Page 220

Also accurate.

Colston's penthouse is too nice to be temporary and too temporary to be home. I've spent the last three nights in his guest room sleeping badly, waking up angry, and moving through my days with the kind of flat, mechanical focus that makes people think I'm functioning when really I'm just delaying collapse with caffeine and spite.

My briefcase is on the kitchen island.

The invitation from Gabriel is still inside it.

I still haven't sent it.

That alone should tell me everything I need to know about how badly I'm handling any of this.

Levi is at the counter making coffee when my phone rings.

Christian.

My pulse kicks once. Hard enough to hurt.

I answer before the second ring.

"Tell me."

There's a pause on the other end.

"She didn't sign."

I'm already on my feet before I register what that means.

"What?"

"She came in, looked at the papers, and refused." His tone is careful in the way it gets when he knows I'm one wrong word away from doing something reckless. "I told her to take them home and think about it. She took them. She hasn't signed."

Relief hits first.

Hot. Immediate. Sharp enough to make me angry at myself for feeling it.

"Why not?"

Christian is quiet for half a beat too long.

"There's something else."

Every muscle in my body tightens.

"What."

"Everly called me this morning. Aria left for the airport three days ago. The papers are on the kitchen counter at the estate. Unsigned."

The room narrows.

"Where did she go?"

"Cannes."

Fuck.

For one second, my vision goes strange at the edges. Not black. Not exactly. Just that familiar tightening, and then my body deciding oxygen is suddenly optional.

Not now.