Death by Beauty by Gabrielle Lord

into the
     Respond box.
    ‘Hi Angelo – loved your profile. I too am a frustrated artist. I’ve done some sculpting and would love to do more. Maybe you
     could sit for me. You have a fascinating face and I’d love to sculpt it. As for me, I’m 38,’ – not too far from the truth
     – ‘athletic, have dark blonde hair and a curvy figure.’ That at least was true right now. ‘I’m a professional woman of independent
     means who’s had enough of being alone. I have a passionate nature with an artist’s soul and need someone like you who understands
     what intimacy really means. You sound like a dream come true and someone who values what a woman can bring to a man.’
    Gemma considered what she was writing. She wanted to sound vulnerable and sexy, but not pathetic. She also wanted to sound
     wealthy.
    She continued typing: ‘I really hope you contact me. I feel sure we would be good for each other. I’m fortunate enoughnot to have to work, so I could devote all my time to making any relationship a very happy experience.’ She went through her
     picture gallery and uploaded a flattering photo that Mike had taken a month ago at Phoenix Bay.
    Here we go, she thought, as she sent it off, signing herself ‘Geraldine – but call me Gerri.’

    ‘You did
what
?’ Mike asked, when she told him about it as they ate lunch. ‘Gemma, that’s crazy.’
    ‘Calm down, partner,’ she said. ‘Nothing’s happened yet. He probably won’t even contact me. A profile like that is bound to
     catch a lot of little female fishies. But I couldn’t let a great chance like that go by. It’s not often that a target actually
invites
surveillance into his life at such an intimate level.’
    ‘Too bloody intimate for my liking,’ said Mike. ‘What if this guy burns you? If we’re reading the signs right, he’s planning
     to murder his wife. How do you think he’d react to finding that you’re on his case – literally?’
    ‘Mike, you know how my finances are going down. Delphine Tolmacheff is a wealthy paying customer. If I can catch her husband
     doing something criminal, there’s two payoffs: first, I can send her a big bill, and secondly, there’s one less bad guy on
     the streets.’
    Mike stood up and leaned over her, kissing her. ‘I know it’s useless trying to stop you doing anything you’ve decided on,
     but please, be careful. You’ve got a son now who needs you and a man who loves you and doesn’t want to see you in any danger.’
     He sighed. ‘If I could stop you doing this, I would, you know.Sometimes I wish I was a Victorian husband and could say, “My dear Mrs Moody, I totally forbid this.”’
    ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, looking up at his concerned face with a smile. ‘And I’m not Mrs Moody.’
    Mike cleared his throat. ‘Would you like to be?’
    Gemma blinked. ‘Is this a proposal?’
    He pulled her close. ‘Yes, Gemma, it is,’ he whispered. ‘I love you. I think I loved you almost the moment I started working
     for you. Marry me.’
    ‘Mike – I – it’s just so sudden. I don’t know what to say.’
    He drew back, frowning. ‘I know what you should say. But I guess I should have done it more formally – taken you out to dinner,
     pulled out a jeweller’s box …’
    ‘Hell no,’ she laughed. ‘I liked the way you did it.’
    ‘So, what do you say?’ Mike’s eyes looked deep into hers. ‘We could make a really good go of it, Gemma.’
    She drew back to see him better, his familiar, kind face, his tender half smile.
    ‘Mike, just give me a little time to get used to the idea. Mrs Moody.’
    They both laughed and hugged until she stepped away, unsure. ‘I need to think about this. Why now? Are you unhappy with the
     way we are?’
    ‘I’m not unhappy. But I feel like I’m marking time. That we’re marking time. I want to feel that we have a future together
     – you and me, and Rafi. I want to be with the woman I love into the future. I want to feel that our