Swallowing the bitter taste in my mouth, I knew, deep down, I had no choice but to play this out. I was a pawn in Richard’s twisted game. I could try to make a run for it down the street, but I knew he would only find another way to manipulate me into doing his bidding. I might as well obey the rules of my game piece and enter the building. It was, after all, what Richard wanted of me.
Clenching my stomach to stop my body from trembling, I took a few steps forward. Several people cast strange looks at me as they passed, before quickly forgetting all about me and my odd Victorian attire as they continued on with their lives.
The glass door swung open and a tall gentleman impeccably dressed in a Dolce & Gabbana black cashmere polo and double-pleated trousers stepped through.
My heart stopped as I willed my eyes to look up past his shoulders… into a pair of lackluster brown eyes.
It wasn’t Richard.
My traitorous heart sank.
Forcing the feeling away, I shyly nodded my thanks as he held the door open. Crossing over the threshold, I felt the clammy chill of air conditioning as I walked into the spacious lobby. The interior was very modern. Decorated with black wrought-iron and accents of white and yellow.
A slim woman with white-blonde hair pulled relentlessly back into a tight bun at her nape descended the black spiral staircase to the right. Her eyes traced my appearance from head to toe. Her lips tightened with disapproval before she asked in sharp, clipped tones, “May I help you?”
Self-consciously grabbing the knotted ends of my hair and twisting them into order over my shoulder, I cleared my throat before saying, “I’m here to see a friend in flat 8C.”
Without taking her cold, grey eyes off me, she raised one unnaturally thin arm and gestured to the right. “The lifts are over there. Press in the code 461 to gain access to the eighth floor.”
Smoothing the front of my bodice down with my right hand, I forgot I was still clutching the letter opener from my altercation with Richard. The woman’s narrow, pencil-drawn eyebrow raised as her eyes caught sight of the sharp, tarnished object.
Defiantly tilting my chin up, I breezed past her. Unfortunately, I ruined the effect when I stumbled over 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 she didn’t lie directly to my face. When Richard had instructed Jane to bring a message to his henchman Harris, I was certain it had meant he would have had her killed for trying to talk sense to me.
“Dead? What a dramatic imagination! I think you’re taking your role a little too seriously.”
“Did you know? What was happening to me?”
Jane’s fingers dug into my upper arm as she dragged me over to the sofa. Her eyes darted about the room as if she were worried someone was overhearing our conversation. Her voice sounded high and brittle as she forced a casual tone. “What do you mean? Did I know you landed a handsome, uber-rich duke who loved you to distraction and was making all your dreams come true? Yeah, of course. I’m jealous as hell.”