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Angela screamed in frustration, tossing her make-up into the sink. Trying to cover the bruise left by Roman’s very talented mouth was useless.
She was filled with regret. “So much regret. All the regret,” she told her reflection.
The pleasure had been just as he promised. So good it transcended from pleasure to pain—in the best way possible. It wasn’t the orgasms that had her mourning the previous night. It was the way she had melted against him afterwards. The way she had fallen asleep against his chest as he stayed fully clothed, running a soothing hand up and down her back. He’d left sometime in the night, tucking her in warmly with one of her fuzzy blankets. She slept soundly until her alarm had gone off for work just an hour before.
She’d spent five minutes attempting to camouflage the half-hickey, half-bite on her neck before she spotted the happy smile on her face in the mirror, along with the dreamy, glazed look in her eyes. And that was something she couldn’t accept. So, she called Roman immediately, setting stronger boundaries for their relationship. His easy acceptance proved she had done the right thing. She couldn’t afford to fall for the likes of Roman. Which meant no more altruistic head jobs from the man. His ready agreement to the rules annoyed her a little, but it was for the best. What wasn’t for the best was a sex bruise that couldn’t be covered.
Sighing, she moved to her closet, hunting for something that would cover it. It wasn’t winter, but it was a cool enough fall day that a turtleneck sweater wouldn’t be questioned. She pulled the soft blue fabric over her head quickly, casting a critical eye over herself in the mirror. The mark was covered, but it still tingled, reminding her of how it came about.
“Damnit!” she groused. She scowled at her reflection, telling herself to get the satisfied look off her face, and grabbed her things. She had one hour to spend at Lighthouse before her twelve-hour shift at the hospital.
Within twenty minutes, she was there, and she was pleased to see the construction crew working away on the roof. Roman’s money was being put to good use. She walked inside, looking for Sister Pip, but noticed a familiar face instead. Morrigan. Angela hadn’t had much to do with the woman. She knew who she was—she worked for Roman and was a relative of some kind—but that was about it. She had never spoken to her.
“Morrigan?” Angela called out as she hurried over. “It is Morrigan, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” the other woman replied, looking her over critically.
Angela waited for her to say something else, but when the silence stretched out, becoming awkward as hell, she cleared her throat. “Can I help you with something?”
“Nope. I’ve seen this place from the outside often enough. But I’ve never been inside. It’s bigger than I expected,” she said, looking around.
Angela frowned. “What do you mean?”
Morrigan’s dark eyes met Angela’s. “I saw lots of things from the outside thanks to me following you around like I did for the past couple of months.”
That gave Angela pause. “Wait... you’ve been following me around?”
“Duh. Do you think Abel’s tiny little brain could stay focused endlessly?” She scoffed. “Not likely. I had the nights, and he took the days.”
Angela clenched her jaw, feeling annoyed and frustrated. She hadn’t even noticed the other woman. Not once. “I didn’t see you.”
“That was kind of the point,” Morrigan informed her drolly.
“I saw Abel plenty of times,” Angela pointed out.
Morrigan waved the comment away. “Pfft. That’s because he’s a loser. I’m much better at my job.”
Angela fought back the urge to defend Abel, asking instead, “And what job is that, exactly?”
“Assassin.”
It was stated so boldly that Angela knew it was the truth. She looked around, making sure they were still alone. “Shh. Please lower your voice.”
“Why? I’m not ashamed of who I am. Are you?” Morrigan challenged.
“Ashamed of you? Absolutely,” Angela said quickly.
“That’s not what I meant. But... good one,” Morrigan allowed, her mouth curving up a little.
“I’m glad you approve of my humor,” Angela said dryly. “Why are you here? Is someone hurt?”
“There’s always someone hurt, Doc. You should know that better than most,” Morrigan muttered, looking Angela over from head to foot once more. “But if you must know, I’m here to check on Roman’s investment.”
Angela had a feeling there was a double meaning there, but she didn’t have the patience to figure it out. “The place is coming along nicely, don’t you think?”
Morrigan screwed up her nose, looking around the old building in distaste. “If you say so. It looks like a pit to me.”
“This pit is saving lives, I promise you.” Sister Philomena’s voice sounded amused as well as gently chastising.
