“Who are you going as? The Grouch?” Esme asked, looking Z up and down. Several weeks had passed since their night at the paint and sip and now Halloween was upon them. Not that they were wearing costumes, per se. Well, if you didn’t count Z’s disapproving scowl.

He didn’t even crack a smile, just shook his head and turned away to check his weapons yet again. “I don’t like this idea. You have that on record.”

“It’s a haunted house, not an executioner’s chamber.” Es cocked her head, considering. “Though I suppose they might have one of those there, too. Besides, it’s a little late for you to object. You’re the one who secured the invite to begin with.”

“That was before,” he grumbled, jamming his gun into the holster at his side then rebuttoning his ever-present black suit jacket. If she gave him a pair of black sunglasses, he could go as one of the Men in Black. “Things are different now.”

And that was the problem. She needed tonight to get her mind off the baby-making. All of the pregnancy tests she’d found stated you had to wait for one missed period before the test could be considered accurate, and she was already experiencing her usual bloat and lower back cramps. Most likely her next period would start any day now, and they’d be looking at another month of trying to conceive. Not that the sex with Z was a chore, but pleasure wasn’t exactly her end goal here.

Nope. She was going to this haunted house, and she was going to have fun even if it killed her. Esme crossed her arms and dug in her heels. “I’ll be just as safe there as I would be here and you know it. Heck, you’ve all but ensured it, right? It’ll just be you and me going through it, and you vetted all the staff and actors involved. No worries, right?”

“What about the fear part?”

“What about it?”

“Someone in your condition shouldn’t be frightened like that. All the books say so.”

“My condition?” Her cheeks heated with anger. “My condition is currently stressed out. And stress is just as bad as anything else for conception.” To prove her point, she stalked back to the bedroom and grabbed her favorite manual and flipped to the page of dos and don’ts. She held it up in front of his face. “See? Nowhere on here does it say anything about not going to a haunted house.” She closed the book with a resounding thwap, nearly catching the end of his nose in it, before setting it aside and grabbing her jacket and bag on the way to the door. “Now, I’m going out tonight. I’m going to have fun. Are you going to be there with me or not?”

Z looked as grim as a reaper as he followed her outside the townhouse then into the waiting limo. About twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside another townhouse, this one in much worse condition than the one they’d left. It was in the suburbs of the city, with a huge stone edifice and a spooky goth waiting on the crumbling stoop to greet them. Two huge glass light fixtures attached to the cement railing on either side of the front door cast the area in a dim, yellowish glow.

Z started out of the back of the limo, grimacing as death metal music and the occasional screech of a bat echoed from the sidewalk outside. He stopped and turned back to her. “You sure about this, princess?”

She swallowed hard and nodded. She’d always had a love-hate relationship with scary things, but tonight she just wanted to forget. Forget about the possibility of pregnancy. Forget her father still lying in the hospital, no worse, but no better either. Forget about her cousin back in Prylea working day and night to destroy her country.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Esme squared her shoulders and took Z’s hand so he could help her out of the car. It was surprisingly warm for late October. Then again, that could just be her wacky hormones giving her hot flashes. “Let’s do this.”

Esme smiled at the goth who bowed then creaked open the massive doors to the dilapidated townhouse. Z scanned both directions and said something into his Bluetooth headset to his security team, then led her inside. At first, it looked like a typical horror-film set, blue lights beaming down on a damp and murky hallway. The walls were a mess of crumbling plaster and jagged wood with the occasional metal bar piercing through. They made their way down the corridor, Z tense beside her, dodging puddles as they went. Esme wondered where the water had come from, but then they emerged into the room at the end and she wondered no more.

They’d certainly made the gore realistic, she’d give them that. The room was set up like a mock autopsy suite, complete with a sliced open cadaver on the table. Not one to be overly squeamish about blood and guts, Esme was surprised to find her stomach churning at the sight. Internal organs and various parts were strewn about like limp pasta noodles and the smell. God, whatever they’d used to recreate that chemical-mixed-with-rotted-meat stench was…

Yep. She barely had time to race to the corner before she lost the meager contents of her stomach. Esme was mortified. Z was perfectly composed and capable as always, rubbing her back and holding her hair out of her face for her. He didn’t even bat an eye when she was finished, all flushed and flustered, just handed her a handkerchief from his pocket to clean herself up and a breath mint.

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say, her voice trembling. “We shouldn’t have come here. You were right.”

“I usually am,” he said, but his tone was nothing but kind. “C’mon, princess. Let’s get you back outside and into some fresh air. It’s definitely rank in here.”

“Please don’t talk about it,” she said, leaning heavily on him for support as they made their way back down the blue hallway. Out of nowhere, a guy in a hazmat suit pounced on them and Z nearly ripped the guy’s head off before she stopped him. Talk about a jump scare.

By the time they made it back to the limo, she felt cold and tired and unaccountably close to tears. This whole thing was getting out of hand. She needed to step it up and find out if they were having a baby or not.

Z helped her back into the limo then radioed his team again, telling them they were on their way back home.

“Um, can we make a stop on the way?” Esme asked as he slid onto the black leather seat beside her. “At the drug store?”

He gave her a weird look at first, but then she patted her stomach and realization dawned in his blue eyes. “Right. Sure, princess.”