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I, Porn Star(35)

By:Zara Cox


He stares at me in tight-lipped silence for a full minute. Then he nods. “I wanted to personally let you know that Krakov expects first class treatment today. He mentioned the last time he was here, you seemed a little…off.”

My skin wants to turn itself inside out. I barely manage to hold it together. “I…didn’t feel well. I think I was coming down with a virus.”

“I explained something to that effect, but he’s the customer, after all. Since you’re feeling better today, I think we should go the extra mile to keep him happy, don’t you?”

A boulder lodges in my throat. “W—what do you mean?”

“I mean, we can start off by meeting his plane when it lands shortly before two. We’ll begin to wine and dine him almost as soon as his feet touch the ground and we’ll continue to do everything in our power to make sure his experience is unforgettable. Can I rely on you to achieve that?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Be dressed and downstairs at quarter to two. Ridge will drive you to the airstrip in the limo.”

On the one hand, I’m two seconds away from emptying the bare contents of my stomach at the thought of going anywhere near Edward Krakov. On the other, I’m giddy with relief that this summons isn’t to question me about the documents I took from his safe two days ago.

I nod and hightail it to the door. I grasp the handle, taste elusive freedom.

“Oh, one more thing, Lucky.”

My heart drops to the soles of my battered boots. I hold my breath, clench my features to neutral and turn.

“My security systems shows my passcode was accessed after hours two nights ago. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

A touch of confused surprise. The minute gathering of a frown. Then mild affront. I’ve practiced it in the mirror a thousand times. “Of course not.” No inflection on any vowel. A perfect, terror-steeped, delivery.

The gold-plated ball pen in his hand rocks back and forth. Back and forth, as he watches me. Eventually, he nods.

“Okay. That’s all.”





12



CONTINUITY



I jerk awake, my racing heart on fire, a silent scream locked in my throat. Two nightmares in one night is a record even for me. The first one is now chillingly familiar—the sight of Ridge’s face when I shot him through the chest and watched the life leave his eyes as he dropped dead in Clayton’s office.#p#分页标题#e#

The second one is new. It’s the kind of dream I hate. The one that starts with joy and the blindingly effervescent promise of happy-ever-after, and ends with you poised on the edge of some craggy ravine, knowing in your bones you’re about to fall to your death.

It’s clear that the ghosts of future past and present don’t intend to leave me alone tonight, so I drag my fingers through my hair, resign myself to insomnia and slide out of bed.

The moment I rock up to a standstill, I’m hit with another bout of overwhelming disbelief.

The room I’m standing in is bigger than the great room Fionnella’s team uses in the Midtown apartment. In fact, it takes up three quarters of the whole floor of the loft. According to Fionnella, this is the smallest loft in the complex where she delivered me after my breakdown six short hours ago. Despite having lived in a mansion of The Villa’s proportions, I still find it difficult to wrap my mind around this place…this space…being all mine, at least for the next few weeks.

Provided Clayton doesn’t find me first.

The under floor heating warms my feet as I wander around the bedroom.

True to his word, Q has come through in helping me.

The Hell’s Kitchen property is fully furnished, central heated, and more importantly, stocked to the gills with food, wine and delicacies, some of which I’ve never heard of, never mind tasted.

I walk across the mezzanine floor to the railing that overlooks the cavernous space below. Contemporary furniture and an extensive entertainment center divide the living room from the dining area, with expensive looking potted plants interspersed with paintings and eclectic pieces of art. The kitchen is a gourmand’s dream, and I get the feeling I won’t be brave enough to touch half of the gadgets in there.

After Fionnella’s departure, I left a few lights on to brighten the darker corners. I’m not afraid of the dark, but I have more than enough to be jumpy about. I’d rather not add shadows in dark corners to the list of things to be concerned about.

Leaving the bedroom, I make my way slowly down the stairs, then just stand in the middle of the living room and stare around me.

Who is this guy?

Q…