Master of the Opera, Act 4: Dark Interlude Read Free Page A

fiancée. I thought it wasn’t even a question—and that you’d be grateful for the protection.”
    “I . . . see.” Wow. None of this had occurred to her. She’d been with Matt all afternoon when Carla was abducted and hurt. And Tara had disappeared before she arrived. “What kind of trouble am I in—what did the lawyers say?”
    “I can’t really tell you that.” He made a regretful face. “They’re most insistent that their legal advice is for family only. I don’t make the rules.”
    “Well, I’ll just talk to Detective Sanchez, then.”
    Roman laughed and dropped her hand. “Sure, if you want to get arrested. That will look great for your father. Tell me—does he even know what you’re up to?”
    She felt the blood drain out of her head. “Up to?”
    “Sneaking around. Missing at night. Lying. I don’t know, Christy—it looks suspicious.”
    “If you feel that way, then why this whole engagement farce?” She pulled at the ring, angry that it wouldn’t come off fast enough for her to fling it at him. She managed to get it off but scratched her knuckle doing it, and put it to her mouth, sucking away the blood.
    He clamped his hands over hers, folding the ring painfully inside. “You’re all emotional, sweet girl. Who could blame you with all that’s happened? Maybe you should see someone—consider medication.”
    “I don’t need medication.” Her voice wasn’t strong, though. Roman couldn’t possibly know about before. Her father wouldn’t have told anyone. None of this made any sense.
    “Don’t you? I wouldn’t want to miss signs of a cry for help.”
    “I’m fine. It’s just been . . . a difficult few days.”
    “I feel greatly reassured to hear that. But remember, we have doctors we can call in. They’re always happy to help a Sanclaro.” He unwrapped her fingers from around the ring, extracted it, and put it back on her finger, kissing the bleeding knuckle. “You’ll wear this ring and that way I’ll know you’ll be rational and think about this.”
    She stared into his handsome face. Was this new sense of threat real—or because she was losing her grip on her emotions? Roman only wanted the best for her, didn’t he? It made no sense that he’d be blackmailing her into an engagement. Did he hurt or threaten you? Detective Sanchez’s words came back to her suddenly. And for the first time, she was afraid of Roman.
    “Christy?” He gave her a stern look. Not one that made her giddy with desire, but that made her want to run. Except she was trapped. She needed time to figure a way out of this snare of truth and lies. She looked down at the lush grass that didn’t belong in the desert landscape.
    “Tell me you’ll wear the ring and behave as my fiancée, so I’ll know that all will be well.”
    “I’ll wear the ring,” she repeated back, feeling like a wind-up doll.
    “Good girl.” He tucked her hand in the crook of his arm, imprisoning it there. “You’ve made me a very happy man today.”
    She went along, waiting for her chance to get away, not sure which of them was insane.
     
    “Do you think I’m crazy?” Christy slid onto the bar stool at Del Charro with a sense of profound relief at her escape, and Hally, taking one look at her, started making one of her famous monster margaritas.
    “Not more so than most.”
    Not the answer she’d expected. “What does that mean?”
    “Well, don’t you think everyone is kind of crazy, just more or less so?” Hally cocked her head in earnest question.
    “I guess I think most people are sane and only a few are crazy.”
    “See,” Hally held up her hands to demonstrate, “it’s a kind of spectrum. People on this end,” she wiggled the fingers of her right hand, “are all what we think of as sane. They only see the physical world, nothing more.” She fluttered her left hand. “On the other extreme are the people who’ve gone full woo-woo. They’re so wrapped up in the spirit world and all the