She puts her foot down and catches a light that’s on the verge of changing to red, forcing me to stop and wait. By the time I get going again, she’s rounded the corner and vanished.
Cursing, I get Rick to track her. She starts heading back to the CBD, but on the way she turns south and picks up State Highway 1. Jesus, where is she going now? I follow at a distance, and Rick eventually confirms she’s turned off at Sylvia Park Shopping Center.
I eventually find her in a boutique clothing store.
She sees me and gives a short laugh. “Seriously?” She hangs the dress she was holding on the rack and puts her hands on her hips.
I stand in front of her, fold my arms, and glare at her.
She moistens her lips. “You’re pretty good.”
“Thank you.”
“How did you know where I am?”
I don’t say anything.
Eventually, she says, “Are you tracking my phone?”
I don’t reply. We are, of course, plus we’ve attached a device to the bottom of her car.
“I’m really not happy about this,” she says.
“Imagine my surprise.”
“Imagine my surprise,ma’am.”
Again, I don’t reply.
“This isn’t working,” she states.
“Seems to me it’s working just fine.”
“I feel so… claustrophobic.” She blinks, and for the first time, her eyes shine and her chest heaves.
I find it hard not to be touched by her obvious emotion. I can only imagine how frustrating it is to be followed all the time, especially in a country in which women are supposed to be free. Equally, Marcus went into great detail about her exceptional talents for manipulation. He told me how she’s used tears to get her own way since she was a kid, and how she’s able to wrap most men around her little finger.
“Are you faking this?” I ask with a frown.
She blinks and lifts her chin. “I never fake anything,dahling.”
If I were a lesser man, I’d have blushed.
She doesn’t look triumphant at my discomfort, though. Instead, she swallows and drops her gaze to her shoes, and blows out a somewhat shaky breath. I think she’s genuinely feeling emotional.
Deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, I say, “I know this is tough for you, but we’re only doing it to keep you safe.”
She frowns. Her big green eyes are shiny, but also hard. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing, ma’am,” I reply, hating having to lie to her.
She clenches her jaw, clearly resentful. But eventually she looks away. “Whatever. I’m going to try on some clothes.”
She tries to lose me again half a dozen times in the shopping center. Each time, I track her down. By the end, I’m not sure which one of us is the most frustrated.
“Don’t worry, I’m going back to the office,” she tells me eventually, when I find her having a coffee in a tiny café at the end of the center.
“Thank Christ,” I say with feeling.
