Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“My client’s not answering any personal questions,” Joseph Cage interjects immediately.
Battlement dismisses him with a flick of his eyes. “Get out in front of this now, Rosalie. You seem like a decent person who got caught up in a world you don’t understand. Let me help you.”
She tilts her head. “You want to help me, Detective? How sweet.”
If she used that tone with me, I’d spank her ass. But right now, I love the sassy side of her. I don’t hide my smile. The detective flips open a file folder and pulls out a photograph to place on the table. It shows Rosalie’s damaged car from the other day.
“Apparently, Mrs. Fairfax beat up your vehicle, Rosalie,” Battlement says. “She had several pictures taken while she damaged your car. I find it odd that you didn’t notify the police about the vandalism. Perhaps you wanted to take care of matters yourself?”
“My client is not answering that question,” Cage says.
Good. I don’t like this at all.
Battlement pulls out another picture. This one is of a harshly beaten Blythe Fairfax, her face a bloody mess. “She kind of looks like your car.”
“This is not necessary.” Cage pushes it back.
“I think it is,” Detective Battlement says. “This is what you did. You may have been in a rage. You may be able to plead some sort of temporary insanity. I don’t know. But you do need to get out in front of this right now, Rosalie. Trust me.”
Warning ticks through me, and I don’t know why. The detective is holding something back.
Rosalie’s eyes widen as she stares at the picture. The murder was brutal. Blythe is beaten, and blood splatters across what looks like a white dress. She’s lying on a sidewalk. Broken.
I don’t care about her but wouldn’t wish a beating like that on any woman. The fact that somebody killed her to frame Rosie or me keeps me cold and centered. “Where did Blythe die?”
“I’m not answering your questions,” the detective says. “Rosalie, let me help you.”
“I didn’t kill Mrs. Fairfax,” Rosalie bursts out.
The detective sighs and pulls out another picture. “Do you recognize this paperweight?”
Holy fuck, I do. It’s the silver one of an apple that is usually on Rosalie’s desk.
Joseph Cage must recognize it as well because he slaps the table. “We’re finished with this interview, Detective. Either arrest my client or leave this house.”
The detective slowly tucks everything back into his file folder and pushes away from the table, standing. His partner does as well. “I’m not ready to make an arrest. Still have a couple avenues to pursue.” He looks deadly serious at Rosalie. “However, I’m going to do so very soon. I suggest you and your attorney come up with a good plan for you to voluntarily surrender at the police department.”
He walks away and pauses by the doorway. “I do like you, Rosalie. I think you’re smart, and I think you still have a future. Maybe not in law. But you’re caught up in a world you just don’t understand. Let me help you.” He finally cuts a look at me. “Mr. Sokolov, I would like to interview you at your earliest convenience.”
I flash him a smile that I hope reads as a warning. “Gee, that’d be fun, Detective, but the last person in the world I want to discuss with you is my wife.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Rosalie
Sitting on my bed, I rub lotion into my arms, waiting for Alexei, who’s still on the phone downstairs arranging a meeting for his people for tomorrow. Ella has long disappeared, and Garik is probably wandering the yard right now looking for threats. I’m wearing a sexy black teddy that I think Alexei will like.
As I wait, my mind spins with mysteries. Who could have possibly taken both my letter opener and paperweight from my office? Unfortunately, it could be anybody from the firm or even a delivery person.
Obviously, somebody wants to set me up.
I worry about Alexei and the internal war going on at Hologrid Hub. He’s already taken two bullets and a knife wound. Of course, he stabbed himself, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. I also wish he hadn’t dropped the bombshell to everybody that we’re married like he had earlier today. I was confronted by seven hurt and quizzical elderly men who only brightened after I promised that we’ll have a big, lavish ceremony and that they’ll all be included in the formalities.
I always figured that when I marry, I’ll have Alana and Ella as my bridesmaids, but now I have two bridesmaids and seven attendants? I’m not even sure what to call them. I don’t think Alexei would consider them groomsmen, but I figure if they’re all wearing tuxes, who cares? I know I’m getting ahead of myself planning this ceremony, but I did take vows. Yeah, that might be a comfort and a cop-out, but I want to see where this thing will go with Alexei. I’ve never felt like this.