if they were living under a rock.”
She frowned hard. “Thanks a lot.”
“Seriously, Felicity. I really think this is a non-issue.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I know I am.”
