Page 58 of A Game of Deception
Ms. Connor covered the phone, her face cooling like a freezer door. “Dr. Swanson left over an hour ago, Mr. Mano. If you have a medical concern, schedule a proper appointment.”
Diego leaned against the doorframe, exactly where I’d stood. “It’s not urgent. Just wanted to ask her something... personal.”
The way he said “personal” made my teeth grind. His obsession with Tara was getting creepier by the day.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” Ms. Connor replied, ice-cold. “Dr. Swanson’s schedule and whereabouts aren’t something I discuss with players.”
Diego stiffened like he’d been slapped. “Fine. If you see her, tell her I was looking for her.”
“I will pass that along,” she said, in a tone that screamed “fuck off,” if such a sweet lady were to use the f-word. You go, Ms. Connor.
Diego hung around like a bad smell, then stormed off, stomping down the hall. I exhaled. Too fucking close. And his possessive tone about Tara just confirmed what a threat this asshole was.
I waited until Ms. Connor resumed her call, then snuck back to my spot by the door. When she hung up, I flashed an apologetic smile.
“Sounds like you’ve got your hands full with those travel plans.”
She sighed, returning to her computer. “It’s always something. Now, let’s update your emergency contact.”
I spent the next few minutes giving Leo’s details, playing along to sell my story. When we finished, I thanked her and walked out, strutting through the facility like I hadn’t just pulled off a heist.
Mission accomplished—I had Tara’s address. I passed the test. And that close call with Diego only cranked up my excitement for tonight.
1800 Meridian Avenueturned out to be a sleek, modern apartment building in South Beach. I circled the block once, familiarizing myself with the layout before parking my car a street over—less chance of being recognized that way.
Following Tara’s instructions, I approached from the rear of the building. Sure enough, there was a service entrance near a neatly organized recycling station. The door required a key fob for entry, but as I approached, a maintenance worker exited, holding the door open with unconscious courtesy. I nodded my thanks and slipped inside.
The service corridor led to a utility elevator, which I took to the eleventh floor. The hallway was quiet, lit by recessed lighting. 1102 was at the end of the hall, a corner unit.
I stood outside her door for a moment, gathering myself. This wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t even just about our complicated shared history. By seeking out her address, by accepting her unspoken challenge, I was agreeing to something deeper in whatever dangerous game we were creating together.
I raised my hand and gave three sharp raps against the polished wood.
Seconds ticked by, and then the door swung open. Tara stood there, dressed in a simple black tank top and yoga pants, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. The initial shock on her face was worth every moment of the day’s elaborate quest—pure, unguarded surprise that quickly morphed into something more complex: respect, desire, and a slow, impressed smile.
“You’re here,” she said, her voice betraying a hint of wonder. “How did you...?”
I grinned, leaning against the doorframe. “You said not to be late.”
She stepped back, gesturing for me to enter. “I did say that.”
I stepped into her apartment, taking in the sleek, minimalist design—clean lines, neutral colors, expensive furniture that looked barely used. It was exactly what I would have expected from Tara, yet there was something almost impersonal about it, as if it were a showroom rather than a home.
The door closed behind me, and suddenly the air between us was electric. We stood facing each other in her entryway.
“You didn’t ask me for my address,” she said, but there was no reproach in her tone, only a hint of admiration.
“I didn’t,” I agreed, taking a step toward her. “That wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting, would it?”
She matched my movements, closing the distance between us until we were inches apart. “How did you find me?”
“Let’s just say I have resources.”
“Team directory?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I followed you home.”
A smile played at the corners of her mouth. “Now that would be interesting. Stalking the stalker.”
