Sera had been reading for twenty minutes when her phone lit up.
Unknown number. She looked at it for one second. Then she set it face-up on the cushion beside her and went back to her page.
She knew.
She couldn't have explained how. The number was unsaved, clean, nothing her phone recognized. But something in the timing of it, nearly midnight, a Wednesday, a man who would be sitting alone in his study with a drink he wasn't finishing , landed in his chest before his mind had caught up.
The phone rang.
She did not reach for it.
One.
Her eyes stayed on the page. The words sat there. She read none of them.
Two.
She had been doing well. That was the honest truth of the past several weeks. She had been doing genuinely, measurably well. The auction. The Arren negotiation. Garrett Finch'
