Chapter 5: Face Down

"No," I said.

His hand stayed on my wrist.

"You called it a mistake," I said. "You called it nothing, in front of her mother and your assistant."

"Anneliese."

"I stood there and zipped my own dress while you watched. I won't tell strangers I was drunk so you can feel better about it."

Behind us the cameras were rising to their feet again.

A flash went off on the sidewalk.

"Get in the car," Ansel said.

"I'm working."

"Get in the car, or they'll have the next picture in ten seconds."

I glanced through the shop window. Fran gave me two thumbs up and mouthed: Go.

I got in the car.

His driver didn't look at either of us. The partition went up, and the black glass sealed us in.

We didn't speak until we passed the river.

"Where are we going?" I said.

"My office."

"That isn't your place. That's one of your rules."

"It's not my place," he said. "It's my building."

The Buckingham Freight tower stood forty floors tall in the financial district.

His elevator was private and ran straight to the top. The doors opened on a floor of glass and gray carpet with nobody in it.

His office was bigger than my apartment.

He shut the door and turned the lock.

"Say it," I said.

"Say what?"

"What you said last night. That you hated that it wasn't nothing."

"I'm not saying it again."

"Then say the other thing. Say what you said to her mother, so I can hear how it sounds with the lights on."

His jaw worked.

"You want me to say it was a mistake?" he said.

"I want you to look at me and say it."

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