I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He feels like a completely different person. Someone capable of all sorts of horrible things.
Like, oh, I dunno… murdering his wife.
The thought pushes into my consciousness and once it latches on, it refuses to leave. I sit there, fighting a growing sense of foreboding.
The moment we arrive back at the mansion, Anton is out of the car and moving into the house. I follow him in, but I have no sense of what’s expected of me anymore. Are we still ‘friends’? a little voice in the back of my head asks pathetically.
“Jessa.”
I flinch when he says my name.
“Go upstairs and rest,” he says.
Then, without further explanation, he turns and disappears down the hall.
I stand there, staring after him, wondering what the hell could have changed his mood so damn fast.
Sighing, I turn towards the stairs. But I linger at the bottom for some reason. And when I hear voices coming my way, I act on instinct. I duck into the first room I see.
I wait for the voices to pass, but then they stop outside the door.
“Fuck me,” I whisper desperately to myself as I look around the room in a panic.
I try to find another way out of here, but the only door is the one I just walked through. There’s just one place to hide—behind the large bar that takes up almost a quarter of the room.
I rush behind it just as the door opens and I hear the shuffling of feet. I get on my hands and knees and inch closer to the side opening of the bar. I’m low enough that I think I can see without being seen.
It brings back a strong sense of déjà vu. I remember the last time I peeked in on a meeting I was not supposed to be a part of.
And just like that, the nausea is back.