1.3.3
“I hope you don’t mind me stopping by,” Ashton said softly. He slipped into the guest seat on the opposite side of Selma’s desk—the same one Selma had been sitting in when he first knocked on the door—and Colton could see the shiny tops of his loafers from his fetal position below the desk. Behind him, Selma slid into the squeaky chair he’d been sitting in, and he knew there was no way out.
Don’t breathe, he told himself. Don’t make a sound.
“I was just walking by and thought I’d stop to say hello,” Ashton said, snake-like. Colton could hear him drum his fingers on the desk above.
“Oh, well, very nice of you to do so.”
Colton was impressed with how nonchalant Selma sounded. He didn’t detect the slightest tinge of trepidation in her voice.
“Are you staying for tonight’s party?”
