Page 99 of Damsel in Disguise

Me: Can I visit you tomorrow?

Back to deafening silence.

I start pacing immediately, restless energy coiling tight beneath my skin. My eyes flick to the screen every few seconds, thumb hovering as if I can force a reply out of it.

Five minutes later, three dots appear.

My breath stills from anticipation.

They disappear.

I narrow my eyes.

They show up again. Pause. Vanish.

What the hell is he doing? Irritation crawls up my spine along with the seconds dragging into minutes.

Finally, my phone pings.

Adrian: You don’t sound like someone coming for a visit.

I freeze, yet my fingers move in a frenzy.

Me: Since when do you analyze my tone?

The reply comes faster this time.

Adrian: Since the day you started asking for things you don’t explain.

My lips press together—he’s not wrong, though.

Me: Can I visit you or not?

Three dots.

Gone.

Back again.

Is he deciding how much to say, or how much to hold back?

Adrian: I’ll send you my private jet.

I wait for one… five… ten minutes.

That’s it?

I drop my hand with a loud exhale. Whatever he wanted to say, he’s clearly not saying it over text. Fine. I can work with that.

Though I could’ve booked an emergency flight myself, I don’t have it in me to go through all the hassle. So why not indulge myself in the life of old money privilege every once in a while?

Maybe I’ll book a return flight instead?

I toss my phone onto the couch with a quiet thud and turn, rolling my shoulders to refocus.

Time to make myself useful. Even if that means tearing his entire office apart.

My calculating gaze sweeps across the room. Either I find anything that would help me climb down that window… or I hack into his MacBook and make use of whatever I can find there, which he left behind in haste.