Chapter 11: His Rules

"I got dizzy," I said, and leaned on the wall to prove it. "I was waiting for it to pass."

Lacey's hand stayed on my shoulder one beat too long.

"Poor thing." She smiled. "Come back and sit. I'll get you a glass of water."

She steered me to the dining room, and I let her.

My phone sat against my ribs, still warm, still recording.

Twenty minutes later, I told Colin my head was pounding.

He drove me home with both hands tight on the wheel.

"You were quiet tonight," he said.

"I was dizzy."

"Mother thinks you're sulking."

"Tell her I'm sorry."

He walked me to the door, said goodnight, and went into the guest room.

I waited until the house was silent.

Then I took my shoes in my hand and left through the kitchen.

I called a car from the end of the street.

The address was in a text that had come at nine. Lake Shore Drive, the top floor, and a code.

His penthouse was the whitest place I had ever seen.

White floors, white walls, a white sofa with no cushions, and the whole city laid out through the windows.

Nothing sat on any surface. It was clean in a way that made my teeth hurt.

Quincy stood in the middle of it in a black T-shirt and old trousers, with bare feet.

He didn't say hello.

He crossed the room and took my face in both hands.

"You're shaking," he said.

"I recorded them." I fumbled my phone out and sent him the file. "Roberta. Colin. The stronger tablet. All of it."

His phone chimed on the counter.

He didn't look at it.

"I'll listen later," he said. "Come here."

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