Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(52)

Time she now had for thoughts to push through.

Thoughts about the fact that her stupid, confused, screwed-up mind had tricked her into thinking that playing Cash’s devoted girlfriend meant she actually was Cash’s devoted girlfriend.

Thoughts about the fact that he often told her what to do and where to be, which should serve to remind her of what she truly was.

Thoughts about the fact that she was not now the paid escort of a Totally Loaded, Fabulous, International Hot Guy but she was something different. Something worse. She was servicing him in bed and getting paid for it, in money, food and now exorbitantly expensive clothes.

And lastly, thoughts about the fact that since sometime mid-day Friday, all the way to late morning that Monday, she hadn’t once thought about her dead husband. The man she’d dedicated herself to on their wedding day. Then she’d re-dedicated herself to him on the day she put him in the ground. That day, she vowed she would always, but always, forever and ever, be true to him, no matter what.

She’d never gone a day without thinking of Ben and most days she thought of him dozens of times.

And she’d just gone three, almost three entire days of not thinking about Ben.

Worse, except returning a few texts from Jenny (all of Abby’s responses vague), she was not only avoiding her friend but keeping things from her.

Which meant for the first time in her life, Abby had no one to talk to about her experiences, her troubles and, most importantly, her guilt.

She’d always had Jenny, who as best girlfriends do either happily shared the burden by just listening or gave good advice.

It was then, Abby came to a conclusion.

That Monday afternoon, Abby called Jenny and asked her to come over the next day and help her find a Going-to-a-Haunted-Castle-Outfit. She also promised her friend that they’d talk.

And, Abby decided, they would because this business with Cash was done.

Over.

She would be his pretend girlfriend and she’d be his whore. He’d paid for both.

What she wouldn’t do was forget what she was to him and allow herself to enjoy it.

The first would be even stupider than she normally was and the second made her feel even worse about what she’d become.

So she’d admit to her confused feelings to Jenny and Jenny would help her find strength. Jenny always did.

And Abby would somehow find a way to do what she was being paid to do for Cash but keep herself firmly detached.

As ordered, Abby had been in Cash’s bed that night when he got home late and woke her briefly when he turned her drowsy, pliant body into his warm, hard one.

“You’re home safe,” she’d whispered, soft relief in her voice, not yet steeled against him as she was mostly asleep.

“Yes, love,” he’d murmured, “go back to sleep.”

Immediately cuddling into him, she’d done as she was told.

It was the next morning that they had their gargantuan, knock-down, drag-out, fight.

Something made her wake early. Earlier even than Cash who routinely woke at what Abby considered alarming hours.

Upon waking she realised she was, as she’d made a habit of doing, snuggled into him. This time tucked into his side, head on his shoulder, arm wrapped around his belly.

Unusually, her brain started functioning instantly. She looked at the clock to see it was just before five and she moved carefully away. She got up and went to the bathroom, going about her morning business, even to the point of brushing her teeth, washing her face and showering.

She walked out of the bathroom wearing her new cashmere robe, her wet hair combed back. She was determined to make coffee and be in the kitchen when he descended, ready to make him breakfast before he left for work.

Not be available to him for the activities in which he liked to engage when he woke. Activities she liked too. Activities that might weaken her resolve.

The problem was, when she came out of the bathroom, the light was on and Cash was awake, alert and lying on his side in the bed. He was up on elbow, head resting in his hand, covers down around his waist, his sleek chest in full view and, lastly, his dark eyes were on her. He had that warm, soft expression on his face that he’d shown her the night he’d given her the robes.

Her firm resolve to be Abigail Butler, Skilled but Detached Full-Time Escort and Part-Time Whore slipped a notch at the sight of him and she had to quickly fortify her defences.

“You’re awake,” she announced unnecessarily and he gave her a lazy smile.

At his smile, Abby’s puny defences crashed down in a humiliating heap and she was forced early on to dig into her reserves.

“It looks good on you,” he said instead of commenting on her inane remark.

Abby stopped at the foot of the bed and asked, “Pardon?”

His head dipped toward her but other than that he didn’t move.

However when he spoke, his voice was that deep, throaty, rich that she liked so very much. “The dressing gown, it looks good on you.”

Abby swallowed then replied, “Thank you.”

“Why are you up?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she lied.

“You should have woken me, we could have showered together,” he told her.

At the thought of showering with him (which they’d done on Sunday morning and she’d enjoyed it, like, a lot), she found herself digging even deeper into those reserves. She also found this a little concerning considering their conversation had lasted less than five minutes and she was already losing her willpower.