The room was unusually cold, too. Someone had opened the window, or the stench would have been even starker. Deirdre was silent for a bit before she asked, “You were smoking?”

“Mm.” Brendan coughed and cleared his throat. Once his voice regained clarity, he ordered, “The clothes are on your bed. Change into them. We should get going.”

There was no stylist with them. After changing into her getup, Deirdre let her hair free, where it dangled around her shoulders. Before stepping outside, she put on some lipstick on her lips to look a little more alive.

Brendan stared at her. “Did you put on lipstick?”

“Yes.” She brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and dodged his gaze. “I can’t possibly see them without makeup, but I don’t know what else to do. Why? Something wrong?”

“Everything’s wrong,” he replied brusquely. Stepping forward, he pressed his finger on her supple lips and wiped her effort away. “You did a crappy job.”

Deirdre was not at all offended. “Sorry. I was literally