Page 48

DAHLIA

The plane lifts off the ground, and I press my face against the window in first class as I watch the city shrink to a blur of lights and buildings. A rush of excitement and some nervousness course through my body as I leave the familiar behind and head to my new life.

“May I get you something to drink?” the flight attendant asks.

“I’ll have a glass of red wine.” I smile.

She’s back in a flash and hands me my wine. I sip it, thinking about Travis—another cheater.

One day, I was walking down the street and saw him and the twenty-year-old intern exit a cab and walk into the Waldorf Astoria. I follow them inside and step into the elevator with them. He doesn’t recognize me with my short blonde hair and oversized sunglasses. The doors open. They head down the hall to 2416. He swipes the keycard, and they enter the room. I remember Samantha telling Katherine that her husband started playing cards with the guys every Thursday night after work. She complained how she hated it because he never returned home until after midnight.

The following week, I sneak my way into room 2416 when the maid is in there cleaning and plant a bug. Then, I reserved the room next to it and waited for them. I heard everything: the loud sex and their conversations.

“Are you ever going to leave your wife?” the intern asks.

“Yeah. In time, baby. I just have to get all my financials in order.”

“I hate that we can never go anywhere or do anything in public,” she whines. “I love you and only want to be with you.”

She was in love with his money.

“I love you too, baby. Everything will work out. I promise. You must be patient. Maybe we can go on a trip together—somewhere tropical. Would you like that?”

“Yes. I would love it, Travis.”

“Then I’ll give you the money, and you can book the trip with your credit card. I can’t leave a paper trail for the wife to find. I’ll tell her I’m going on a business trip.”

It's a shame he never made the trip.

Two days later, I discovered that Samantha was going to Connecticut for a couple of days to visit her sister, who was ill in the hospital. Getting into their penthouse was easy. I still had the spare key that Samantha gave Katherine when she stayed there. I walked into the lobby in complete disguise, oversized sunglasses covering my eyes, and stepped right into the elevator, no questions asked.

I waited for Travis to return from work, and when he did, I plunged the knife into his flesh twenty-two times, telling him he was being punished for his sins.

I made a promise to myself that when I arrived in Key West, the killings would have to stop. I was starting a new life and couldn’t risk any more police involvement in my life. Although I am very careful, nobody is perfect.

The plane lands, and a smile dances on my lips as I step off and breathe in the salty air. I take a cab from the airport to the Key West car dealership and pick up my new BMW 8 series convertible in Mineral White Metallic. I punch the address of my new home into the GPS and pull out of the lot. The crystal blue water shimmers in the bright sunlight as palm trees line the streets, and colorful houses remind me I’m in paradise.

I arrive at my new home.

Lifting the latch on the front of the picket fence, I step onto the sidewalk leading up to the house. I insert the key and open the door. I’m in awe of this place. The online photos didn’t do it justice. The house is empty and echoes as I walk through it. I ordered all the new furniture online, and it’s being delivered early this evening.

A knock on the door startles me. Who the hell would be at my door? Walking over to it, I see a woman in her early forties with long, blonde, curly hair standing on my porch, holding a wicker basket.

“Hi.” A bright smile crosses her lips, showing her perfectly bright white teeth. “I’m Kris from next door.” She points. “This is for you. It’s a welcome to the neighborhood gift.” She hands me the basket.

“How sweet. Thank you. Come in. I’m Dahlia.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dahlia. Where are you from?”

I wasn’t about to tell her I was from New York, so I lied.

“Seattle.”

“Oh. What brings you to Key West?”

She’s nosy, and I don’t like it.

“The rain. ”

“Excuse me?” Her face contorts.

“The rain. It rains too much in Seattle. It’s depressing, and I grew sick of it. So, I packed up and moved to the sunny state of Florida to soak up all the Vitamin D.” I smile.

“Well, we do get rain here. But usually for only five or ten minutes at a time. And we do get the occasional hurricane.”

I smile and hope she leaves.

“So, is it just you here? Or you and your husband?”

“Just me. I’m not married.”

“Oh, Kevin will be so disappointed. He always liked talking to the guy who lived here before.”

“Well, maybe I can find a guy and have him over so they can talk.” I smile.

Her brows furrow as she stares at me. She thinks I’m weird, and I like it that way. Maybe she’ll leave me the hell alone from now on.

“Anyway, thanks so much for the lovely welcome basket. I really need to start unpacking.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, I’ll be right next door.”

“Thanks, Kris. I appreciate it.”

She leaves, and I shut and lock the door.

One Month Later

So far, life in Key West has been fantastic. My days are filled with sitting on the beach, dipping my toes in the ocean, reading, swimming in my fabulous in-ground pool, and shopping .

After one of my shopping trips, I stop at Jack Flats on Duval Street for a drink.

“Hey, Dahlia,” Tom, the bartender says. “Whiskey?”

“Yes. Thanks, Tom.” I smile as I perch myself on a stool.

“How about a Cajun chicken sandwich and a side of fries to go with this drink,” he says, setting down my glass.

Before I can answer, I hear a voice next to me.

“She’d love it.”

My gaze drifts to the man standing a few feet away. His striking blue eyes lock onto mine, and I can't help but admire his chiseled jawline and dark, perfectly styled hair. He's dressed in khaki pants that hug his toned legs, and a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. My heart skips a beat as he flashes me an incredible smile, and I can feel my cheeks flush.

“I would, would I?”

“Yes. This place has the best Cajun chicken sandwich on the continent.” He makes himself comfortable on the stool next to me.

“Okay, then. Tom, get me a Cajun chicken sandwich and a side of fries.”

“I’ll have the same,” the man says. He turns and stares at me, his lips curled with the same smile as moments before. “I’m Alex.” He extends his strong-looking hand.

“Dahlia.” I place my small hand in his.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Are you from around here?”

“I am. I just moved to Key West a month ago. You?”

“I just moved here last week.”

“Then how do you know this place has the best Cajun chicken sandwich on the continent?” My brow arches .

“My parents have lived in Key West for the last ten years, and we always come to eat here when I visit.”

“And now you moved here?”

“I did. I’m an English teacher over at the University.”

“And where did you teach prior to moving here?” I ask.

“New York University. After this last winter, I decided to move somewhere warmer without snow.” He flashes a sexy smile, and I can’t help but be turned on.

We talk over whiskey and Cajun chicken sandwiches. He seems like a nice guy and incredibly handsome. He pays for my drinks and meal, takes my phone number, and tells me he’ll call as he walks me to my car. My belly flutters at the thought.

After a few nights of texting, I finally invited Alex over to my place. He boasted about his cooking skills and wanted to make me dinner. "I'll have you over to my house once the renovations are done," he promised.

The doorbell rings, and when I open it, I see Alex juggling three grocery bags.

“Let me take one of those,” I say, grabbing one of the bags.

“Thanks.” He steps inside and sets the bags on the island in the kitchen.

“What can I do to help?” I ask.

“You can cook?”

“Yes, I can cook.” I laugh.

“How good are you with a sharp knife?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. "You have no idea the level of expertise I possess when it comes to wielding a knife." I reach for the wooden block resting on the counter, and my fingers automatically wrap around the handle of the large chef's knife as I remove it from its slot .

Thank you for reading Sins of a Husband.