I let a tiny Mona Lisa smile play around my lips. I was mysterious and interesting. And bloody uncomfortable sitting in this dress. There was a spot on my back where my bra strap was rubbing against the zip. It was very itchy and very annoying but interesting, mysterious women don’t do contortions in public to give themselves a damn good scratch. I twitched my shoulders but it wasn’t going away. That was okay though. I could saunter my way to the bathroom – drawing attention to myself along the way – and take care of it there.

Nodding my intention to the bartender, I slung my bag over my shoulder, then carefully descended from the stool. The door to the restroom was in the far corner. Perfect: I’d have no choice but to walk past Byron’s table. I flipped my hair over my shoulder again and strutted off.

The Cockney guy who’d approached me before glowered in my direction. This time I gave him a sweet smile, filled with sultry promise. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. Then I tilted up my chin and walked past Byron, the Sidhe girls and his entourage, telling myself that this would be a really bad time to trip and fall flat on my arse.

When I eventually made it to the safety of the bathroom, I immediately found the itchy spot and moaned in satisfaction as I scratched it.

There was a muted flash of light and Bob’s booming voice floating up from my bag. ‘Don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing,’ he said.

I cursed and unzipped the bag. ‘How did you get out?’ I complained. ‘I thought you had to wait until I rubbed the blade.’

Bob thrust his hips forward. ‘Uh Integrity, you can rub my blade any time.’

Oh for Pete’s sake. I started to zip the bag closed again but he made a good show of protesting. ‘Oh come on! That’s not fair! Until you take all three wishes, I can appear whenever I want to, okay?’

That certainly didn’t sound right. ‘I thought I was your owner.’

‘You are! But if you’re going to keep ignoring what a wonderful opportunity you have with these wishes, then I’m going to keep appearing to remind you of what you’ve got.’

‘Until I give you back to the guy who owned you originally,’ I said shortly.

A crafty expression crossed Bob’s face. He held up his miniscule index finger and gave me a shit-eating grin. ‘He never cleaned the dagger. I never appeared to him.’

‘So?’ I asked sourly.