Page 52 of Psychotic Faith
The elevator dings. Thirty-second floor.
Something's wrong the moment the doors open. The reception area feels too quiet, air too still. Cheryl, Neumann's assistant, is shoving files into her bag with barely controlled panic, her usual professional smile nowhere to be found.
"Mr.Neumann is ready for you," she says, already backing toward the elevator, refusing to meet my eyes. "He said to go right in."
"Aren't you staying?" My voice sounds normal despite the alarm bells shrieking in my head. "For the notes?"
"He dismissed me early." She practically jumps into the elevator. "Said you two needed privacy to discuss… sensitive matters."
The elevator doors close on her frightened face, and suddenly I understand. She knows something. Maybe not what, but enough to run.
Through the glass doors, I can see Neumann at his desk, watching me with an expression that makes my skin crawl. Not the patronizing businessman who tolerates the helpful librarian. Something else. Something that reminds me of all those years ago, of watching through that gap under the couch.
My hand finds my phone, needing the anchor. One text to Luca and he'd come. He'd paint these walls with Neumann's blood before I could even scream. The thought shouldn't make me hot, but my body doesn't care about shouldn't anymore.
I force my shoulders back, paste on my harmless librarian smile, and push through the doors.
The lock clicks behind me. Deliberate. Final. Trapped.
I spin, hand testing the handle. Locked from inside. "The door…"
"Privacy." Neumann doesn't look up from whatever he's studying. "We need to discuss something rather delicate, Faith."
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it. Each beat seems to echo: he knows, he knows, he knows.
"Please, sit." He gestures to the chair across from his desk, but every instinct screams to stay by the door, to keep my escape route in sight.
"I should mention, I have library duties this afternoon. Story time at three." The lie burns my tongue, copper mixed with fear and the phantom memory of Luca's tongue in my mouth.
"Story time." He finally looks up, and his eyes are bright with something that makes bile rise in my throat. "How dedicated you are. How much time you spend with children. With families. With my family."
He stands, moving around the desk with deliberate slowness. My body remembers this feeling from Saturday night, butdifferent. Where Luca's hunting made me burn, Neumann's makes my skin try to crawl off my bones.
"My wife thinks you're wonderful. My children adore you." He's coming closer, each step measured. "The library board thinks highly of you too. Did you know I'm their biggest donor?"
"You've been very generous to the library." My voice sounds thin, reedy.
"Have I?" He's close now, supposedly reaching for a file from the cabinet beside me, but his body cages me against the door. His cologne fills my lungs until I can't breathe. "Twenty million last year alone. That funded your entire children's wing renovation. Your salary, technically, comes from my foundation."
His hand comes up. I flinch hard, my body remembering other hands, but he just touches my face with devastating gentleness, thumb tracing the curve near my eye.
"You're very beautiful, Faith. Too beautiful to be hiding behind library desks."
"Mr.Neumann, I should go—"
"I could make things happen for you." His thumb moves to my lower lip. "Head librarian position opens up next year. With my recommendation, you'd be the youngest head librarian in the city's history."
"I'm happy where I am."
"Are you?" He leans closer, his other hand finding my waist. "Or are you just afraid of taking what you want? I see how you look at me during board meetings. How you find excuses to attend every fundraiser."
I try to step sideways but he moves with me, keeping me trapped. "I attend for the library—"
"The library." His laugh is soft, knowing. "Let's discuss the library then. Did you know funding reviews are next month?The board tends to follow my recommendations. Shame if the children's program budget got… reallocated."
The threat is clear. Submit or watch everything I've built disappear.
"One drink," he continues, his hand sliding from my waist to my hip. "Tonight. The Ritz Carlton, their bar is very discrete. We can discuss your future properly."
