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Faye Sinclair walks out of my office and I can’t shake the feeling her whole visit held something more than I’m getting. With a sigh, I check my watch. I need to check in with Gran. I need to get to Zoey’s books soon. And then, I need to bring the next step into play.
I’m about to put the gift down when something stops me.
Guilt?
Curiosity?
I pull the paper off and dump it onto the desktop.
It’s a long, flat, light black leather box. I open it, and inside, is a key.
The key’s big, old fashioned, gold, with an intricate pattern engraved over it. The thing is beautiful, if you’re into that kind of thing, but what the living fuck does it mean?
A bauble? Something to put on display? Who knows. I put it back in its box and close the lid, setting it down on the desk.
I don’t have time for my mother’s convoluted gift. I’ll send her flowers and a thank you. I call through to my assistant and set that up.
Then, I grab my light coat to head out to the car I’ve got waiting.
I like details, so we head to Bushwick, to where I told Zoey Magnus Simpson has his apartment.
Once I’m inside, I grab a shower, and change into his clothes, jeans, T-shirt, sneakers, hoodie. The place is a studio and there isn’t much here. But that fits. I don’t intend to bring Zoey or anyone else here, but I’ve crashed a night or two, and if anything changes, if she wants to stop by, I have a place.
And then I’m ready to head out.
Inside my stomach is heavy and again, it’s got to be hunger. After all, there’s nothing to feel guilty about.
But there’s a part of me that can’t shake the feeling that if I was Magnus Simpson, I could bring her here. And there’s a part of me that wishes things were different.
They’re not.
And Zoey is a victim of circumstance, her place being in the wrong place for her. I know I wasn’t going to give a damn, but it’s hard not to. She’s so likable. Moreish. I’ll take care of her whether she wants it or not. And she’ll be better off without that eyesore. Without her having to scrounge her way through life.
My phone buzzes as I’m locking up.
“Amelia?”
“Hello, dear,” my fake gran says, “phase two is under way.”
It’s time to move.
Chapter Twenty
Zoey
The changes in the neighborhood are fast, even if they’ve been a long time coming. It’s Thursday and my mind is just overflowing with things. The rain that’s been threatening pours down in the late afternoon. It’s a slow day, with a few extra sales from people darting in to avoid the worst of the rain.
“Things change, Zoey,” Magnus says behind me as I look out the window from the little front display I’m meant to be redoing.
“I know. But it shouldn’t be because of a bully who wants to price people out.” The last of the boxes go into the moving truck double parked outside. The warning lights are a beacon that breaks the gray. “That’s the Abidi family moving out.”
His fingers slide slow along the zipper of my dress and I shiver from that light touch. “Perhaps on to better pastures.”
“Or further out, where commuting is a little more difficult for them.”
“It’s part of life.”
I stiffen a little at the barely-there words, but he softens them.
