like, good days and
bad days, and if the good days are like this, I won’t ha一ve
much to complain about. He hands me a sheet of paper.
“These are the times that Claude is free this week,” he
says.
Oh! The trainer.
As we pull up to my apartment building, he fishes his
Blackberry from his pocket.
“Grey,” he answers. “Ros, what is it?” He listens
intently, and I can tell it’s an involved conversation.
“I’ll go and get Ethan. I’ll be two minutes,” I mouth at
Christian and hold up two fingers.
He nods, obviously distracted by the call. Taylor opens
my door, smiling at me warmly. I grin at him, even Taylor’s
feeling it. I press the entry phone and shout happily into it.
“Hi, Ethan, it’s me. Let me in.”
The door buzzes, and I head upstairs to the apartment.
It occurs to me that I ha一ve not been here since Saturday
morning. That seems so long ago. Ethan has kindly left the
front door open. I step into the apartment, and I don’t
know why, but I freeze instinctively as soon as I step
inside. I take a moment to realize it’s because the pale,
wan figure standing by the kitchen island, holding a small
revolver is Leila, and she’s gazing impassively at me.
Holy fuck.
She’s here, gazing at me with an unnerving blank
expression, holding a gun. My subconscious swoons into a
dead faint, and I don’t think even smelling salts will bring
her back.
I blink repeatedly at Leila as my mind goes into
overdrive. How did she get in? Where’s Ethan? Holy shit!
Where is Ethan?
A creeping cold fear grips my heart, and my scalp
prickles as each and every follicle on my head tightens with
prickles as each and every follicle on my head tightens with
terror. What if she’s harmed him? I start breathing rapidly
as adrenaline and bone-numbing dread course through my
body. Keep calm, keep calm—I repeat the mantra over
and over in my head.
She tilts her head to one side, regarding me as if I’m an
exhibit in a freak show. Jeez, I’m not the freak here.
It feels like an eon has passed while I process all this
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