Toxic - Zoe Blake Page 0,4

my too-long skirts. Feeling my cheeks burn, I squeezed my eyes shut as I waited for the lift doors to open. The moment they did, I clambered inside.

It took several tries for my shaking fingers to punch in the correct code. Each time I entered the wrong number sequence, I expected to hear an alarm sound as the interior of the elevator flashed with red strobe lights and some robotic voice boomed ‘intruder, intruder.’

Finally, the small chamber vibrated as the elevator moved upward.

Twisting the fabric of my dress between my nervous hands, I tentatively walked out of the elevator and down the softly lit hallway as I scanned the eighth floor looking for flat C. After turning a corner, I spotted it.

I raised my arm to knock.

Then lowered it.

Leaning forward, I pressed my ear to the cold black metal door but could hear nothing.

Taking a deep breath, I once more raised my arm and knocked. At first, I knocked too faintly and after waiting a few moments, I pounded my fist against the door.

The light under the door shifted as someone approached.

Was that the heavy footfall of Richard?

I couldn’t tell.

My head swam as I held my breath.

The scratch of metal against metal sounded as a latch was drawn free.

The doorknob turned.

As the door swung open, a flood of light blinded me from the windows and shrouded a figure in shadow.

The moment my eyes adjusted, I cried out before falling into their waiting arms.

Chapter 3

Lizzie

“What a fun surprise!” Looking over my shoulder into the empty hallway, she asked, seemingly innocently, “Is Richard with you?”

Jane looked… different.

Although she used to say we were the same size as she borrowed my clothes, the truth was Jane was an inch taller and just slightly more curved around the hips. So, try as she might, she always looked like she was wearing someone else’s wardrobe. Judging by her fresh look, apparently Jane had come into some significant money.

The white lace and ruffled boho blouse she was wearing was from her favorite designer, Hedi Slimane. It was easily a couple thousand pounds and tailored to fit her. A pair of Hedi Slimane jeans and a gold charm necklace with matching earrings completed the look.

Jane looked every inch as if I had just casually interrupted her Saturday afternoon brunch plans.

I wasn’t buying it.

“Come in! Let’s catch up.” She fingered a limp ruffle on my bodice. “What on earth are you wearing, sweetie? I thought Prince Charming was dressing you better these days.”

Having no energy to respond, I left her embrace and stepped into the flat. Everything was very chic… and expensive looking. The only things I recognized were our canvas prints of Audrey, Marilyn, and Brigitte.

Then I saw my birdcage.

Crossing swiftly over to it, I put my fingers through the gold bars and stared at the potted plant inside. My finches were gone.

My throat tightened as my vision blurred. “Are Dior and Coco dead?”

Jane scoffed as she crossed the open loft space to the black marble-topped kitchen island. “Don’t be silly! They’re fine. Don’t you remember? You asked me to take them over to your and Richard’s place in Mayfair. Those two little feathered bastards are living like royalty in that massive bamboo cage Richard got for them.”

I didn’t remember, but that wasn’t surprising. There was a lot I couldn’t remember… or wasn’t supposed to remember.

Turning back to face her, I glanced around the room, taking in the sleek black leather sofa with its outrageous pink feather throw pillows. Suddenly I longed to plump down on the stained, secondhand pull-out sofa from our old place.

Letting my skirts drag across the grey maple hardwood flooring, I confronted Jane.

“What the hell is going on?”

Her hands twitched as she gathered various bits of mail and fashion magazines and shuffled them into a pile. “What do you mean?”

Slamming my hands down on the counter to get her attention, I raised my voice. “Cut the crap, Jane. I want to know if he involved you in all the lies.”

Avoiding my gaze, Jane turned and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of expensive-looking white wine. “It’s still early but you look like you could use a drink.” Reaching into a cabinet, she pulled free two wineglasses and filled them before pushing one across the marble counter to me.

“I thought you were dead,” I murmured, as I traced the foot of the wineglass with my finger. I didn’t want to look up into her eyes. Somehow I felt it would sting less if