Page 22 of Dancing in the Dark

Sera?

“Yeah.” She nibbles nervously on her bottom lip and brings less animated eyes back around. “It’s about that time, actually.”

“Excellent.” Anderson moves forward a step. Two. Three at a stretch. “I’ll walk you in?”

“I’ll talk to you another time.” She offers me the closest thing to a smile she can manage. It’s a conciliatory grimace, which doesn’t feel nearly as good as her giggles from a few minutes ago. “Tell Mia I said hello.”

“I will.” I bring my coffee up—anything to cover my stunned fish out of water impersonation while I’m forced to watch this beautiful, vibrant, perfect woman walk away with another man. Unfortunately, all I manage is to scald the taste buds from my tongue and hiss at the burn slowly making its way down my throat. “Fuck.”

It was a good day. Now, not so much.

My blood sizzles as Markum leads Sera up the stairs with a hand casually pressed to the small of her back, then my phone trills and draws my focus to the vibration buzzing against my ass. Reaching back blindly, I free the device and answer with a swipe of my thumb. Stop fucking touching her! “Yeah?”

“You finished with your thing yet?” Archer questions. “Fabian just tossed us a robbery gone wrong.”

“Yeah.” I grip my phone tight enough to risk the electronics inside, then, spinning on my heels, I stalk toward the station. “I’ll be there in two minutes. Grab a car and meet me out front if you want.”

“Okay.” Already, I hear his long strides through our busy homicide bullpen. “See you in a minute.”

9

SERAPHINA

“Meeting with a local homicide detective on the front steps of City Hall isn’t exactly a good look, Seraphina. Should I be concerned?”

“Nope.” I shove through the front doors of my building and brush his hand off my back. Cutting a line straight through the lobby, my heels noisily clicking against pristine tile, I stride straight to the elevators and slap the call button.

“So what were you doing meeting with the police?” Anderson follows me in and drops his hands into his pockets. “Detective Fletcher’s partner is Malone, ya know?”

“Mmhm. I know.” I take out my vibrating phone and spy another random “hv75j#” on the screen. Before I can even think to respond, an incoming call from the same unknown, unsaved number comes through and sends my stomach into a jumping frenzy.

Ignoring Anderson, I answer and press the device to my ear. “Hello?”

I catch the rustling sound of clothes. Breathing. Shuffling feet.

Frowning, I check the screen again, then I bring it back up. “Hello? Who is this?”

“Is everything okay?” Anderson leans closer. Too friggin’ nosy, too curious. “Who is that?”

Whoever they are, they kill our call and leave me hanging, then we stop on the eleventh floor anyway, and the doors whir open.

“Sera?”

“Please don’t call me Sera.” I stride forward with a stomach burning with what I can only describe as anxiety. It’s not the sickening, paralyzing, nightmare-inducing kind of anxiety. More like the anticipatory kind.

Moving along a hall lined with offices, I make my way past staffers, fancy door plaques, and in some cases, a window for them to peek out during the day.

Not me, though. I don’t have an office. Or a plaque. I get a desk right outside Justin’s, and instead of a window, I get the beautiful, perky, blonde Reese Prescott to stare at.

It’s very Devil Wears Prada, except our boss never tosses things at us, never makes us fear for our lives, and rarely expects us to deliver impossible things.

“Good morning.” Reese sits tall, arching her spine exactly right, and destroys the small spark of hope I had that Anderson might’ve gotten stuck inside the elevator. “Good morning, Mr. Markum.”

“Hello, Reese.” I circle my desk and set my things down. I don’t bother sitting. I merely bend over the rich mahogany, tuck my hair back, and tap my keyboard to get my computer powered up. The instant the screen flickers to life, I input my password. “Anderson and I have a briefing with Justin first thing. I expect we’ll be an hour or so.” I open my emails and scan my inbox to make sure nothing important has arrived in the twenty minutes since I last obsessively checked them on my phone. “Is there anything I need to know before I go in?”

She shakes her head. “He’s already in his office. He arrived a few minutes ago and said he’s ready for you when you get in. I saw that Ambassador Zhao and his entourage are in the air; I’ll keep an eye on that while you’re in your meetings. Also, Police Chief Maron sends his regrets; he cannot attend today’s afternoon briefing, but says he’ll be by tomorrow.”

“Good. Okay.” I pick up the topmost file on my Mount Kilimanjaro-esque pile and hug it to my chest. “Does Justin know that yet?”