Page 32 of The Voicemail

Alex stands in the doorway. His eyes move over me, taking in my bare feet, my leggings, the cardigan pulled tight around me, the guilt I’m sure is written all over my face.

“Were you looking for something?” he asks.

I lift my chin. “No,” I say. “I was just on my way to the kitchen.”

He nods but his eyes darken. Luca appears behind him, sees me, and immediately looks like he wishes he were elsewhere. Exactly how I feel.

“I’m thirsty,” I say, scurrying away.

I can’t explain why I suddenly feel so uncomfortable. Something has shifted. I pour myself a drink in the kitchen, then settle on the couch, because I can’t stand my room for one more minute. A few minutes later, Alex sits down beside me.

“Sorry if I was short with you earlier,” he says. “Luca was briefing me on some security matters.”

I just nod, unable to form a coherent response. I still feel off in a way I can’t quite name.

“If you heard anything in there⁠—”

“I didn’t,” I lie.

He nods quickly, though it’s clear from his face that he doesn’t believe me.

“I just heard someone call you Alessandro,” I say quickly. “I mean, I think. I really was just passing by, so I could have misheard.”

Something flickers in his eyes. It’s gone almost immediately.

“No, that’s what you heard,” he says carefully. “That’s my given name.”

“Oh, okay.” I shrug, pretending like I don’t care, even though I’m filing it away under the few small things I actually know about him.

“Elena,” he says carefully. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” I lie.

He raises an eyebrow at me and crosses his arms, clearly not believing me.

“Fine,” I groan. “It’s just that I’ve been here for a week, and I literally don’t know anything about you. Apparently, your name is Alessandro, not Alex? And people just come and meet with you at all hours of the night. And you have a really scary angry voice.”

He smirks at that. “My voice isn’t scary.”

“No, not usually,” I amend. “Just, sometimes when you’re talking to people in your office. Who are, weirdly, no longer here.”

“They took the service elevator.”

“Of course they did,” I answer.

“What is it you really want to know, Elena?” he asks finally.

“Where would I even start?” I ask. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about you.”

“You know me,” he argues.

“No,” I say. “I don’t. You just showed up at my door one night and you’ve completely taken over my life. I know you own a security company and you’re apparently very rich. Apart from that, I don’t know you at all.”

His jaw tightens and he shifts away from me, his posture going rigid.

“If you don’t trust me, you should have said that. I can arrange for you to stay somewhere else.”

“I didn’t say that.” I sigh. “I do trust you, I just don’t know you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me so far, but I feel like everyone else is in on some joke and I’m the punchline.”