Chapter Thirteen
Zoe
I wake from a nightmare, my body rigid and damp with sweat. I can’t remember the details, but I know someone was choking me, accusing me of betraying them. Beside me Connor’s sound asleep. I slide from the bed, not wanting to wake him.
I take my cell into the bathroom and close the door before turning on the light. I wet a washcloth with cool water and rub it over my throat and chest and then the back of my neck. I close my eyes and do a breathing exercise I use to calm my nerves before a show. It helps. My pounding heart slows to its normal slow beat.
The light on my phone is blinking blue. I’ve got several missed text messages.
There is one from Frank that he sent around midnight. It’s simple.I expect to see you tomorrow. Let me know when you’re coming by.He’s wanted to see me for days, and I’ve responded with how busy I am with rehearsals and plans with friends. Neither of us has mentioned Connor McCann. I’m sure Frank’s heard by now that Connor’s taken me back and forth to the theater. If I don’t go to see Frank, how will I explain that later? Say that Connor wouldn’t let me? Admit that I’d become involved with Connor and didn’t feel comfortable visiting Frank because I didn’t want to admit that to him?
There’s also a string of texts from Dennis, who’s pushing to get together. The first texts say he wants to take me out to celebrate the show. In the most recent ones, he asks me outright if I’m all right. He wants me to call him. We’re not together and, from C’s account, it sounds like Dennis’s behavior is suspect, but shouldn’t I give an ex-lover the benefit of the doubt until I talk to him myself?
I feel guilty for not responding, but I’m not sure what to say. Be vague and tell him everything’s fine? Would he believe it if I sent that message in a one-line text? Because that’s what I’d have to do. I don’t want to talk to him on the phone and lie, or worse, have to get into a long honest conversation about where I’ve been.
A big part of the reason I gave for breaking up with Dennis was that he wanted to work for Frank Palermo and I didn’t want to be involved with a guy in a crime syndicate. Now I’m sleeping with the man Frank mentored. How could I possibly defend that choice? How could I even explain it? With the truth? Am I going to admit that there’s something about Connor McCann that I can’t resist? Am I going to admit that despite the kinky things he does—or maybe even because of them—I crave his hands on my body?
I take a deep breath.
What are you doing, Zoe? Is this the life you want?
I close my eyes and shake my head. I’ve already seen what things with Connor will be like. He’ll expect to control everything, including me.
I extinguish the phone’s light and flick off the bathroom light. I open the door and wait for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I pad silently across the floor, grabbing my tote and overnight bag.
I tiptoe out of the room, closing the door behind me. I’m as quiet as possible as I descend the stairs. I find the downstairs bathroom nearest to the front door and dress in jeans and a sweatshirt. I try to remember where my coat is. I think I left it in the media room. I’ll need it if I plan to stand outside in the cold waiting for an Uber.
I put my boots and socks next to the front door and head down the wide hall to the media room. There’s light coming from under the door. I pause. Is Trick or Anvil inside watching a movie? I wouldn’t expect it to be Anvil unless he’s keeping an eye on the house. C said Anvil has his own apartment behind the house. Trick doesn’t live in the compound, so he’s the more likely candidate to be hanging out in the main house, I guess.
I bite my lip. My coat’s probably still lying on a chair that’s right next to the door. There’s a large media tower of electronics that could shield me from sight. Beyond it, there are a few steps leading down to a series of couches with built-in recliners. The entire far wall acts as the screen for the projector that’s built into the ceiling. There are no windows, only a few fancy sconces. It’s like a personal screening room for someone who can afford movie mogul luxe.
It’s three in the morning. Whoever was watching the movie might even be asleep with something still running. I don’t hear anything. Of course, the walls are reinforced to dampen sound. It’s a cave of a room.
I remind myself there’s no way I can go outside without a coat, which is what finally decides things. I open the door. My brows rise at the sound. There’s whimpering and the crack of something—a belt? I immediately flash back to bending over the couch at Slattery’s.
I bite my lip. Someone’s watching porn.
None of my business.But of course I’m super curious.
I see my coat and press my lips together. The chair’s farther in than I realized. I flatten myself against the wall and slide along it, extending a hand. If I can just reach it while most of my body is shielded from view by the tower, I’ll be in and out with no one the wiser.
