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“Here.”
She looked up and took the chilled water and aspirin from the guard. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She swallowed the pills and half the bottle before she set it on the empty seat beside her. “What’s your name?”
“You can call me Mo.”
“And where are you from?”
“Turkey.”
She nodded and looked at the pale one by the door. “And you?”
“Johan.”
“And you’re from?”
“Denmark.”
Interesting. “How long have you been with Roth?”
“Going on four years.”
She nodded and watched the faces of the people passing the waiting room. Their faces were pinched with stress and worry. After spending a week in a hospital watching over her father, she wasn’t happy to be back. The dour mood was the same in every hospital.
“I’m sorry about your father.”
Her gaze went back to the guards who were watching her closely. She inclined her head. “Thank you.”
She didn’t remain sitting long. Not when her ass, thighs, and pussy were swollen and aching. She paced, fingers itching for a pen. Writing was her yoga. It kept her sane, organized her thoughts, and helped escape reality when it was too much for her to handle. She wanted to get lost in a story where the character’s world made sense, and she was in control. After spending most of her life following everyone’s rules, writing was the one place she was free.
A woman wearing a white parka with a fur-lined hood caught her eye. She was sure the woman wasn’t a local, and it had more to do with her exotic looks than the designer bag on her shoulder. She had beautiful dark skin with a scarlet lip and dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. The woman looked through the glass, stopped in her tracks, and then beamed. Jasmine looked behind herself to make sure the woman was looking at her. The woman opened the door, pushed the guards aside, and strode up to her with her hand outstretched and wearing a megawatt smile. Good manners forced her to shake the woman’s hand without knowing who the hell she was.
“I’m Sarai, a huge fan,” the woman said, dark brown eyes sparkling.
She glanced at the guards and then back at Sarai. “Uh, okay.”
Sarai leaned forward and winked. “Thalia.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “You’re his assistant?” she guessed.
“Yes.”
She didn’t know how to react. This woman was a fan of her work and had given her books to Roth so he could discover that his ex-wife wrote an erotic series based on their relationship. This woman knew more about her than her own family. She withdrew her hand and nodded.
“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked.
Sarai reached into her pocket. “Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you? We should be leaving in about fifteen minutes.”
She gave her a tight smile. “See, that’s the problem. I don’t want to leave in fifteen minutes. I want to make my own way back to New York.”
Sarai paused in the middle of handing the phone over and hid it behind her back. “Roth gave explicit instructions.”
“His instructions don’t affect me.” She held out her hand. “I want to make my own arrangements.”
Sarai gave her a blinding, professional smile. “He should be available shortly to speak to you about your concerns.”
