And then, a sound that makes my blood run cold reaches my ears.
Footsteps.
Real, deliberate footsteps, each one louder than the last.
Panic grips me as I fumble for the drive. My movements are too slow, my hands clumsy as adrenaline surges through me.
“Rosie?”
The voice, his voice, freezes me mid-motion. My pulse hammers, drowning out everything else, as I yank the USB free and shove it into my purse.
Fifty-eight.That’ll have to be close enough.
The door swings open, and Nicholas’s broad frame fills the space. His eyes zero in on me, scrolling through surprise and confusion before landing firmly on suspicion. His expression darkens as his gaze moves from me to the room, over the desk, the laptop, and back to me, standing frozen in the middle of it all.
“What are you doing, Rosie?”
Fuck.
