My arms ache from carrying everything from the car. I press the elevator button and shake out my hands, trying to ease the burning in my muscles.
“Need some help?”
I turn to find a woman coming to stand beside me. Maybe mid-forties, with graying blonde hair pulled into a messy bun and laugh lines around her eyes. She’s human; I can tell by the absence of that electric current shifters carry, the subtle charge that makes the air feel alive.
“Oh, that would be wonderful, actually. Thank you.”
She smiles warmly and bends to pick up three of the bags. “Moving in? Or throwing a party?”
“Party. I just moved in recently.” I grab the remaining four bags as the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
We step inside and set the bags at our feet. She presses a button, then glances at me. “Which floor?”
“Penthouse.”
Her eyes go wide. “The penthouse? Really?”
I shift uncomfortably. “Is something wrong?”
“No, no, nothing’s wrong. It’s just…” She laughs, shaking her head. “The rent is absolutely insane.”
My stomach does a weird flip. “Insane?”
“Twelve thousand a month.” She lets out a low whistle. “My husband and I looked at it when we first moved here, but there was no way we could afford it.”
Suddenly, I feel dizzy.
Twelve thousand.
I’m paying five hundred.
“Are you sure?” The words come out barely above a whisper. “Twelve thousand dollars?”
“Positive. I mean, it’s a gorgeous space, but that price…” She studies my face, confusion creeping into her expression. “You seem surprised. How much are they charging you?”
My mouth opens but nothing comes out.
“Oh, honey.” Her voice softens. “I hope the new management isn’t charging you more. That would be awful.”
“New management?”
“Yes, Arcer Holdings acquired the building about a week ago. Very suddenly. They’ve made a lot of changes already: fixed the elevators, installed better security systems, added cameras outside.” She fidgets with her purse strap. “Between you and me, I’m worried. When new ownership comes in and starts making all these improvements, it usually means they’re planning to jack up everyone’s rent. Or they want to drive out old tenants. Get new ones who’ll pay more.”
I stare at the elevator doors. My reflection stares back, pale andshocked.
“I’ve lived here for seven years,” she continues. “The idea of having to move is terrifying. Finding something affordable in this city? Nearly impossible.”
“I don’t think they intend to drive anybody out.” The words come out mumbled, automatic.
Arcer Holdings.
The name triggers a memory. I’ve seen it before. On reports at work. In files I’ve reviewed.
The company belongs to Darius.
The elevator reaches the woman’s floor. She doesn’t get out, though—just presses the button for the penthouse. “Let me help you get these bags upstairs first.”
“You don’t have to…”
