The shaking spread from my hands into my arms, and my teeth started to chatter. I held the sink until footsteps crossed the foyer below. Arthur walked lightly in the house. These steps were heavier.
I left the bathroom and reached the top of the staircase, keeping low behind the balustrade. From there, I could see into the kitchen.
Damon stood at the open refrigerator, pouring orange juice from the carton. He had changed clothes, but the burn scar on his left hand showed when he lifted the glass. The brass house key lay on the counter beside him.
A floorboard creaked under me. He looked up and smiled.
"Morning, sunshine," he drawled, taking a long sip of the juice. "Housekeeper's day off? This place is a mess."
I came down with one hand on the rail. The withdrawal made my knees unreli
