Cynthia’s breath hitched as she opened the door for whoever was knocking by 10pm, her pulse hammering against her ribs.
The dim hallway light spilled onto the frame of a man_ a tall, broad-shouldered figure clad in a crisp black suit. His expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.
“Miss Cynthia Taylor?” His voice was deep and professional.
Her grip on the doorknob tightened. “Who…who are you?”
The man stepped forward, revealing more of his face in the faint light. “I'm Mr Richard's driver. I've been sent to pick you up”.
“Pick me up??” Her stomach twisted. So soon? She had barely processed what she had done, yet here he was, standing in her doorway as if she had summoned him with the stroke of a pen.
“I__” Cynthia hesitated, glancing over
