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As soon as Paulo runs out of energy.
Which could be hours, since he’d been the Energizer Bunny in a previous life. The last time I’d suggested knocking off early, he’d stared at me in shock, gripped his glue gun tighter, and informed me there was no rest for the wicked. Did he think I wasn’t already aware of that? I was as wicked as they came, which was why I’d brought tranquillisers with me—only mild ones, enough to make him sleepy.
Alex
Need a ride?
Of course I did. That was the whole reason I’d come to Virginia. Although my relationship with Alex was about more than sex. I’d worked out that the weird lightheadedness I felt around him wasn’t a problem with my blood pressure; it was love. Friendship and fate were involved too, and even though I hated the way he unsettled me, he was an addiction I couldn’t quit. Ana—whose life had been twined with mine thanks to the monster who created us—said I deserved happiness. But I had a secret fear that karma was just playing a sick joke, giving me a glimpse of heaven before she drop-kicked me back into hell where I belonged.
Me
I’ll meet you in the hotel parking lot no later than 20:00.
I did have access to transport in Virginia—I could borrow a Blackwood pool car or use one of Ana’s vehicles—but that would lead to questions from Paulo. Which meant taking a cab to the Black Diamond Hotel, where Emmy had provided us with two standard rooms, and letting Alex play chauffeur.
Alex
Can’t you ditch Paulo any earlier?
I would certainly try. It all depended on whether the kitchen fitters Emmy had provided decided to work late. I didn’t need them asking questions if Paulo went from hyper to hibernation in the time it took him to drink a mug of coffee.
Me
As long as there are no witnesses.
Alex
Need a hand?
Coming from anyone else, the question would have been insulting and the answer easy. But Alex wasn’t trying for one-upmanship. He simply wanted me naked and in his bed, which meant that in at least one respect, our goals were perfectly aligned.
Me
Sure.
* * *
“Ohmigosh!”
“What?” I asked Paulo, trying to sound vaguely interested. “Ohmigosh” could mean anything from a missing diamanté on his purse to a nuclear explosion off the coast of California.
“Bradley just texted, and did you know it’s National Pancake Day?”
Pancakes had a fucking day? Was he serious? “Can’t say I did, hun.”
“He knows this fabulous pancake restaurant, and he’s inviting us to go with him and some friends.” Paulo glanced up from his phone, eyes pleading. “How late are we working tonight? He says the strawberry daiquiris are to die for.”
This was Alex’s plan? Enlisting Bradley to stuff Paulo with cocktails and carbs? Hmm, it had potential—Paulo was incapable of stopping at just one drink.
“I want to check through the inventory that’s arrived so far, but why don’t you go for pancakes with Bradley?”
“You shouldn’t miss out on the fun. That wouldn’t be fair.”
“I’d just cramp your style, hun, and you know I don’t touch alcohol.”
Darla was a gosh-darned saint. Me? I had a taste for top-shelf horilka and the self-control not to overdo it.
“Oh, I couldn’t…” But Paulo really, really wanted to. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
