Page 6 of The Au Pair Affair

“Yup. It’s a nice room. Sunlight. Closet space.”

“Great.” Burgess tamped down on the urge to turn aroundand look back at the smoothie shop. Was this his last chance to see her? “I’ve got someone. But she’s only paying seven hundred.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Relax. I’m good for the rest. Send me the info.” He rubbed at the sharp object in his throat. “It’s my fault she has to find a rental in the first place. It’s the least I can do.”

Chapter Three

Tallulah skidded to a stop in front of the building and her jaw unhinged, drooping to the vicinity of her ankles. This was the place Burgess expected her to rent a room? Did he somehow misinterpret her budget to be seven thousand a month, instead of seven hundred?

Modern lines, gray stone exterior, mums peeking out of window flower boxes, gas lanterns hanging on either side of the glass door. The place was a Boston postcard.

“The apartment is probably a front for a commune of clowns,” she muttered, walking inside and searching the vertical row of buzzers for 3F. “Or Chloe is the code name for a ring of rich financiers who need a place to convene for nightly pagan rituals. I’m obviously tonight’s sacrifice.” She stabbed the buzzer. “Weird that I still want to rent the room?”

“Nope. It’s a great room!” enthused a voice on the other end. “I’m Chloe. Come on up!”

Tallulah winced. “On my way!”

Chloe was obviously bait.

How many people had been lured to their deaths here by the promise of an affordable cost of living? At such a cheap rent, how had this place not already been rented?

Not for the first time that morning, she wondered if she’d made a huge mistake turning down the free room offered by Burgess.

Burgess.

Was she continuing to think about him out of guilt? Because she felt bad for breaking their deal? Or was it the fact that his thoughtful composure just... appealed to her? Tallulah was really good at making small talk. When one worked in research labs in Antarctica and elsewhere with a bunch of introverted biologists, one learned to fill the silence. And her gift of the gab had been honed on many a night out during undergrad.

Yesterday with Burgess, she’d skipped the small talk.

They’d bypassed it completely—and nothing about it felt too soon. Or uncomfortable.

There was no explanation, except that something about his intentional gaze made Tallulah feel like they were past pleasantries. Sure, they’d met once, months ago, but that shouldn’t have been enough to compel her to open up so quickly.

Whatwasit about him?

Shaking off her useless musings, Tallulah walked up the stairs, slowly, on the balls of her feet, finger on the trigger of the pepper spray she’d uncapped in her pocket. Overhead, she heard the gentle creak of a door swinging open. So far, she didn’t hear any chanting, but the evil oligarch financiers might just be at work.Someonehad to pay the rent on this place. Obviously, it wouldn’t be Tallulah—she would be dead. Sacrificed to the god of prosperity or something.

She rounded the railing at the top of the final staircase—

And found an ethereal blonde staring back at her from an open doorway at the opposite end of the hall, gel patches shaped like half-moons stuck beneath her eyes. “Are you Chloe?”

“Yes,” whispered the blonde. “Hurry, before the landlord sees me. He knocked on my door for the rent earlier—and I have it.Mostof it. Sig gave me a check for September and I deposited it, like I was supposed to. But I might have withdrawn a little chunk for essentials.”

Tallulah moved down the hallway. “Such as?”

“Oh, this and that.” Chloe stepped aside to allow Tallulah into the apartment, her bright smile dissolving into dread. “One of the building amenities is Wi-Fi. Do you think the landlord can see what I’m buying online?”

“I don’t know,” Tallulah said honestly.

“I bet he can. Oh boy.” Chloe ripped off the gel patches from beneath her eyes, tapping and pressing the dewy, uncovered skin, as if to see if the patches had made a difference. “Let me show you the room.”

For the first time, Tallulah turned to look at the apartment—and only grew more suspicious. It was a palace of high ceilings, awash in sunshine. An incredibly spacious open floor plan with a chef’s kitchen on one side, a sunken living room on the other. Greenery galore. Tastefully decorated down to the woven basket full of throw blankets. Well, apart from the framed Gauthier jersey and Boston Bearcats pennants over the couch, anyway.

Chloe bounced ahead of her to the far end of the apartment where a short hallway was located. She toed open a door and executed a sweeping bow. “Thy chambers, milady.”

“How many oligarchs are hiding in there?”

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