Torment by Dahlia Kent

Author:Dahlia Kent [Kent, Dahlia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-09-10T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

—

The weekend passed uneventfully.

Robert and I kept to ourselves, although he tried his best to return to my good graces by offering to cook meals. I was relieved when Monday finally arrived. Work would distract me and help me avoid the tension at home.

Sophia was already at the shop reorganizing a clothing rack by the time I arrived. She gave me a tentative smile and a quick wave. Unwilling to say much, I returned her greeting the same way and headed for my workroom.

I got out my patterns and unrolled the coral pink cloth on my cutting table. This latest design was a short sleeved dress with a flared skirt and a portrait neckline.

Fun and flirty, as my client had requested. She was a nice girl in her mid-twenties or so, and one of my rare clients who I still paid home visits because she suffered from agoraphobia.

Sometimes I wondered why she bothered hiring me to make dresses nobody would ever see. It saddened me her illness chained her to her parents’ home and prevented her from seeing the world.

But maybe it was safer that way. Her father was a surgeon and her mother a successful event coordinator. They were wealthy and could afford her any comfort she desired.

She didn’t need to go out in the world where men like Nicholas Vidal existed. Men who would strip her with their eyes, then their hands, then steal her dignity.

Once again, flashes of that night with Nicholas Vidal attacked me. His voice taunted me. His words a whispered chant in time with each snip of the scissors across the cloth.

You will never forget.

A knock on the backroom door startled me. Sophia slipped in, holding a brown paper bag and a cup of coffee.

“I made a wild guess you didn’t eat breakfast.” She raised the contents in her hand. “Am I right or am I right?”

The coffee’s delicious scent as well as freshly baked dough hit me. My stomach grumbled in answer.

“I’m offended by how well you know my bad ways.”

It felt good to genuinely smile. Despite the emotional whirlwind I’d been through these past few days, humour had been completely absent.

I removed my measuring tape from around my neck and laid it down atop the cloth. Then I approached Sophia and took the offered treat from her hands.

“You should take better care of yourself,” said Sophia as I slurped some of the coffee. The hot, bitter liquid energized me the instant it hit my tongue. “You’re not a machine. And even machines need fuel to keep going.”

I smiled. “I don’t need to when you take such good care of me.”

“Only because of personal gain.” She grinned. “If you starve to death, then I’m out of a job, and then I starve to death. Who’s going to feed Stinkbutt when I’m gone?”

I snorted. “I feel sorry for your cat to be saddled with that name.”

“Don’t be. It’s well deserved.” When our shared laughter died away, Sophia’s amusement faded, replaced with nervous fidgeting. “Grace, you’re not… we’re good, right?”

“Of course we are.

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