Page 126 of Beautiful Liar

Relief eases through me. “Oh, right.” I stare around the loft, but I can’t see any obvious changes to the layout. “Will he be meeting me here from now on?”

“No.”

“He was here last night.”

A flicker of something crosses her face, but it’s gone almost instantly. “It’s his place, Lucky. He can come and go as he pleases. Just as you can. No need to stay cooped up in here all day.” Her gaze probes mine, and I’m thinking she does know what I let slip last night.

I get up from the counter, take my bowl to the sink to avoid looking at her. “I don’t like the cold. No need to go out if I don’t have to.”

“It’s not that cold today. Besides, you have warm clothes. I can organize a car service for you if you want.”

I pour the uneaten cereal down the garbage disposal and turn on the tap. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

“Are you?”

My spine tenses ten times harder than before. I grab a sponge and scrub the bowl. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

She stays silent for a short spell. Then sighs. “Okay, Lucky. Have it your way.” I’m not sure why there’s a hint of sadness in that response.

I look over my shoulder, but she’s gathering her things, shoving them into her giant bag. She looks at me as she hitches the strap over her shoulder. Her smile is back. Only this time, after witnessing a few variations of it, I can spot the cracks.

There’s tightly furled grief. Icily controlled anger. Determination.

My gaze stays on her as she makes her way to the door. I want to say something, but I don’t. We’re all, in our own way, locked in compartmentalized codes of silence we dare not breach.

She opens the door, but pauses. “Your next appointment is tonight, but I suspect the boss will be in touch sooner than that. Enjoy your day.”

True to form, the moment I emerge from the shower twenty minutes later, I see the blinking green light on top of the dresser. I’m not exactly sure how the box moved from the living room into the bedroom, but I’ve stopped questioning the way things work in Q’s world. He probably has invisible elves hiding in the closet.

The thought is both disturbing and funny, and I chuckle as I switch the gadget on.

“Something funny?”

“Just bemused at the workings of your world.”

“Elaborate.”

My towel still wrapped around me, I hop into bed and sit cross-legged with the gadget in front of me. His voice emanates from speakers around the loft, but I feel our connection through the box. “Your little black box moved upstairs. I was debating whether leprechauns were at play or just modern technology.”

“It’s always been there. I just moved it into your line of sight.”

“Oh, right.”

“How are you this morning, Lucky?”

The question is couched in civility, but for some reason, I shiver. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to try that again?”

“I’m fine,” I stress. “You scared me last night, that’s all.”

“Your distress has been addressed. The content of your response hasn’t.”

“And it won’t be. That’s my business, Q. Please leave it alone.”

“Fionnella tells me you won’t leave the loft.”

“Fionnella needs to mind her own business too,” I respond, suddenly feeling decidedly less friendly toward my maternal minder. “Whether I go out or not should be my choice, surely?”

---