Page 13 of His Haunted Desire

Then, my parents died over Christmas, and that holiday changed forever.

“Anyway, Halloween is my favorite holiday now,” I go on, not wanting to go into my parents’ deaths.

“Why?” he asks.

“I love seeing the kids’ eyes light up when they try on their costumes. I love the sweet treats and the mood of the night itself. The fact people get to dress up and become someone else, get to trulybesomeone else if they believe hard enough. It’s like a magic spell we all agree to cast on ourselves and each other. For a short time… I’m not me. I’m whoever I choose to be.”

I stop, breathless, realizing I’ve gone on a bit of a rant.

“Anyway,” I mutter. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly,” he says gruffly. “It makes total sense.”

“You must love Halloween. With the Retreat and everything.”

He shrugs, his eyes never leaving me. He’s not smirking, nor smiling. He just looks at me with a level of interest that takes me off guard. It’s weirdly gratifying, not that I’ll admit that.

“That’s more of my grandmother’s thing.”

“You don’t attend?”

“I attend, sure, but the festivities of Halloween aren’t why I appreciate it. I like the brutal honesty. Most of the time, people are wearing masks anyway. Three hundred and sixty-five days ofthe year, they wear them. Halloween is just the one where people are honest about it.”

I finish up the measurements, then go to the counter to jot them down.

“I thought you might call me cynical,” he says.

I turn and smile. “I won’t be winning any customer service awards doing that, right?”

When he laughs, it feels like earning something. Which is annoying. I’ve got nothing to prove to this stranger.

“Once I’ve made my markings, I’ll need the suit to make the alterations. It will be ready before the Retreat.”

“Excellent. And that’ll be ten thousand dollars, correct?”

My mouth falls open. I close it before it hits the floor. “No, Mr. Blackwell, that’s not correct.”

“For the entire service,” he says with a smirk.

“It’s not even close to correct.”

He takes a step forward, seeming so tall and imposing when he’s standing close to me. It’s not just his size. It’s his presence. “I’m not talking about the tailoring work.”

“Then you’ve got me at a loss.”

“I have a unique business proposition, and I think you’ll be the perfect candidate.”

“Do you need a costume for the Retreat?”

“I need you for the Retreat,” he says in that husky tone again.

My command is your wish. Like I want him to tell me what to do. Like I want to relinquish responsibility.

“I don’t understand. You need seamstress services at the Annual Grand Masquerade Retreat?”

“I need Aurora services… Wait, that came out wrong.”

“I think you should explain, Mr. Blackwell.”