Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 732(@200wpm)___ 586(@250wpm)___ 488(@300wpm)
Izzy narrows it down to three different looks and stands back, surveying her work. “Hmmmm,” she muses, glancing at the outfits before looking back at me. “I can’t choose. All three would work for you. What do you think?”
Oh, hell no. She should know better than to ask my opinion on this. I’m far too casual to know anything about what occasions require which outfits. If I had it my way, I’d be leaving my apartment in a pair of jeans, my Nirvana tee, and my hair thrown up into a messy bun. Maybe I would have gone the extra mile and left my hair down for a change, but it’s not likely.
A sudden wave of nerves settles over me, and I gaze at the three outfits, trying to see if any of them scream out at me. The first is a plain black jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, dressed up with heels and an abundance of dainty gold necklaces. Next up is a sleeveless, fitted crop top with cutouts at the waist and a matching high-waisted, wide-leg pant that gives sexy CEO vibes, and then finally, a black silk cami paired with a high-waisted leather pencil skirt that snatches the waist.
“Honestly, I’m leaning toward option two or three,” I tell her. “Sexy CEO or flirty receptionist.”
Izzy glances back at the outfits before she snorts out a laugh. “Oh shit. You’re right,” she mumbles before glancing back at me. “How were you planning on doing your hair?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe a slicked-back ponytail.”
“Yes!” she gasps. “In that case, you have to go with sexy CEO. That long, black hair up in a high pony, along with siren eyes, will have everyone eating out of the palm of your hand. Not to mention, your mother won’t know what hit her. The second she even tries to claim you’re a disappointment, people will laugh her away.”
Fuck yes. I’ve been waiting twenty-eight years to render my mother speechless.
“Alright,” Iz continues. “Let’s get you ready, and while you wash that bird’s nest on top of your head, you can tell me why the hell you’re still in your pajamas at four in the afternoon.”
Ahhhh. Fuck.
Ten minutes later, I’m lathering shampoo into my hair while Izzy sits across my bathroom, slouched on the closed toilet with her feet propped up on the vanity. It doesn’t look comfortable in the slightest, but Izzy has a gift for finding comfort in the weirdest places.
She’s on her phone scrolling through social media as I rattle off the details of my night—or lack thereof. I tell her how Laith was supposed to come over but bailed after I left work early. When her face scrunches, I realize my mistake.
“Wait. Wait. Wait,” Izzy cuts in, sitting up straighter and dropping her feet off the vanity. “What do you mean you left work early? You haven’t left work early . . . ever. Were you sick? Dying? A bad case of the runs?”
Crap.
My face scrunches, and she sure as fuck doesn’t miss it. “Spill it, Harper’s Bazaar. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Shit. Okay. Ummm,” I start, unable to keep the cringe off my face as I try to figure out just how many details I’m going to tell her about my brand-new black-rose gifter. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”
She scoffs. “I already think you’re insane.”
“I know, but now you’ll really think I’m insane.”
Izzy’s brows furrow, and she leans forward, bracing her elbows on her knees as she focuses intently on my face. “What the hell is going on?”
I cringe again. “Okay, so it was just me at work last night. I’d finished my autopsy and was writing up the report when I got this gut feeling that I was being watched. Like, it was full on. I’m talking my blood ran cold, and I had goosebumps all over my skin. I was freaked out, and as you know, it takes a lot to rattle me. I looked around and couldn’t see anything, but I couldn’t shake the feeling.”
Izzy gapes at me. “You realize you work in a morgue, right? You’re constantly surrounded by dead bodies, messing with their corpses and cracking open their chests. It was only a matter of time before you pissed off the spirit world.”
“Ghosts? Really? You’re trying to tell me I was being haunted by a ghost?”
“No. Not a ghost. A spirit.”
A smirk pulls across my lips. “Look who’s insane now,” I tell her as I make the conscious decision not to tell her about the rose I found on the autopsy table. She’ll think it’s all in my head anyway. I don’t need her worrying about my sanity, at least for now. If something else happens, something significant, then sure, I’ll let her know then.
Izzy rolls her eyes. “Alright then, Dr. Genius. If it wasn’t a ghost or a spirit, which is clearly the obvious answer, then who or what the hell was it?”