Prologue

Aja Blue LaLonde, known for being notoriously early for everything from a doctor's appointment to a formal dinner, was running unfashionably late. She grabbed her purse as she rushed out the door of her penthouse condo and smashed the button for the elevator across the hall. Her home was the only one on the floor, so it required a special key for access. The elevator often took a while, and she considered using the stairs, but then the bell chimed, indicating its arrival.

As soon as the doors swished open, Aja Blue stabbed the button for the lobby. Unfortunately, the car that arrived didn't go to the underground parking lot, so she would have to switch to a different one, adding time she didn't have to her commute.

Using the mirrored wall, Aja Blue fastened her hoop earrings and straightened her blouse. Her business, Aja Blue Designs, focused on interior design for corporations like hotels and restaurants. She also had a flourishing furniture and accessory line. Though she'd been considering it for a while, she hadn't yet taken on personal clients until Eleanor Hawthorne Sinclair, wife of Heathcliff Baldwin Sinclair (one of the wealthiest men in the United States—heck, the world), had persuaded her to redecorate their new pool house overlooking Chesapeake Bay. Aja Blue couldn't afford to refuse the price Mrs. Sinclair had quoted. It would cover her payroll for the next year, and that was only from the fee. The amount of money the woman wanted to funnel into the project was jaw-dropping.

Aja Blue cursed under her breath when the elevator slowed and opened a few floors down. A man and woman with three small children shuffled on. Her mouth gaped in horror when tiny hands reached for the buttons, a look of glee on the toddler's face. Thankfully, the father was faster and scooped him up before he could punch each one. Aja Blue might've let a curse word or two slip out had it happened, though she'd learned at an early age to phrase her bad words in a more flowery way.

By the time they reached the lobby, they had stopped on three more floors, and she was in the back of a very crowded cabin, silently fuming, mostly at herself. She never overslept. Today, of all days, she had.

As soon as she slid behind the wheel of her Land Rover, Aja Blue called Mrs. Sinclair to let her know she was running late. During their initial meeting at Aja Blue's office, the woman had practically dropped to her hands and knees, begging Aja Blue to accept her as a client, so she was understanding about the delay. Next, she texted Jay Guitterez, her assistant, to let him know she was on the way. Jay lived five miles away, so it didn't take long. He was waiting for her outside, arms crossed, shoe tapping. His black hair was slicked up in the front, and he wore a navy suit with a light blue tie. He looked professional today.

"Don't tell me Miss Perpetually Punctual overslept," he said in lieu of a greeting as he slid inside.

"I am human, you know."

"Hum." He sniffed. "So you say."

She smiled. Jay might be gruff sometimes, but he was the sweetest, most generous person she knew, and he could always make her laugh. Their sense of humor was compatible, so spending time with him was a joy.

Traffic was horrendous, made even worse by an accident on a bridge across the bay. Aja Blue's nerves—already on edge—sparked like Fourth of July fireworks.

"Oh, lordy, this will take forever," Jay muttered. "But there's nothing we can do about it, so chill, Stressball. Unclench."

Aja Blue cut Jay a look. It was good he was an excellent assistant; otherwise, she might've snapped at him. He wasn't fazed by her past fame or her title as his boss. Jay could be very lippy when he wanted, which was ninety-nine percent of the time, but it was mostly an act. He had the world's biggest heart and would give anyone the shirt off his back if needed. She'd never met a more genuine, caring person in her life.

She inhaled deeply, held her breath, and slowly released it, using the yoga techniques she'd learned years ago. After four more times, she felt relaxed. Jay was right. It wasn't her fault they would be excessively late. Okay, it was a little her fault. If she'd woken up when she was supposed to, they might've avoided the backup caused by the accident.

"So, tell me about this client."

As soon as Jay posed the question, his cell chimed with a text. Aja Blue noticed his hand trembling and his jaw clenching as he read the message.

"What is it?" When he didn't answer, she prompted, "Jay?"

He looked up like he'd forgotten she was there. "Huh?"

She couldn't read his eyes through the tinted sunglasses, but she knew they would be troubled. "Something's bothering you. What was that message?"

He flipped the phone over. "It's nothing."

"Jay," she warned. Aja Blue knew someone—or several someones—had been harassing him lately. After Jay had appeared in a local television commercial and social media push promoting a new nightclub, all the crazies had come out of the woodwork like a swarm of angry bees. She hadn't told him they'd started harassing her, too, for employing him. He was dealing with enough. He didn't need more stress added to his plate.

Jay always brushed off her concern whenever she tried to comfort him like he was doing now. She would not let him get away with it. "Tell me."

"It was simply fan mail." He gave a tight smile. "That's all."

"Okay, then let me read it."

He sighed and rolled his head as if accommodating her was a chore. With a huff, he slapped his phone into her palm. The screen hadn't gone to sleep yet, so she read the message. Aja Blue's jaw firmed.

Die, you skanky faggot piece of shit. I can't wait to see you eat a bullet. Or maybe hang from the end of a high-strung noose, wrapped so tight around your scrawny neck your oxygen is cut off. Your time is coming, freak. Be afraid. Be very afraid. In fact, be terrified.

Now, her hand was shaking but with rage. The message to her had been vanilla compared to the hateful vitriol in that text. "Jay, this is a direct threat."

He scoffed. "It's nothing."

"It is something," she insisted. "Have you gone to the cops?"

He gave her a droll look. "You know I won't do that, Aja Blue."

Jay had developed a significant fear of the authorities after they had arrested him for no reason one night and tossed him in jail, leaving him there over the weekend. He'd been in drag, and the other inmates had made his life miserable. She wasn't exactly sure of what had happened to him, but he'd admitted he hadn't slept for over sixty hours while he'd been behind bars. The charges had been dropped the following Monday morning since they were bogus, but the damage had been done, especially to his psyche.

The ordeal had happened before Aja Blue had met him seven months ago, but his scars ran Grand Canyon deep. It hadn't been his first brush with the law either. They had harassed him before, and she was pretty sure it had been unimaginably terrible. He hadn't shared details, and she'd never pried. Instead, she watched him practically wet himself anytime he spotted a police car.

She placed a hand on his arm. "Jay, I'm worried about you."

"Oh please, Aja Blue, I'll be fine. I always am. You know me. Teflon. Nothing sticks."

Aja Blue gritted her teeth. He was so stubborn. Pushing wouldn't do any good, so she changed the subject. "What are your plans for tonight? We should try that new seafood restaurant on the boardwalk. It's getting rave reviews. The crab cakes are rumored to be the best on the East Coast."

"I'd love to, but I'm highlighting at Crystal Galaxy."

Crystal Galaxy was the nightclub he'd promoted on TV, the one that had caused him so much grief. "Do you think that's wise?"

"Aja Blue, I will not let some homophobic psychos stop me from living my life. I've dealt with them since the day I came out." He waved a breezy hand. "I'll be fine."

Jay had a point. As much as she wanted him to, he couldn't hide. That was no way to live. If he did, the bullies would win. "Who are you tonight?"

"Nice to meet you. I'm Electra Stardust."

Aja Blue laughed as she shook his hand. "That's a good one."

"Thanks. I used an online drag name generator."

"You did not."

"So did."

They continued to chat while sitting in traffic for over an hour until the accident cleaned up. The delay gave them time to catch up on Mrs. Sinclair's project, as well as other business. When she'd hired Jay, she'd planned to take on individual clients since it was his specialty. However, Jay had been helping her with the corporate clients and merchandise line. When Mrs. Sinclair had reached out to her, Aja Blue had known it was the right time to make the foray into personal design.

They were over three hours late when they finally reached the estate. A guard in a blue uniform with a baseball cap stepped out of a booth as she approached a black iron gate. She gave him their names, and he checked his tablet.

"I have you listed as the only visitor, Ms. LaLonde."

"I informed Mrs. Sinclar that I would be bringing my assistant."

"Okay, I see that note here. I'll need both of your driver's licenses."

Aja Blue removed hers from her purse while Jay dug his out of his wallet. The guard took them inside the booth and returned, handing them back. He reached inside the building to activate the gate and motioned them through.

Jay tugged his sunglasses down and leaned forward to peer out the windshield. "My God, this place is incredible. It looks as if it belongs on the coast of Marseille."

"It does," Aja Blue agreed. She rounded the circular driveway and noted three black sedans parked in front of the six-car garage. Instead of infringing on them, she stopped by the stone steps that led to the entry, grabbed her iPad, and slid out. She'd seen pictures of the massive brick and stone French chateau the Sinclairs called home. It'd been featured on television shows and splashed across the pages of several magazines, but they hadn't done it justice. It was magnificent, right down to the perfectly manicured lawn and landscaping.

Mrs. Sinclair had hired Aja Blue Designs to decorate the recently reconstructed pool house. It was a blank canvas, but Aja Blue wanted to tour the mansion to get an idea of Eleanor's taste and her likes and dislikes. It was one thing for Eleanor to tell her how she wanted it designed, but Aja Blue preferred looking at existing décor, colors, and styles to draw a comprehensive picture that would please the client.

"I'm intimidated by even looking at this place," Jay muttered as he approached her side. "I don't understand this kind of wealth."

Aja Blue had been around it her whole life, having grown up in Hollywood, where glitz and glamor were the norm. "They put their pants on one leg at a time like everyone else."

Jay shook his head. "Nah, they have people to do it for them."

Aja Blue chuckled as she jogged up the steps and pushed the lion's head doorbell. A few seconds later, a man in a black suit with a white bow tie appeared.

"I didn't know people still had butlers," Jay whispered.

"Hello. I'm Aja Blue LaLonde, and this is my associate, Jay Guitterez. We have an appointment with Mrs. Sinclair."

The man made a point of glancing at his watch, and she felt duly chastised. "I'm sorry we're late. There was an accident on the bridge."

"Very well. Please, follow me." He spun on his heel.

"Attitude from Alfred," Jay muttered with a roll of his eyes. Aja Blue elbowed him.

As the man led them inside the palatial home, she glimpsed marble floors, crystal chandeliers, soaring ceilings, and expensive artwork. He then guided them to a room that looked straight from the Victorian era.

The focal point was a brick fireplace with a painting mounted above that looked like a genuine Magritte, but she wasn't an expert. The vase on the table held an arrangement of fresh flowers, and roses scented the air. Aja Blue could picture women in petticoats drinking tea and nibbling on finger sandwiches a hundred years earlier.

"Have a seat. Mrs. Sinclair will be with you in a moment. Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Soda?"

"Water," Aja Blue said.

"Same," Jay echoed.

Aja Blue perched on the edge of a tufted red velvet sofa with ornately carved sides and a back made of mahogany, if she had to guess. "Have a seat, Jay."

"Have you seen those spindly legs?" he asked, shaking his head. "That thing won't hold both of us."

"Jay, it's been around for well over a century. I'm reasonably sure it has handled a bigger load than the two of us."

The butler returned pushing a cart, and Jay dropped beside her. The man handed each of them a crystal glass filled with ice water. Then, he placed a three-tiered tray on the tole-painted coffee table. The bottom layer consisted of crustless sandwiches cut into triangles. The next level held scones, while petite round cakes filled the top. Then he placed a steaming pot and a selection of tea bags beside the tray, along with plates and napkins.

"If there is nothing else, Mrs. Sinclair will join you momentarily."

"Thank you."

Jay picked up a finger sandwich, lifted the top, and sniffed. His face puckered. "Smoked salmon and cream cheese. Who would eat this?"

"Ms. LaLonde. Thank you for coming."

Jay yelped and dropped the sandwich as Mrs. Sinclair entered the room. He quickly scooped it up and stuffed it in a pocket, using his shoe to remove any residue on the rug.

Aja Blue stood and shook Mrs. Sinclair's hand. She wore a beige pantsuit with pearls around her neck and matching earrings. Sizeable jewels glittered on her manicured fingers, and Aja Blue had no doubt all were the real deal.

"I apologize for being late, Mrs. Sinclair."

The woman waved her bejeweled hand. "No need. You're here now. That's all that matters."

Aja Blue tapped Jay on the shoulder. "This is my associate, Jay Guitterez. He'll be assisting me in decorating your pool house."

After they exchanged pleasantries, Mrs. Sinclair indicated the sofa. "Have a seat. Can I pour you some tea?"

"No, thank you."

"Help yourselves to some finger sandwiches. My pastry chef whips up the best food on the coast."

Aja Blue obediently reached out but took a scone instead. The taste of fresh strawberries burst on her tongue, and she almost moaned in delight. "This is delicious."

Mrs. Sinclair picked up the teapot and filled a china cup emblazoned with red roses. Steam wafted from the brown liquid as she reached for a sandwich and placed it on her plate. "We were lucky to snag Chef Pierre. He was in high demand. We enticed him from a three-star Michelin restaurant in Paris near the Sorbonne."

Aja Blue didn't even want to think about the salary it would take to lure a man from a job working in a prestigious kitchen to become a personal chef.

"Your house is lovely," Jay told Mrs. Sinclair.

"Why, thank you. We are quite fond of it."

They made small talk while they finished their snacks. The butler appeared as if conjured. He removed the tray of food and used plates. Mrs. Sinclair stood, and they followed suit.

"I'm excited to see the pool house," Aja Blue told her. "However, I would like to tour your home to get an idea of your decorating preferences afterward."

"Of course. That won't be a problem. Follow me, and I'll show you the building."

Aja Blue took in the elegant décor as Mrs. Sinclair led them down a wallpapered hallway covered with a Persian throw rug. Mrs. Sinclair stopped and pressed a button. A set of large gold doors slid open silently, and they followed her into the elevator, which took them down two floors.

A climate-controlled, covered walkway connected the pool house to the main home.

"As you can see, the new structure matches the fa?ade of the house. I'd grown tired of the old one, so we had it torn down and removed."

Though it was technically a pool house, it was bigger than many regular homes. Mrs. Sinclair had told her earlier that it was five thousand square feet. The task in front of Aja Blue seemed daunting. "What are your priorities for the space?"

"I would like it to serve as a guest house when we have overnight company."

As if there weren't enough rooms in the attached twenty-five-thousand-foot freaking mansion.

"I would like it to have at least three bedrooms and baths, a living room with a fireplace, and a full kitchen." Basically, a three-bedroom apartment. "It will also need storage to accommodate my grandchildren's various inflatables and pool toys, along with a shower and changing rooms." She opened the door, and they stepped inside. "As you can see, there are no walls yet. I specifically had the builder hold off until you designed the interior. They are waiting for your blueprints before they do any more construction and add plumbing. They will be at your beck and call."

"I'm flattered you thought of me."

"I checked around. Your references are stellar. You are the best. Your clients are mostly corporate, but that didn't deter me. When I see something I want, I get it."

Well, that was a tad arrogant. "That's very nice of you to say. Jay and I will need to do some measuring and sketching. We'll need a couple of hours."

"Take as much time as you need. I have an appointment in town, so I will be leaving the premises. When you're finished, find George in the kitchen. He's the one who showed you to the sitting room. He'll take care of escorting you out."

Once Mrs. Sinclair left, Aja Blue placed her bag down and walked around the vast interior while Jay took pictures. Several windows took advantage of the spectacular view of the glittering bay and an incredible Olympic-sized swimming pool. Landscaped with towering boulder waterfalls and an arching bridge, the shimmering blue water was an invitation to jump in.

Aja Blue glanced up at the skylights. The ceiling was at least twenty feet high. There was enough room to put in a loft that the Sinclair grandchildren would love, maybe with a slide to get down. She mentally pictured what her design would look like. It would need to be divided into two separate spaces, one with a three-bedroom apartment and the other for typical pool house usage. She would include shower rooms with lockers for storing bathing suits, as well as a washer and dryer or two.

So many thoughts ping-ponged through her head that she needed to write them down. It was incredible to think she had an unlimited budget to bring the project to fruition.

"Good lord, this will be a monster project," Jay muttered.

"Yes, but we're being generously compensated."

"Is it worth it?"

Aja Blue turned to Jay. "Do you not want to work on this with me?"

Jay's brows creased. "I don't know. This place gives me the creeps."

"Why?"

A shudder wracked his body. "I don't know. I can't explain it. It feels sinister."

Before Aja Blue could confront him on his feelings, his phone chimed with a text, and he glanced at it before stuffing it back into his pocket.

"Jay, was that the same person as before?"

He hitched his shoulder. "Probably."

Aja Blue wasn't sure what to do. Jay was usually bubbly and the life of the party. For the last week or so, he'd been subdued. Now he was complaining about his dream job. She had planned on giving him the lead on fixtures, tiles, and lighting but feared his heart wasn't in it. She needed to nail this project. Praise from Eleanor Sinclair held a tremendous amount of weight. This would be a massive coup for her resume.

She glanced at Jay to find him staring off into space. She asked, "Did you get pictures of everything?"

"No."

"We need outside shots too. While you finish that up, I'll look around the main house and get an idea of Mrs. Sinclair's taste."

Aja Blue didn't like leaving Jay, but he acted like he needed to be alone. She didn't want to smother him. Giving him time to himself seemed the best plan.

Aja Blue retraced her steps into the mansion. She looked for George but didn't see him, so she wandered into the sublime great room with a soaring ceiling that looked like one Michelangelo would've loved to personalize. She took pictures of the artwork, furniture, fabric choices, and curtains. Mrs. Sinclair had champagne taste, and why wouldn't she? They could most definitely afford it.

She meandered from room to room, snapping away. Not one item or speck of dust was out of place. As incredible as the furnishings were, the house felt more like a museum than a family home. It seemed like a cold place to live. She couldn't imagine children running around with dirty feet and sticky hands or people gathering in front of the television, drinking beer and cheering for the home team. A rambunctious dog would be a no-no when it might crash into one of the antique tables and knock off a genuine Degas.

Voices snapped her out of her trance, and she realized she'd entered Mr. Sinclair's private office suite. Aja Blue was glad she'd found it since she wanted to get an idea of his taste, too, but she didn't want to intrude. She silently ducked out of sight of the men gathered in the room.

A glance told her that his decorating style was old English hunting club meets Havana cigar bar. Lots of wood, leather, and brass. She would bet that Mr. Sinclair had a say in this room, whereas Mrs. Sinclair's influence had decorated the rest of the mansion.

Aja Blue had to admit she was a little unnerved by being around Mr. Sinclair's personal space. He was on the billionaire list and was usually off building rockets to take wealthy civilians to the moon or constructing skyscrapers bearing his name. He was among the top of the upper echelon of American society but wasn't known for his humanitarian efforts.

As she slunk away from his office, she bumped into Jay and jumped as if she'd been caught doing something naughty. She tried for a casual tone. "Hey, did you get everything we need?"

"I did." He glanced around. "This place is like a mausoleum or something." He shivered. "It's so cold and impersonal."

Though it was the same sentiment she'd had, she chastised him for voicing it. "We don't want the Sinclairs to hear you."

"I'm sure Heath is off blowing his gargantuan fortune on frivolous pursuits."

"Shh," she admonished. "Mr. Sinclair is here now."

"What? No way!"

Aja Blue tugged him down the hallway and into the library. "Do you understand the meaning of ‘shh'?" She scrolled to the picture on her phone and showed him.

Jay snatched it from her and gawked at the screen. "My God, that is Heathcliff Sinclair in the flesh." Jay danced from foot to foot. "He's a living legend." He texted the photo to his phone before handing hers back. "I have to see him in person."

Aja Blue grabbed his arm to stop him when he started out the door. "No, Jay. We don't want to disturb his meeting. He's not listed as the client on our contract. Do I need to remind you that this is a high-profile job?"

"No." He sighed. Then he hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "I need to hit the boy's room, and I passed one back there. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Aja Blue watched him saunter away. Jay was always overly sarcastic, but she detected a note of sadness in him. Whoever was sending him nasty messages was getting to him, whether or not he wanted to admit it. That concerned her.

Jay would hate it, but she might hire bodyguards to protect him. She'd been subjected to them for most of her childhood, and while she resented them, they had kept her safe. Whoever was harassing Jay might think twice if they saw him with a security detail.

This time when Aja Blue entered the kitchen, George was there. He was arranging an enormous bouquet of fragrant flowers in a crystal vase.

"Ms. LaLonde, are you finished?" he asked as he tucked a bright pink Stargazer lily into the mix.

"We are. My associate will be here in a moment. He's using the restroom. I hope that's okay?"

"Perfectly fine. Can I get you something to drink until he returns?"

Outside of dining at a restaurant, she wasn't used to people waiting on her. "No, thank you."

She watched as George arranged the blooms perfectly and carried the vase into the adjoining dining room. When he returned, he cleaned up the remaining stems and leaves, brushing them into the trash. Jay pranced inside, opened his mouth to say something, noticed George, and snapped it closed.

"I'll see you out now," George announced. They followed him through the maze of hallways to the main door. "Mrs. Sinclair mentioned you enjoyed the strawberry scones." He handed her a box that looked as if it had come from a trendy bakery, complete with a kicky gold ribbon. "I had Chef Pierre prepare some for you to take home."

Touched, Aja Blue accepted the gift. Alfred had redeemed himself. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful. These won't last long."

As Aja Blue stepped outside, the bright sun had her reaching for her sunglasses. They descended the steps and slid into her car.

Jay barely waited until her door was closed before he blurted, "I saw him!"

Aja Blue turned to him. "Mr. Sinclair?"

He nodded like a bobblehead doll.

"Did you go looking for him after I told you not to?"

"What? No." He looked offended. "His entourage was passing by when I came out of the bathroom. Don't worry. I refrained from charging out and asking for an autograph, if you were wondering. I slid back inside, and they didn't see me."

"Not that I didn't want them to see you," she assured him. "I didn't want to disturb the man."

"Well, he was left unpestered by little ol' me," he said with a nose in the air.

"Jay, what is up with you?"

He turned to her with a frown. "What do you mean?"

"You're being very caustic. Moreso than usual."

"No, I'm not. You're just excessively touchy. That time of the month?"

She ignored his dig and reminded herself that she was his boss. "I don't know what's up with you, but would you please let me notify the police about the messages?"

"Aja Blue, look. There he is."

She followed his finger-pointing to see Mr. Sinclair emerge from the house via a door different from the one they'd used. He was with a group of men dressed in black suits. Jay was snapping photos when a loud pounding sounded on her window, and she jumped with a scream, slamming her legs into the steering wheel.

"Ow, that hurt." She rubbed her thighs with one hand. The window was deeply tinted, so the man glaring through the glass wouldn't be able to see her until it was lowered. When he lifted a gun and pointed it at her face, she fumbled with the switch to roll it up again, but he ripped the door open. Damn it. The locks would've engaged if she had put the vehicle in gear, barring his entry.

"Oh, my God," Jay whimpered when he saw the gun. "This is not how I want to die! I'm wearing generic white boxers!"

Aja Blue ignored him and focused on the stranger with the weapon. He had spiky silvery hair and mirrored shades. With false bravado, she snapped, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Do you realize you are trespassing on private property?" he barked. "Why are you here? How did you get through the gate? Are you paparazzi? What outlet do you work for?"

"Which question do you want me to respond to first?"

"Take your pick," he growled.

Though she wanted to tell him to shove his questions and gun where the sun didn't shine, she informed him, "Mrs. Sinclair hired us to decorate the new pool house. She invited us, put us on the guest list, and the guard let us inside. We are not trespassing. Does that answer your questions?"

His eyes narrowed, and he lowered the gun. "Hey, aren't you Aja Blue LaLonde, the actress?"

"No, I'm Aja Blue LaLonde, the interior designer. Can I have your name so I can inform Mrs. Sinclair about how you treated us?"

"Get the hell out of here now," he snarled.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, get out. Now."

She didn't have to be told twice . . . except, apparently, she did, since she asked him to repeat the command. Aja Blue jerked the door out of his grip and slammed it. If, say, one of his fingers got in the way, she wouldn't hate it. Sadly, no digits were damaged as she started the car and executed a U-turn around him to leave.

"Well, that was rude," Jay sniffed.

"No kidding," she grumbled. Aja Blue did plan on letting Mrs. Sinclair know about the impolite man. She did not want to run across him and his shiny black revolver again. She shivered.

Traffic across the bridge was better as they drove to the office. Aja Blue had purchased a storefront in Ghent, a trendy, unique, and vibrant neighborhood packed with culture, character, and cuisine. It featured eclectic shops, galleries, antique stores, and eateries.

She currently employed three people besides Jay. Sara Lea answered phones and mail and served as the office manager. Darwin was her information technology specialist and handled her website, social media, and all computer issues. Marla worked with vendors and helped with designs. Aja Blue's workload had increased in the last few months, so she was considering adding a few more staff members to handle the influx.

She parked in her space behind the building and slid outside. She was exhausted after spending all morning at the Sinclair mansion and then the following excitement. Once she checked on things in the office, she planned a hot bath, a tall glass of wine, and a good book, not necessarily in that order.

Alas, it wasn't to be.

Aja Blue's employees were gathered around Sara Lea's desk when she entered with Jay on her heels. "What's up?"

"Take a look at this," Darwin said, pointing to a cardboard box. "It just arrived."

Aja Blue stepped forward and peered inside. Her gut clenched. Someone had altered a Ken doll with garish makeup, flashy clothes, and feathers. If that wasn't disturbing enough, they'd tied a noose around his neck. Jay gasped.

"Who was it addressed to?"

"Aja Blue Designs," Sara Lea answered.

"We need to call the police."

Jay would be upset, but she didn't care. The sicko had stepped up their threats. This needed to be documented. Text messages were one thing. A desecrated doll was next level.

"I'm outtie. See ya." Jay slipped on his glasses and headed for the door.

"Jay, I drove you today," she reminded him.

"I'll call an Uber," he said over his shoulder without turning around.

"Jay, you need to stay and talk to the cops."

Short of hog-tying him to the copy machine—which was tempting—she couldn't stop him from leaving. She jogged outside to see that he had indeed gone, and rather quickly because there was no sign of him.

A headache that had been brewing all day rushed forward as she dealt with the cops. They took the information down but didn't seem to plan on investigating. They mumbled things about workloads, staff shortages, and various other excuses. She'd expected better.

After sending everyone home for the day, she closed the office and drove to her condo. When her cell phone rang, she'd just poured her favorite Pinot Noir into a glass. She didn't recognize the number and almost let it go to voicemail, but after the events of the day, something told her to answer.

"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end, but she could hear breathing, then a dial tone.

Aja Blue took the phone from her ear and stared at it. That was strange. On a hunch, she tapped the number and redialed. She'd been trying to contact her former costar and friend, Polly Deeken, for months but had run into one dead end after another. Polly was sadly under the influence of her domineering boyfriend. Aja Blue had left messages for her everywhere, wanting to make sure she was okay, but Polly had dropped off the face of the earth.

"Aguas Tranquilas Resort and Spa. My name is Inez. How may I help you today?"

"Inez, could you please ring the room for either Polly Deeken or Dirk Haines?"

"Certainly. One moment, please." After a pause, Inez returned. "I'm sorry. I don't have anyone registered under those names."

"What about Starla Hart?"

"Not for that one either."

"Thank you for looking. Can you tell me where you're located?"

"Absolutely. We're in Sedona, Arizona."

Aja Blue thanked her again and disconnected. Had it been Polly reaching out to her? Maybe she was afraid Dirk would overhear, so she disconnected. It could've been a prank call related to the threats Jay had received. Perhaps it was simply a wrong number, and they hung up when they didn't recognize her voice.

Something told her it was Polly.

Making a snap decision, Aja Blue called the airline and booked a flight to Arizona. Then she left messages for Sara Lea and Jay. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do when she'd recently landed a monumental client, but Jay could handle things while she was out of the office for a few days. She had a friend to rescue.