Dusk (Dangerous Web #1) - Aleatha Romig Page 0,52

feel like a no one.

From the night we first met, he treated me with love, respect, and sincerity. In the midst of some of the darkest times, he held my hand and lifted me up. My mind went to the other men in the tower—Mason, Sparrow, and Patrick.

I thought about the other things the woman had said, about Laurel and Araneae.

How could I dislike them for their upbringing?

Wouldn’t that be the same as if they disliked me for mine?

We all came from different backgrounds. That’s what made us stronger not weaker.

I may not have the degrees Laurel had, the business savvy Araneae had, or the ingenuity Madeline had, but I realized, sitting on the bunk by myself, that I had something that the awful woman didn’t have. I had friends. I had a family made out of love and respect. I would not give that up. I would not offer one of my friends as a sacrifice.

What the hell did she think this was?

It wasn’t Sophie’s Choice.

I peered around the room.

Clearly, I was at a disadvantage, but at that moment, I didn’t care.

I wouldn’t give up either of them.

Wrapping the blanket from the top bunk around me, I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes. I’d dream of safety and believe that Araneae was safe and that my safety was about to transpire.

There was no way to judge time. It was difficult enough while sleeping. Add no windows, no change in lighting, and no sense of day or night and the task was impossible.

Maybe ten minutes passed. Perhaps it was four hours or six. I didn’t know.

I woke with a start, sitting up near the wall, and pulling my knees to my chest. I’d slept long enough to fill my bladder. That could wait as the door was opening.

“Good morning, Lorna,” the woman said. Jet was at her heels, his arms crossed over his chest. “Time is up. I need your answer.”

Lorna

Nine years ago

With a blanket over my legs, I lay in the corner of our new sofa surrounded by colorful pillows as I read an out-of-print book I’d recently found at a secondhand shop, My Life as it Didn’t Appear. I’d been curious about it since I’d met the subject at a debutante party in New York. While I’d attended the party as a favor to Mason, that night proved pivotal in changing the course of my life.

Reading this book, I realized other people’s lives can turn on a dime too. It was hard to imagine that the beautiful woman I’d met was the same person who described being kidnapped by a wealthy man and taken to his home.

A knock on the door of our apartment pulled me from my reverie. A quick check of the clock told me that it was nearly nine at night. I had no idea of the particulars involved, but as soon as Reid and I finished dinner, he hurried back to 2. It was the floor between the apartments and 1, where our wedding took place.

It was where Reid spent an abundance of his time.

Laying the blanket on the sofa, I peered down at my blue jeans and shirt. I wasn’t dressed for company, but there were few options in this tower. I expected to open the door to find Patrick. It was my experience that Mr. Sparrow chose not to frequent this floor.

The knock came again.

“Coming,” I called as I hurried toward the door.

My breath caught and my neck straightened as I opened the door to be met by dark eyes and a foreboding expression. I’d been wrong. This wasn’t Patrick. With the exception of my wedding day, Sparrow had done his best to avoid speaking to me. “Mr. Sparrow? Reid isn’t here.”

“I know that. I found this in the kitchen of the penthouse,” he said, holding an envelope forward.

It was one I recognized right away. It was the one I’d found on Mason’s kitchen counter, the one filled with United States and British currency.

“Yes, sir, I wasn’t sure how to give it back to you.”

Sparrow took a step back into the common area and ran his free hand through his hair. When he looked back, his eyes were darker than before, filled with emotions I wasn’t certain I would—if I could—identify. From the way his body tensed, I didn’t think he wanted to acknowledge them either.

“We need to...we should talk.”

I held tightly to the door with one hand and the jamb with the other. Loosening my grip, I