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“Did you sleep well?” he asks as I come to a stop in front of him. He reaches out to brush hair from my cheeks, his touch lingering softly.
Gentle.
I nod shyly. “I was pretty tired,” I say, and he chuckles, pleased.
“You fell asleep in the car, I had to carry you up.”
“Well, it was a big night,” I blurt, my cheeks burning. I search his expression, wondering how he feels about me now, after everything we did.
Did I pass his twisted test?
“Yes, it was…” Sebastian’s gaze is warm, and his touch affectionate as he pulls me closer for a gentle kiss. “No regrets, I hope?”
I blink in surprise at his affection. “No,” I reply quickly, and it’s the truth. I wouldn’t take back one single moment of it.
“Good.” Sebastian nods. “I’ll be in the office today, but I’ll be back for dinner.”
“OK,” I reply, and he drops another kiss to my lips. Not heated, or possessive, but something more casual. It’s a goodbye kiss, like we’re a real couple, and an unfamiliar kind of warmth spreads through me.
A sense of belonging…
I’m unsettled by the thought, but luckily, Leon the house manager enters. “Post came for you,” he says, and then to my surprise, he offers me an envelope.
I pause, surprised. Who would be sending me mail here? Besides the threatening surveillance photos, I haven’t received anything at the house.
I take the envelope, silently panicking. It doesn’t look the same as the last delivery—this is just a small rectangle. Still, I can’t be sure. “Thanks,” I say brightly, hoping to open it in private.
But Sebastian looks curious, too. “Handing out ‘change of address’ cards?” he asks. My expression must be tense, because he adds an encouraging smile. “I’m only teasing. You’re welcome to have anything sent here, now that you’re staying. Go ahead.”
He nods to the mail, and it sounds like an order.
Damn.
Refusing to open it now will just make him suspicious, so I tear the envelope, sending up a silent prayer—and then exhaling in relief when I see it’s just an invitation, from what looks like a PR company.
‘Courtesy of Charlie Ludlow PR,’ the card reads.
Charlie… I realize that’s the name Nero mentioned to me, his hacker contact who could help with my research. And the Barretti bar I ran for Nero back in New York?
It’s on Ludlow Street.
“Well?” Sebastian asks, still waiting to know what my message is.
“Nothing important,” I say, gladly showing off the card, which looks perfectly innocent. “I’ve just been invited to check out some fancy new spa experience.”
Sebastian loses interest. “You can have my assistant handle invitations and promotional things,” he says, collecting his briefcase. “I get dozens of those, every day. People begging me to try their new products,” he rolls his eyes. “As if that’s the way to prove their value.”
“Thanks,” I say, “But I’ll take my free massage, thank you very much. I’m sure it’ll be really relaxing.”
And informative.
I getready and head out to the address on the invitation, not exactly sure what to expect from this cloak-and-dagger secret meeting with Charlie. The last thing I would have guessed is that it would be the Met Police Headquarters. I’m standing in front of the building, trying to figure out what my next move should be, when a female voice startles me.
“You’re late.”
I whirl around, surprised. A young woman is standing there, in her mid-twenties, maybe. She’s wearing a leather jacket and jeans with lace-up boots, dark eyeliner smudging her lashes, and her long auburn hair caught up under a black knit cap.
“Um, hi?” I ask, confused. I look around, but the street is just full of people going about their business.
