Black Dahlia (The Dahlia Trilogy of The Gilded Flower Series Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

no one knows her real name. They say she’s over a hundred years old. Not that anyone would know for sure since they don’t have birth records, but she is the oldest person in the village. She’s a healer, or maybe you’d refer to her as a medicine woman.”
    “Why am I not in a hospital?”
    The man stands up from his stool and crosses his arms, which Dahlia notices are strong and taut. “Because the hospital is too far away, and you’re not in any danger. The snake wasn’t poisonous, but you need something to help heal the wound.”
    Dahlia sighs, and tries to remove the wet, sticky cloth.
    “Don’t touch it,” he warns. “She said to leave it on for an hour.”
    “How long have we been here?”
    The man checks his watch. “Forty minutes.”
    “That means you have to babysit me for another twenty then.” Dahlia draws her hand under her head and stares up at the ceiling, studying the grains in the dark, smooth, wooden beams.
    “Something like that,” he replies, his mouth curling up into a half-smile, creating a dimple in his left cheek.
    “It’s all your fault I’m here in the first place,” Dahlia says. “If you hadn’t snooping around the villa, I wouldn’t have had to chase you down to the beach.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding. You want to blame me for this,” he says, pointing to her ankle.
    Dahlia shrugs. “What were you doing lurking around my home?”
    The man shakes his head. “I wasn’t lurking. I manage the property, all the houses on the island as a matter of fact. The staff informed me that they had to go to the market and that the guests, meaning you ,” he says looking directly at Dahlia, “Would be out for most of the day. Usually, one member of the staff is on the grounds the whole time, but I’m a bit shorthanded at the moment and needed a maid at another property. I figured it wouldn’t be a problem since you weren’t supposed to be home. I was merely doing my job, checking on things, making sure everything is secure.”
    “So you make it a habit to run away from us guests?”
    He leans against the wall. “I wasn’t running away. I didn’t realize you were chasing me until I heard you scream. Besides, it’s my job to stay invisible, and not interrupt anyone’s vacation. The people who stay where you are tend to have particular needs regarding privacy and security.”
    “So you can imagine my surprise when I saw you,” Dahlia rebuts, turning her head to look at him, annoyed to the point of anger that she’s lying barefoot in a thin dress, feeling vulnerable and exposed in front of a complete stranger.
    “Again, I’m sorry,” he replies.
    Dahlia looks away when she notices the sincerity in his dark eyes. Not now , she thinks to herself. She’s tired of the sad, kind, sincere, sympathetic looks she gets from everyone. She doesn’t want to feel pathetic or weak or broken in front of people anymore. It’s why she’s craved privacy. But lying there, her ankle smothered in some glue-like substance and talking to this man, she can’t help but feel what she’s felt since Shane’s death. Helpless and alone.
    A silence falls over them. Dahlia begins to sketch the room in her mind, trying to recall the minute details of the plant in the corner and the fragrant frangipani she notices outside.
    “You surf?” The guy asks, breaking the silence.
    Dahlia turns her gaze toward him. “Why would you ask that?”
    “The cuts and scars on your feet.” He points down to his own. “I have quite a few myself.”
    Dahlia shrugs, wondering if surfing will always haunt her. “I guess you could say surfing was more of a past-life thing.”
    “Is that something you believe in?” He asks curiously.
    Dahlia resists the urge to smile, amused by his nervous chatter.
    “Does my sister know I’m here?” She asks, redirecting the conversation. Surfing and past lifetimes are too close a reminder of death—and Shane.
    He shakes his head. “I called the house, but the staff