Chapter 15

David nods but doesn’t say anything else. He presses the console button again, lowering the screen, and I get the sense that he wants to wait until we’re both at his place. So, I don’t ask any questions. Yet.

Instead, I use the drive to think of the questions I really want answers to, and by the time he’s opening his front door, I have a list in my head.

David, of course, lives in a penthouse apartment. I walk in with astonishment, my brain desperately trying to process the sheer size and luxury of it—the paintings, the marble, and the oak surfaces.

I vaguely hear him rattling off some information as he puts my bags by the door—security cameras, guards, maid schedules, where the kitchen is—but I’m not really listening. I’m too busy walking through, my hands running over surfaces that probably cost thousands of dollars, my feet stepping on a wooden floor that is l