My whole body feels like it’s on fire, but I start shaking uncontrollably, and my hands are like ice while simultaneously sweating. My thoughts start racing and I remember my Beretta in my bag but before I can act, my breaths turn into short little pants that aren’t getting enough air, and the brush in my fingers slips free, my grip lost completely while the world starts to spin on its axis.
Then it disappears.
3
LEONOR
“Ah, my Leonor. There you are. My sweet child, yes, that’s it. Come back to us, Leonor.”
My eyelids flutter as they try to force themselves open, blinking repeatedly to clear the darkness I’m wading in. I can barely make out the deep eyes belonging to Pierre, and the rest of him is still a blur, but I’d know his voice anywhere.
It’s slowly bringing me back to earth, but I don’t know where.
I’m on a bed. Not my bed, but I can tell that’s what it is.
I clutch my chest as I start to panic again, momentarily unable to recall the events that led me here, my pulse careening into cardiac arrest territory so quickly the rest of my body can’t catch up.
On reflex I start feeling for blood, for torn flesh or gaping wounds and when I find none, I search for a weapon. My hands grip the sheets, pulling and twisting until I feel my fingers sting.
“No, no, sweet Leonor. Breathe.” A pair of strong but gentle hands grab my wrists, and I practically choke on the scream trying to tear from my throat. “Focus on me, just breathe with me.”
My eyes snap to his much darker ones, and I begin to follow his rhythm. In through my nose, out through my mouth. My pulse gradually slows and my vision clears, and once I feel like I can, when the world stops spinning, I try to get to my feet.
“Leonor, take it slow. Are you ok? Do you have pain?” Pierre places his hands on my shoulders to prevent me from standing, and it helps ground me a little more.
“I’m ok, I don’t know what happened. I’m fine,” I lie through my teeth. I’m good at that, and there’s only one thing that would get me to where I am right now.Wow, my head is throbbing, and I feel sick.“I just need some water, and maybe a little air.”
My legs turn to mush the second I stand, but Pierre catches me and wraps his strong arm around my waist for support.
“You should rest a while. Get your sea legs back at least.” He looks thoughtful as he raises his brows slightly. “You know you have automatic sick days under this new contract. You could go to your loft and rest, perhaps? Justine and I could bring you dinner on our way home, maybe even keep you company for a while...” His words trail off as the two of us make our way down the first flight of stairs because we both know my answer. We both know what I’m about to say.
“Pierre, I’m fine. I just need to take a break. It was probably the chemical fumes or something. I must not have opened a window before I started.”
More lies.
I’m still not sure if there really was anyone else in the room with me and since everyone is already extremely concerned about my mental health, I think it’s better to keep my trap shut about the possible phantom figure I couldn’t even turn around to see.
Pathetic.
As we head down the second set of stairs we hear raised voices, most likely coming from just outside the library, which causes my hackles to raise for the first time in forever.
“I can assure you; this is nothing that you need to have concerns over. I don’t know exactly what happened, what exactly it was yousaw, but it is not something that will negatively impact the restoration. Sir, I can vouch—” Justine says firmly before she’s interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.
“Maybe you can explainexactlywhatit was that I saw, then? One minute she’s sitting there, painting or whatever, the next she’s blacked out on the floor. I didn’t even have time to knock, and when I picked her up to put her on the bed? Christ, she weighs less than I expected. Is she on drugs? Going through withdrawal maybe and I walked in on a seizure?” The unfamiliar male voice huffs. “What is wrong with that girl? I will not have you putting this estate in jeopardy for some charity case, do you understand me? Not after all the trouble we’ve already had. I did not put you in this position so you can let your bleeding heart run wild. You are to hire competent and trustworthy tradesmen and women to bring this house out of its current state and restore it to its original standing. This isn’t a home for thedown and out. If she isn’t gone by the end of the day, I will seriously reconsider your role here.”
The man’s voice is sharp and deep, slicing through the air with every condescending syllable. It hangs thick around us, mixing with the humidity, and it clings to every surface.
I don’t fucking like it one goddamn bit.
The unfamiliar man stops berating my friend and turns slowly the second Justine’s expression gives away my position on the bottom stair behind him. An obviously forced and practiced smile curves his thin lips into a perfect crescent shape when his eyes land on me, and I grip the railing to brace myselfagainst the severity of it, Pierre still keeping a protective arm around me as I do.
Glancing at Justine’s face, I find it full of fear and worry, tears brimming on her lash line, then my eyes shoot back to the unidentified man who was just lighting her up one side and down the other. But when I open my mouth to speak, to give him a taste of his own medicine, the words get caught as he extends his hand toward me, strangely offering his assistance to help me from where I’m standing.
I feel like I know him.
I don’t, I’ve never seen him before in my life regardless of the weird feeling in my gut, and that’s enough to snap me back to our less than cordial first meeting.
So, I straighten my spine and look up to make eye contact, wanting what I have to say burned into his brain for all of eternity, but I freeze.
