Page 64 of Total Exposure

The last time I saw Augustine we were in a large conference room, sitting in executive wingback leather chairs, glaring at each other from opposite sides of the table, silent, as our lawyers argued the finer points of splitting assets and money.

She had tears streaming down her face.

We were friends long before we were lovers, but the heavy cloud of anger and sadness hanging over that room was about as far from friendship two people can get.

I don’t blame her for any of it. She was a hundred percent innocent. She had no idea what really happened that night.

And she’ll never really know all of it because that whole deal was a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t kind of affair. Either way, I lose. So… whatever. Live and learn, I guess.

Now get dressed. You’re leaving the house today. Wear whatever you want. Cover up as much as you need to. But be ready at eleven thirty. I’ll have instructions waiting for you.

X

Well.

That was not what I expected.

Augustine? Who the hell is Augustine? His wife? Did they get a divorce? Sure sounds like it. But there’s a lot more to this story than he just told, that’s for sure. What happened to her? He did something, obviously. And what’s this got to do with Jordan and their little camera game?

“Hurry up and get ready.” The crackle of the intercom mixes with his words and makes me jump. “You’re going out.”

Out. Which I can only presume means… not the backyard. I look up at the nearest camera and say, “Isn’t it a little soon for that? I mean I’ve only been here two days. I don’t think—”

The intercom crackles with static. I wait for his voice. Hold my breath for several seconds. But it just goes dead again.

“I can only assume,” I say, “that was you telling me ‘too bad.’”

I stare down at his familiar handwriting on the note.

So… does this mean I will indeed meet the infamous Jordan today? Is that his plan? Will X send me somewhere so I can… watch him?

Am I a voyeur too?

Yes. I think I am. Because… because I’m going to get ready and do this. I’m going out.

I look down to hide my smile, because it sends a thrill up my spine. I don’t even know why. I don’t understand any of this. Nothing I’m doing at this house makes any sense at all. But the whole watching part. It’s exhilarating for some reason.

Maybe it’s because I’ve never had a chance to be the watcher. I was always the watched. I love standing at my window at home. Looking down on the people used to make me feel left out and sad, so I didn’t stay there long. But it was interesting in a way I never realized. I was always so consumed with what I was missing, never understanding that watching had something to offer as well.

And now?

I’m being watched. Constantly. With no way out unless I give up and leave. The thought of missing my comeback performance has been—so far—enough to keep me here. But it’s not going to be enough. Switching places though… watching might be enough to make me see this through.

If I give my watcher what he wants—total access to me, twenty-four seven—he’ll give me what I want. I didn’t realize it until he made his offer, but does that matter? What I’m going to do today—spy on someone, unaware of my watching eyes—is like a gift. And there might be another reward at the end of my day. Like last night.

“Thank you,” I murmur, taking the note with me as I head back upstairs. “I think this might be just what I need.”

I shower, dress in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black blazer. And then I bundle up in my coat, gloves, scarf, hat, and sunglasses. It’s a chilly twenty-three degrees today, cold enough to warrant covering up all the exposed parts of my body. But it’s not snowing. So still, I struggle with the idea of leaving the house. My instructions waiting downstairs are the only reason I’ve decided to go through with this.

There’s a note on the counter when I enter the kitchen at exactly eleven thirty. There’s a pamphlet as well.

I open the note and hold my breath as I read.

Evangeline,

The Denver Botanic Gardens is directly next door. I’ve left you a map to help find your way. Find the Tropical Conservatory. Grab a coffee at the cafe as you pass by. Inside the tropical greenhouse there’s a treehouse. Go to the top and look down until you see a bench with a bright orange bush blooming next to it. Wait there. Jordan takes his Sunday coffee in that spot every weekend. Do not approach him, talk to him, or get his attention in any way.

Just watch.