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“I DON’T THINK I CAN make it to the cafe this afternoon,” I breathe, cupping my phone at one end as I hold it close to my mouth.
“Why the hell are you whispering?” Mia bellows from the other end of the line. I look over my shoulder toward the hallway where Zayne disappeared with the weird clergyman a few moments ago.
I open my mouth to tell her what happened, but where do I start? Her last update was before I went downstairs last night for a rendezvous with the evil genius.
“There’s so much I need to tell you,” I murmur, but I’m pretty sure she can’t hear me this time either, not over the background noise in her car. It sounds like she and Declan just drove into a tunnel. I can only hope she hears me now because I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to communicate without a bug on my phone.
“Listen, Mia, I need you to locate that orphanage.” I glance behind me again. “I might be able to get us in. I just need you to find the place. Don’t call me. I’ll be in touch.”
A loud cracking sound bursts from the hallway, and I instinctively hit end call.
I keep staring in the direction of the sound, my pulse thrumming in my ears, when a gentle hand taps my shoulder. I whirl around to meet the round eyes of a woman in what I believe is her early sixties. I can’t pull myself together quickly enough to take in her features, but she gives off the vibes of a homely granny.
“Why, hello there,” she says in a tone so warm it makes me think of freshly baked cookies. She looks as surprised to see me here as I am to see her. “And who might you be?”
I babble a little, not sure whether I should extend my hand or not. I decide on brushing a rebellious strand of my hair behind my ear and offering an awkward smile.
“My name is Sirenna–” I pause. “Miller.”
“Oh! Like Sienna Miller, but with an r?” she chirps.
I laugh awkwardly, and her smile broadens.
“Yes, like Sienna Miller, but with an r. You must be Mariana?”
“Why, yes.” She sounds pleasantly surprised that Zayne thought about her enough to introduce her in her absence.
“Zayne said you’d be able to help me settle in? Seems like I’ll be staying here for a while.” I’ve had employees for a long time, but it’s always strange to deal with someone else’s. Zayne could at least have stayed to do the honors.
“Oh yes, yes, of course,” she reacts, gesturing towards the stairs. “This way, Follow me.”
She leads the way up the stairs and down a hallway that is lined with dim overhead lights that give off a pleasant, luxurious vibe. Different corridors radiate from the landing as if the upper floor were some sort of hive. Zayne Thorngren’s penthouse resembles a modern palace more than it does anything else, especially with the view of the ground floor from the landing, which overlooks the sprawling living area, the side wall with the bookcase that seems to reach up to the heavens, and the breathtaking view of the city through the glass outer wall.
Mariana opens the door to a light-flooded room that infuses me with a sense of wonder at first sight. It’s so clean and welcoming that I absentmindedly take my shoes off before I step inside, my eyes roving over the space.
“Wow,” I whisper.
Central Park is sprawled at my feet, which sink into the fluffiest carpet. The bed faces the window, comfortable armchairs, and a low coffee table across from it.
“This is the best guest room,” Mariana says. She hurries over to the side wall and opens the doors to a large closet that is entirely empty. “I hope this will satisfy your needs.” She sounds a little worried as she says that, wringing her hands. As if she’s used to more demanding women in matters of space. Maybe other women that Zayne brought here?
“Why wouldn’t it be? That’s enough to fit a queen’s wardrobe,” I smile, trying to ease her obvious stress. I’d hate to think I made the impression of a difficult, pretentious person.
“Yes, well, some of young master Zayne’s other guests wouldn’t say the same.”
“Other guests?” My heart beats faster. Am I even sure I want to know?
“Yes, I mean there was–” Mariana stops and shakes her head as if it doesn’t matter. “Never mind.”
I advance on her, realizing that I might look a little threatening, but I’m unable to stop.
“Other guests?” I press.
“I mean, just this one lady once. She comes every once in a while.”
I bite hard into my lip before I let press any further. I haven’t known this woman for ten minutes, and I’m already interrogating her like a lunatic.
“Have you been working for him long?” I inquire, entering the large closet and trying to focus on its shelving.
