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I open the note and find just one word staring back at me. “Run.”My blood runs cold, and my breathing speeds up. A loud, metallicbangsounds, and I jump, dropping my green tea. My eyes dart up, and I realize the sound was someone pulling on the door, but there’s a glare, and I can’t see out to know who it is. My heart tries to beat out of my chest, and I swallow hard.
Several loud knocks on the door make my breath catch in my throat.
“Hello!” a familiar voice calls out, and my entire body suddenly feels like Jell-O.
It’s Tiffany!Phew. I let my breath out in whoosh and hurry over to let her in.
“Why did you have the door locked? It’s past lunchtime. Sorry, I’m a little late,” she says quickly.
“Sorry about the door. It’s nothing. And it’s okay about being late getting back from lunch. Don’t worry about it,” I reply.
I hurry to the restroom and grab paper towels to clean up the mess I made when I dropped my tea. Once the mess is cleaned, I think about the note that literally tells me to run. There’s just too much going on right now, so I quickly decide I’m going to do just that.
I’m going to run home, get a bag of clothes, and find somewhere safe to stay and lie low. Away from Christopher, Dark Eyes, and Andrew’s creepy ass.
“Tiffany, I need to go. It shouldn’t be too busy this afternoon, so I’m sure you can handle it,” I tell her flatly as I gather my things to leave.
“Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll be fine, Ms. Shaw. Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been so jumpy the last few days. It’s just not like you. Is there anything I can do?”
I give her a tight smile, hoping it reassures her. “Thank you for your concern. I just have a lot going on. Things are pretty hectic when you’re set to marry a senator.”
Not really an outright lie. Thingsarehectic… Especially when you think the senator you’re about to marry is having people killed.
“I saw on the news where his old business partner was found dead. I’m sorry to hear that. How is Christopher taking the news?”
Like a champ, I think to myself. Of course, I don’t say that. “I think he’s still processing it. It’s a real shock.”
Okay, nowthat’sa flat out lie. He set the whole thing up. I don’t have proof yet—and I don’t know that I ever will—but I have this feeling deep in my gut that I’m right.
He had Jonathan killed, and if he can do that to him, what will stop him from doing that to me? He’s not the kid I grew up with or the man I grew to love. He’s someone entirely different. Whether he’s been hiding it all these years or I’ve been too blind to see it, he’s not who I thought he was.
I have to get away from him before I pay for his “dirty secrets” as Mr. Dark Eyes called them. I realize Tiffany is glancing around uncomfortably. She can’t read my mind, but I imagine my face gives away a lot.
“Anyway, I have to go. Take care of things here, please. I need a few days, at least. I’ll let Stephanie know. You’re more than capable, Tiffany. You’ve always done well for me,” I say, and it sounds more like a goodbye speech than instructions.
I don’t wait for her to respond. Grabbing my things, I push the door open and look both ways before letting it close behind me. I hail a cab and quickly scramble inside. I will not continue to live with this fear. I’m going to take my power back.
And Christopher can accept the consequences of his actions.
I willnotgo down with him.
Chapter 7
Ineedtorunhome and grab enough clothes for a couple of days. My plan is to get a hotel room and work out what I’m going to do. I don’t feel safe at home with Christopher right now, and I’m unwilling to compromise on that.
I need to do some investigating. Maybe I can find out more about how Jonathan died, and I also need to figure out what Christopher took out of his safe deposit box.
Staying in the dark isn’t an option anymore. He shouldn’t be home since it’s midday. I can run in and grab my essentials, and I’ll need some cash, too. I have a stash hidden in a shoe box in my closet. It’s my rainy-day cash that Christopher doesn’t know about.
It’s not that I hid it from him per se, but it’s money that I made selling a few of my paintings. That money was made by doing something that was just for me, so I stashed the cash away.
The cab pulls up to our brownstone. The street is less congested since everyone is at work. I remove my key as I rush up the steps. Opening the door, I expect the brownstone to be empty and quiet.
One of those things is right, but it’s definitely not empty.
Christopher is sitting on the lounge chair in the family room, sipping what looks like bourbon.
His hard stare cuts through me in an instant. “So, you’ve finally decided to come home, I see.”
