Chapter Twenty-three

Take a Chill Pill

RILEY

The gated community where Mrs. Princeton and her family lived was one of the most exclusive residential neighborhoods in Salem. Made entirely of lush mansions with perfectly landscaped front yards and an array of luxury cars parked in the driveways that could rival a sheik.

Riley flashed his badge to the security guard manning the entrance, eager to get out of the car and put a healthy distance between himself and Mila Bennet. The few scrawny inches currently separating them in the car would not cut it.

This morning, she’d chosen to torture him with a fluffy, purple-and-black striped sweater wool dress that made her look totally huggable. He wanted to bury his face in that dress. Pull it over her head and uncover the marvels underneath.

The need was so strong he had to clutch the wheel harder to stop himself from doing something incredibly stupid.

In the meantime, the security guard had taken one look at Riley’s badge and waved them past the gate. At its very foundation, The Department of Magical Justice was enchanted to confound humans. The protective thrall was needed for its agent to conduct investigations in the human world without kicking up a fuss or causing raised eyebrows among humans. It was a necessary protective charm essential to guarantee seamless cooperation and coexistence between the magical law enforcement agencies and the regular human ones.

Riley took his badge back, rolled up the window, and drove on until they reached the cul-de-sac at the end of the community.

Mrs. Princeton’s house was easily the most opulent in the entire neighborhood, surely the most extravagantly decorated for Christmas, with a real-life-sized illuminated sleigh in the front yard, pulled by a full battery of six reindeer. Fairy lights dotted the entire surface of the house’s external walls.

The lights were glittering in a rainbow of colors even now that it was broad daylight.

Riley got out of the car and waited for Mila—not getting the door for her. If she didn’t want him to open doors for her, she was entitled to renounce the gallantry.

As they walked up the driveway of the flashy mansion, Mila stared at the extravagant décor of the house, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. “How much do you think their electricity bill comes to?”

Riley suppressed a smile. “I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure they’re at least five percent responsible for global warming.”

Mila looked up at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement from under her long lashes. Riley had to shove his hands into his pocket not to reach over and tuck a loose curl of that impossibly long, impossibly silky hair behind her ear.

It would be ages, possibly forever, before he forgot how her hair had felt tangled in his fingers as they kissed.

Mila must’ve sensed his thoughts had shifted away from electrical fixtures and degenerated into something entirely different because she cleared her throat and looked away from him.

And he was acting like a troll again.

Riley quickened his stride and reached the front door two steps ahead of Mila, ringing the bell. Maybe discussing the attempted murder of Mrs. Blackwell with a suspect would help him take a chill pill.