Free Death of a Chorus Girl (The Delacroix Series Book 1) by P. M. Briede

at Richard. “I apologize, Detective Giordano , for interrupting whatever this is.”  The apology complete, Tom spins on his heel and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
    I press my fingers to my temple and take a moment to gather my thoughts.  Richard’s hands on my shoulders jolts me out of them and I twirl around to face him.  ““I assume since one of your demands was for him not to call his lawyer that he’s threatened to?”  My hands find his elbows as I confirm Tom has.  “His lawyer can call all day long.  Your statement will end my career.  Is that something I need to worry about?”  His hands make their way to my waist, and I want nothing more than to close the distance between us, reach up on my tiptoes, and meet his lips with mine.  “Em?”
    Right, I haven’t answered him.  “No, I don’t believe you’ve done anything undesirable.”  Except resist me.
    “Is there anything else you desire of me?” his husky voice begs.
    God, how about everything ?  My eyes dart to the loveseat as the image of a man on top of me, kissing me until I can’t think straight while his pelvis makes demands against my own, overtakes my thoughts.  I don’t know who the couple was who partook in that romantic interlude, but I know whose face I’ve put on the man from my vision.  Thankfully, I have locked my knees so even though they weaken I don’t crumble.  “No.  Not at the moment.”
    I remove my eyes from the blasted loveseat that will forever serve as a reminder of a memory I hope can be of a future with Richard.  A knowing smile toys with his mouth as his gaze follows mine.  “That’s too bad.  When do you have to leave with him?” he asks as he brings his focus back to me.
    “Honestly, I don’t know.  What time is it?”  This dress, while having the desired effect of making his jaw drop when he first saw me, serves no other practical purposes.  There are no pockets in it and I don’t own a watch.
    Richard fishes through his jacket and pulls out his cell phone.  “Looks to be about six.”
    “Evening shows typically start around eight.  Tom needs to be there by seven.  I imagine we need to leave here no later than six-thirty.”
    “But you don’t need to be there that early.  I have a few more questions and you did say you wanted this part of our interactions behind us, right?”  There is that devilish twinkle again.  “I’ll make sure you get to the theatre safe and on time.  It might be just in time.”
    As much as I want to take Richard up on his offer, I have to wonder if it is worth the risk.  I place our futures squarely in fate’s hands by going to the door and poking my head outside.  “Tom, we aren’t quite done.  We’ll probably be another half hour, maybe longer.  I’m sure you stopped by to see about grabbing a bite.  If you want, go on ahead and I’ll meet you there before curtains up.”
    “How are you going to get there, Em?” Tom asks in a reproachful tone.
    “The detective offered to drive me.”
    I don’t even finish the sentence before Tom pronounces, “I’ll wait,” then crosses his arms over his chest as if daring me to kick him out.  Well, there is my answer and it is probably for the best.
    I close the door, return to the loveseat, and sit as far from Richard as possible.  For some odd reason he looks the most at ease I’ve ever seen him.  He lounges on the loveseat with one arm stretched across the back. “You’re a bit further away now,” he observes in his deep, husky voice.
    Electricity fires between us. I inhale and exhale slowly before continuing.  “Your questions, Richard,” I say, steering us back on course.
    His arm drifts down the cushions and captures the hand I left in the space between us.  He interweaves our fingers while simultaneously fondling mine, sending shock waves from my fingers to my toes.  “Do I need you to spell out the activities Tom partakes in or do you think I’m savvy enough