Rami grabbed our recovery drinks from the fridge in the corner and tossed one to me. “So is the deal off?”

“I think it’s still on. But I need to apologize.”

“So call her.”

She didn’t seem like a phone call kind of girl. I tried to imagine apologizing on the phone and it didn’t end well. “It needs to be better than that. Can you take a box to her at the dungeon later?”

“I’m not your errand boy, Alex. I’m your entertainment attorney. I’m not going back to the stupid dungeon for you.”

“Yeah, and last I checked, you were also my oldest friend. Please. I’ll lower myself to asking nicely if I have to, but there’s no one else I can ask to do this and I need her not to bail because I was an asshole.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “But you’re going to look like a giant pussy for groveling.”

“Oh don’t worry. It’s not all groveling. I think I know how to get her to see me again even if it’s to destroy me.”

“Text me when you have the stupid box ready. But I’m telling you when I go in, and if I haven’t checked in within twenty minutes of that to let you know I’m out, then assume they’ve taken me hostage and send reinforcements.”

“As though it would be so terrible…” I swatted his ass with the towel I was holding.

“I don’t know what kind of shit you’re into, but I’m not fond of the idea. Ophelia was bad enough in a legal capacity. I don’t need to know what she’s like clad in leather with a whip in her hand.”

“For not wanting to know, it sure sounds like you’ve got a specific image of her in mind…”

I smiled, but I wasn’t picturing Ophelia. I was picturing the look on Elena’s face when she saw my “apology gift.” She’d have that glint in her eyes that promised retribution…the one I was far too eager to see again.

9

Elena

I sat in Victoria’s elegantly decorated office in front of what Ophelia was calling our Murder Board. It was more accurately a representation of all of my clients for the next month: who they were being reassigned to, whether they’d been notified, the status of prep for their appointments, and what notes I needed to give to my substitutes. There were side columns for my mentoring duties and classes I was supposed to be teaching.

Seeing all of it laid out like this was disconcerting. How did I do all of this in a month normally?

Victoria was taking point on notifying clients and handling reassigning or rescheduling them. It wouldn’t be a pleasant job. Some of them had been seeing me multiple times a week for years and got upset if my nail polish was the wrong color. Being told they’d have to see someone new who would approach their fantasy a little differently would be deeply distressing.