Page 63 of The Donor’s Dilemma

Taking the key out, he turned to her, surveying her flannel pyjamas with a smirk.

“I was cosy,” she said.

He nodded. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

They climbed the service stairs up to his apartment. The first time she visited Horsham House she thought the place looked like a show room, some stately home done up for a photo shoot, but as she kicked her boots off, she began to feel more at home there.

“You like lasagna?” he asked, throwing his keys in a bowl by the door and heading for the kitchen.

“You’re gonna make me lasagna?” she asked, hopping into a stool at the island.

“Enzo Romano made us lasagna,” he said, reading from a box he pulled from the fridge. “I’m just heating it up.”

“A man makes me dinner, and I get a microwave meal,” she teased.

“Nope,” he said, opening the box and tapping the foil tray. “It goes in the oven.”

“Same thing,” she snorted, but her stomach gurgled, giving her away. Lasagna did sound good.

Theo turned on the oven and poured her some water before disappearing to get changed. When he returned, he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, though he somehow still made them look smart.

He shrugged when she quirked an eyebrow. “What? Are you the only one allowed to be… cozy?”

They chatted about work as the food cooked, Theo insisting that his day had been boring and asking about Verity’s Ostara plans. Everything was going well, vendors confirmed, activities set, schools eager to take part. He beamed as she got carried away, explaining all the little issues she hadn’t anticipated.

“The police have said that I need to change the layout to keep emergency routes clear, but they aren’t being very helpful with which roads count as emergency routes,” she explained.

“Sounds about right,” Theo said, checking on the food. “Grab the diary out of my briefcase, I’ll give you the commissioner’s number. Tell him I told him to help.”

Verity jumped down and found the briefcase, popping it open to find the diary. Pulling out the leather binder her eye caught on the pages underneath. A newspaper article, a few in fact, about Cliffhaven, the town that had been quarantined after an outbreak of Hesperian flu.

“What are these for?” she asked, holding out the articles.

Looking up from serving dinner, Theo rolled his eyes.

“Nothing,” he said a little too quickly and Verity frowned, setting the diary down and reading one of the articles. She was wrong, it wasn’t about Cliffhaven, it was from Cliffhaven, a few weeks before the outbreak.

“Really, Verity,” Theo said, setting the spatula down and reaching for the articles. Verity pulled them back.

“If it’s nothing then I can look. Stop being weird,” she said, reading; it was about anti-donor protests. “You know I’ll only look them up when I get home.”

Another article was about a missing woman and one about a missing man, then a couple about robberies and curfews. They were all by the same reporter, Di Campbell. Verity had never heard of her. She glanced up at Theo who watched her.

“What are they for? All hidden in your briefcase like that. And don’t lie to me; if you’re not going to tell me, just say so.”

“They weren’t hidden. I keep things in my briefcase; that’s kind of the point of having it.”

He scowled at her and went back to serving up the food. “I don’t even know. They were given to me with some reports. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Worry about what?” He was really starting to piss her off. “I didn’t say I was worried, so you think it’s worth worrying about?”

“Phoenar, help me,” he mumbled.

“So, what do you know? You’re saying you don’t know but you know enough to not want to talk about it.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Theo?” She pouted. He was hiding something, she could practically smell it on him.