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My eyes shot to his, and he looked pained.

“Emily, my body’s not here,” he murmured.

I sank back down to the floor, disappointment and disbelief clouding my head.

“Say something,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“How… how did you die?”

“You really want to know?”

I nodded.

He sank with grace onto the floor opposite me, crossing his long legs and regarding me gravely. Peering through his long lashes, his eyes were clouded with dark thoughts. With his tousled hair framing his face and falling into his eyes, he was heart-stoppingly beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

For a moment, he glanced around the room—and I wondered if he’d changed his mind about talking. But then he began, his voice soft and lost in his memories.

“It’s like it happened yesterday. I’d recently returned from a holiday with my folks and I was back at work. I remember coming home from a shoot. I was working as a runner on a low-budget feature, and I was standing about here reading an outright order.” He pointed down where he was sitting with both his index fingers.

“Outright order?”

“It’s an eviction notice to get us all out of here. The son of a bitch’s lawyers sent it.”

“Oh.”

By son of a bitch, did he mean Dylan?

“Anyway, after one hell of a week at work, I was exhausted and it was the first evening I’d had off in six days. It was late. It was weird, but as I entered and looked around my room, I knew someone had been in here and had fucked with my stuff.” He stopped and his eyes widened with insight. “Shit,” he breathed, and his expression turned to horror.

“You don’t have to tell me if the memory’s too painful,” I whispered.

“It’s not that, Emily. The guy, the intruder.”

“The man who tried to break in yesterday?”

“Yes. Was that yesterday?”

“It was. What about him?”

“That was Pete. He was mates with one of the guys who used to live here. He used to crash here now and then. I didn’t recognize him. He’s lost weight, grown his hair, bleached it, and he no longer has a beard.”

I gasped. “What?”

There was a tap on the door, and Dylan popped his head around. “Right, Emily, are you ready?”

“Um…” I looked from Dylan to Tristan.

“What is it?” Dylan asked.

“Nothing.”

“I’d better go, Emily. Watch yourself.” Tristan leaned closer and gazed anxiously into my eyes. I caught his delicious, concentrated scent and leaned toward him. “Be careful,” he whispered, his lips close to mine. And then he disappeared.

Tristan! You haven’t finished telling me about what happened!