JESSA
“Hello, Jessa,” he says coolly. “Long time no see.”
“Not long enough,” I manage to spit out. I glance around my apartment, trying to figure out if there’s anyone else here or if he came alone. “How did you get in?”
By the looks of it, he’s been here for a while. He’s relaxed, anyway, lounging in my favorite spot in front of the window.
I like having the sunlight on my face when I read. I like looking out the window and observing people going about their lives when I need to take a break from the page.
That is my damn spot.
And I hate that he looks so good sitting in it.
“Is that really the most important question you’d like to ask?” he asks.
“Do you have an alternative suggestion?”
“How about, ‘Why are you here, Anton’?”
I stare at him, second-guessing my plan of stashing the phone with Chris. If Chris gets dragged into this, it’ll be my fault. I can’t let that happen.
“You’re here to check up on me.”
His smile turns into a scowl. “Don’t get cute. It doesn’t suit you.”
“I’m not—”
“Why am I here, Jessa?”
“I have no idea,” I say, jerking my chin out at him defiantly.
He sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows against his knees. “I don’t have patience for games.”
“You’re in luck because I don’t have time for games,” I tell him. “I’m just keeping my head down and going about my life, just like I said I would. And in case you’re wondering: no, I haven’t told a soul about you or about what happened on that yacht.”
“Good to know,” he says. “Then you won’t mind handing me back the phone you stole from me that night.”
I can’t help but be proud of the confidence with which I say the next phrase. “What phone?”
“Jessa, Jessa, Jessa,” he tuts. “I thought I told you never to lie to me.”
I shrug. “It’s not my fault you misplaced your stuff.”
“Is that what happened?” he asks, pushing himself up and sauntering over to me. “You’re going to stick with that story?”
“It’s not a story.”
He regards me coolly. I can see by the light in his eyes, the clench in his jaw: he knows I have his phone. He’s just trying to figure out where it’s hidden.
“I must say, you seem remarkably calm for a woman whose home has just been broken into.”
“It’s not like I wasn’t expecting this visit,” I point out. “I’ve been mentally preparing for it since I got back.”
“I’m flattered.”
I roll my eyes and move around him, trying to look as unconcerned as I can. “Can I offer you something to drink?” I ask pleasantly. “I don’t have much. Orange juice, mostly. Coffee. Or I could make you a cocktail of bleach, if you’d prefer?”
He regards me with amusement. “Something alcoholic would be better.”