Christian stared out the row of massive windows in her pink and gilt room, silent, his back turned to her, his hands clasped behind his back. Her gaze skipped around the room but she saw nothing except the repeated pattern of ivy on the wallpaper, which made searing impressions of red against her eyelids when she closed them.
She’d done this often over the past few minutes.
The chair she was sitting on seemed oddly insubstantial, as if she had only to shift her weight and it would disappear beneath her in a puff of smoke. Nothing, in fact, seemed to hold any weight any longer. Even her hands in her lap seemed poised to evaporate into nothingness. It all seemed like something from a dream.
From her time spent here with Morgan, Jenna knew this room was sealed like a vault. She’d been over
