and then the two of them left the room. Again, Ruby thought he should flee, get the hell out of there. He had Liam’s party to get ready for, his usual Saturday night craziness, but he lingered, not wanting this premiere night to end.
“What are you up to now?” she asked in the lengthening silence.
I wish I was up your pussy , he thought. “I am up to nothing,” he said aloud. He wasn’t telling her about Liam’s party and he definitely wasn’t inviting her. But perhaps he could take her for a drink first? What would she say if he asked? The words stuck inside his mouth, reluctant to come out. If he asked, she’d probably say no, which would be really embarrassing.
No, he had to get to Liam’s party and get rid of some of his sexual energy. His new partner was not kinky. One encounter between them and she’d be scarred for life.
“Well, I’m out of here,” he said, heading for the door. ”I’ll see you tomorrow, yes? We’ll do it all over again.”
She smiled at him. Such a pretty smile. Maybe one drink? No. He needed sex, not cocktail hour with a vanilla girl. He was about to leave when the stagehand returned with one more bouquet. This bouquet wasn’t white roses or red roses, or even pink ones. It was dead roses. A bouquet of dead, blackened roses drooping amid dry sprays of baby’s breath. Petra looked at it and gasped.
“What the fuck is that?” Rubio asked the stagehand. “Why are you bringing her that?”
He shrugged and looked at the card. “It was delivered to the theater. For Ms. Petra Hewitt.”
“Take those away,” he ordered. “No, wait.” He grabbed them out of the grunt’s hand and nodded to the door. “Leave. Get out.”
Petra made a soft sound as he set the roses down beside the other two vases. “Why do you talk to people like that?”
“Like what?” he asked, rooting though the dead blooms to find the card.
She plucked it from his fingers before he could open it. “Could you please not read my stuff?”
“Who sent you these?”
They fought over the card. He won and opened the folded paper inside. These roses are as dead as your soul. It wasn’t signed. Ruby turned to her as she read over his shoulder. “You know who this is from?”
“Yes,” she said with a grimace. “I recognize the writing.”
“Because I would like to punch him out. Ex-boyfriend?”
“No, just some guy. He used to write me a lot of fan mail when I danced in New York.” She took the note and stared down at the print. “He’s angry that I moved to London, but really, why should it matter? I don’t even know him.” She bit hard on her lip. “I don’t know what he wants.”
“I know what he wants,” Ruby said. “He wants attention. People see you dance and they think they deserve a part of you. That they own something of you.”
“Yes, maybe that’s it.” She crumpled the offending note into a ball, but before she could throw it away, he pried it from her hand.
“You better keep this. Evidence, for protection order.”
She shook her head. “The police won’t do anything. They say he’s harmless. Just a bit too much of a fan.”
A bit too much of a psycho , Ruby thought darkly. Petra’s eyes darted around the room as she smoothed back her hair. Her hand shook a little. He noticed these things in his partners. Shakes and trembles, signs that balance was off or concentration wavering.
“You should talk to Liam about this.” Ruby crossed to her vanity and picked up a pen, scribbling numbers on the back of a theater memo. “Here’s his number and address. He works in security.”
She ignored the paper when he held it out. “I don’t need security.”
“This person is bothering you, yes?” He pressed it on her until she took it. “He sent you dead roses. This is creepy and inappropriate.”
Ruby could be creepy and inappropriate, but he’d never sent anyone dead roses. And the note... These roses are as dead as your soul. He had his problems with Petra.
“What are you up to now?” she asked in the lengthening silence.
I wish I was up your pussy , he thought. “I am up to nothing,” he said aloud. He wasn’t telling her about Liam’s party and he definitely wasn’t inviting her. But perhaps he could take her for a drink first? What would she say if he asked? The words stuck inside his mouth, reluctant to come out. If he asked, she’d probably say no, which would be really embarrassing.
No, he had to get to Liam’s party and get rid of some of his sexual energy. His new partner was not kinky. One encounter between them and she’d be scarred for life.
“Well, I’m out of here,” he said, heading for the door. ”I’ll see you tomorrow, yes? We’ll do it all over again.”
She smiled at him. Such a pretty smile. Maybe one drink? No. He needed sex, not cocktail hour with a vanilla girl. He was about to leave when the stagehand returned with one more bouquet. This bouquet wasn’t white roses or red roses, or even pink ones. It was dead roses. A bouquet of dead, blackened roses drooping amid dry sprays of baby’s breath. Petra looked at it and gasped.
“What the fuck is that?” Rubio asked the stagehand. “Why are you bringing her that?”
He shrugged and looked at the card. “It was delivered to the theater. For Ms. Petra Hewitt.”
“Take those away,” he ordered. “No, wait.” He grabbed them out of the grunt’s hand and nodded to the door. “Leave. Get out.”
Petra made a soft sound as he set the roses down beside the other two vases. “Why do you talk to people like that?”
“Like what?” he asked, rooting though the dead blooms to find the card.
She plucked it from his fingers before he could open it. “Could you please not read my stuff?”
“Who sent you these?”
They fought over the card. He won and opened the folded paper inside. These roses are as dead as your soul. It wasn’t signed. Ruby turned to her as she read over his shoulder. “You know who this is from?”
“Yes,” she said with a grimace. “I recognize the writing.”
“Because I would like to punch him out. Ex-boyfriend?”
“No, just some guy. He used to write me a lot of fan mail when I danced in New York.” She took the note and stared down at the print. “He’s angry that I moved to London, but really, why should it matter? I don’t even know him.” She bit hard on her lip. “I don’t know what he wants.”
“I know what he wants,” Ruby said. “He wants attention. People see you dance and they think they deserve a part of you. That they own something of you.”
“Yes, maybe that’s it.” She crumpled the offending note into a ball, but before she could throw it away, he pried it from her hand.
“You better keep this. Evidence, for protection order.”
She shook her head. “The police won’t do anything. They say he’s harmless. Just a bit too much of a fan.”
A bit too much of a psycho , Ruby thought darkly. Petra’s eyes darted around the room as she smoothed back her hair. Her hand shook a little. He noticed these things in his partners. Shakes and trembles, signs that balance was off or concentration wavering.
“You should talk to Liam about this.” Ruby crossed to her vanity and picked up a pen, scribbling numbers on the back of a theater memo. “Here’s his number and address. He works in security.”
She ignored the paper when he held it out. “I don’t need security.”
“This person is bothering you, yes?” He pressed it on her until she took it. “He sent you dead roses. This is creepy and inappropriate.”
Ruby could be creepy and inappropriate, but he’d never sent anyone dead roses. And the note... These roses are as dead as your soul. He had his problems with Petra.
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