The mansion was never truly silent. It hummed with the sound of the industrial AC and the faint, rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ghost of Roman’s arm around my waist from the motel, followed immediately by the memory of Marcus’s security hammering on the door.
I gave up at 2:00 AM. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper, and the expensive bottled water in my mini-fridge was empty.
I crept down the stairs, my bare feet silent on the cold marble. I didn't turn on the lights. I didn't need to. The moon was hitting the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the kitchen into a room of silver and deep blue shadows.
I stopped in the doorway.
Roman was sitting at the massive marble island. He wasn't drinking
