ISABELLE
I was barely halfway through my work when I slipped out for a snack break. Anyone watching would think Moretti had starved me before sending me on my way.
The thought alone was enough to bring the heat rushing to my face. I pressed it back down. The idea of having something — someone — that was entirely mine, unknown to anyone around me, sent a quiet thrill through my chest. My little secret. And it was doing something to me I hadn’t expected. It was making me feel alive.
My appetite had been relentless all morning. Either my body was still recovering from last night, or the shot was already announcing itself. Probably both.
I pulled two apples from the fruit bowl, rinsed them, and set them on a small plate. Then, I filled my cup with water and snapped the lid on.
“Isabelle?”
