I keep my lips shut. I pinch them together so hard, numbness blooms.
“The sooner you answer me, the sooner I leave you alone,” he sneers, sounding too much like Dax.
“Why are you asking?”
“Why do you think? I’ve been watching you, Jules. You’re a smart girl, so don’t play coy now. It is a waste of both our time.”
“Be more specific. What do you mean,‘What did I hear?’” I snap the words at him. His lip pulls up with scorn as he tilts his head to the side to watch me. I straighten my back and cross my arms. He’s no different to those losers on bikes.
I’ll be okay, plus Dax said he has cameras in all the public places. Except, there are no tell-tale black dots on the ceiling in here.
Ben follows the direction of my gaze. “No cameras, Jules, but good thinking. I knew you were a smart girl.”
If there’s no chance of a rescue or, at least, an audience, then I’ll have to bluff my way out. “Whatever. You still need to explain what you want me to tell you.”
“You need me to clarify which conversation you eavesdroppedon?”
I blanch. He knows about earlier. His grin widens.
“Your blonde hair is distinctive, Jules. I saw you dart into the boardroom, but don’t worry, I didn’t tell Frank. He’ll have you shipped out of here in an instant for less. So, you see, I really am trying to help you out. Now,What. Did. You. Overhear?”
“Enough to know you’re hiding something, but not enough to know what that something is,” I admit. I also know enough to suspect him of being the mole, or worse, the person who shot Tom. My heart races with the danger of both possibilities.
“That’s all I need to hear. You should think yourself lucky. Ignorance truly is bliss in this case.” His expression falls. His eyes take on the far-off haze of longing, before he glances up again and his expression washes clean; blank and uncaring. “You don’t belong here. You should leave.” Is he warning me or threatening me? And if it is a threat, why not just neutralise me while he has the opportunity?
I can’t figure it out, so I play along instead. “I plan on it. I’m sick of being threatened and cajoled into doing things. Still, I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a truckload of assholes after me because of you and Tom. Whatever crap you two were pulling in Olive Tower has landed me in the shit. So maybe you owe me some answers?”
“You really don’t need to get in any deeper than you already are.” His hand reaches for the slide lock, he pulls it back and opens the door. A cool breeze of air wafts in, buffeting against the heat pumped out by the still tumbling dryer. “Don’t kick the hornets’ nest, Jules…” he warns, staring me in the eye, challenging me to look away first, but I’m too afraid to look away. “You have no idea how badly they sting.”
He saunters out of the room, leaving me standing with my back to the wall. By the time I pull myself together and step into the kitchen, he’s gone, and I’ve learned something new about myself.
I’m smart enough to want to leave, but stubborn enough to stay and figure out what the hell is going on.
For a girl who had barely enough time to stop and breathe in the last ten years, the concept of boredom is a novelty. Or it is until I last an entire night without talking to anyone or running a chore or having a thought beyond‘what the hell am I doing here?By morning, boredom has become a vicious irritation.
I spend a couple of quiet hours updating my journal and sketching out the places I’ve seen in the last couple of days, but even that doesn’t hold my attention as it normally would. I coveted my journal time before, scraping together every spare moment between lectures to write my thoughts and feelings, draw the faceless people in the crowds, or jot down songs and snippets of conversations I’d overheard. It was my little bit of escapism. Here though, it is my only available pastime. It feels cheaper somehow — way less organic.
When I venture beyond the safety of my room, the apartment is already devoid of Dax and Sylvie. I fix breakfast, eat, and clean my dishes in no time at all and fall back into my head. The questions compile themselves into a list that batters itself against my templesrepeatedly until I force myself to find a distraction.
I consider watching TV, turning the flat screen on, and flicking through the channels, but the longer I sit on Dax’s comfortable sofa, the more I feel like Eric; perched in his recliner, belching, farting, and wasting every day watching reruns.Nope. No thank you.
I wander around the room, scanning the book titles on the shelves and discover that someone in the house has a serious love of all booksKing. I’ve read one or two of his most well-known titles, but the vast number of spines with his name on them lining the shelves overwhelms me. Even if I was in the mood to read, there is no way I could select one without taking hours to read all the synopses.
A tinkling sound echoes from somewhere upstairs, capturing my attention and whipping me into motion. I track it down the corridor to my room and watch my phone throw coloured lights up the walls as it bounces around.
Though I’m holding onto the hope that Aiden is finally touching base, I know there’s really only one person it can be. I don’t want to answer it, but Dax’s smug facepops into my head and I reach for the button.
“What?” I snap.
“Will you quit wandering around like a lost puppy and just find something to do? The boys’ laughter is distracting me.”I glide back out into the hallway and flip off the nearest security camera. I hear the roar of their laughter down the line alongside Dax’s chuckle.
“They’ll only distract you if you sit with them, Dax. I thought you were a businessman? Don’t you have something better to do than watch me like some kind of pervert?”
“Not today, I don’t.”
“Great. Then perhaps I should just stay in my room like a prisoner?” I huff.
“You are not a prisoner.”His sigh hisses.“But do what you want.”
