“Are you nuts?”
As Paxton’s gaze followed the steep staircase up several stories into the gloom, he heard Rhiannon struggling to get her key out of the heavy interior door that had closed behind them. When she caught up with him, he whirled on her.
“There is no elevator in this damn building.”
“This is one of the reasons I chose to live in this Victorian brownstone… Besides, there are only three flights…”
“‘Only three flights,’ she says… Do you hate elevators?” Paxton asked, remembering their last ‘trip’ straight to his penthouse.
“I hate small spaces or boxy rooms…”
“Why?”
“Because when I was a kid, an older cousin locked me in a closet and left me there while he went outside to play with other kids. He also turned off the light, so…”
She could still remember John’s gloating smile
