Sapphire
I escort Alexis Martin—an abuse survivor—to the door of my office and usher her out while my cell phone vibrates in my pants pocket like it’s auditioning for a spot in the latest s*x toy catalog.
It’s been going off for the past five minutes. A few inches toward the center, and the thing would have knocked this audition out of the park, especially with the heat radiating off it. Lately, my cellphone just heats up like a miniature furnace for no good reason.
I close the office door before George can sneak out, then pull out my phone. The moment I answer the phone, I hear a click, then silence.
Oh great. Creepy guy again. Maybe I should let Zade secure my lines instead of stubbornly digging my feet in.
Before I can hang up, though, Mariana’s frantic voice comes across the line.
