Lila

She breathed everything out and turned, biting her lip against the tears that immediately sprang up to blur her vision.

​​

A few steps in, she stood on the spot where they sat on the floor that night when things had been so crazy. She could see him there, folded onto the floor with his long arms and legs, the way he'd sat back with his head against the wall and she'd sat between his knees. Swallowing tears, she walked through the massive living room, stroking the back of the huge leather sectional where they'd curled up that one time and he'd pulled her into his chest. The same place she'd sat and watched him work when he was under such intense stress… and then he proposed.

Turning away from that memory and all it raised, she walked through to the bedroom.

Either Dane had been rage-cleaning, or housekeeping had been through since she was taken, because the bed was perfectly made. But what caught her eye first was the window where he'd stood that first night after the wedding, when she'd woken up to find him there and calming himself by watching the city lights. Where she'd gone and put herself in front of him. Where they'd argued, then he'd stopped her from storming out and…

She shivered and hugged herself. Would she ever feel his arms again? His warmth.

Please, God… she pleaded silently.

She'd decided to ignore everything, to force herself to concentrate, to get some rest, then then start working, when she passed the nightstand and saw the picture of Talia that he'd always looked at with affection.

And in front of it…

Her heart went cold.

In front of it was the heavy gold ring John had given him for their wedding, and Dane's cellphone.

Lila sucked in hard. How? Why hadn't anyone picked it up? Or had they? Was it… had someone maybe opened it… changed something?

She ran to the little table and picked up the phone, then looked around as if someone might be there, looking over her shoulder. Realizing how stupid she was being, she put the phone in her pocket and thought things through.

She needed to get to the apartment and get her old phone. And the burner phone, if it was still there. She needed to see if Dane had left any clues, or sent any messages.

She needed to feel closer to him, but she knew she couldn't know—couldn't know for sure it hadn't been tampered with. That it wasn't a trick. And yet, it would be just like Dane to just leave it here for her…

Swearing under her breath, frustrated with her own inability to see all the angles, she darted back through the penthouse, ignoring the call to stop and remember, until she reached the fireplace, found the little button that would release it, and pushed inside, pulling it closed behind her in case anyone came in.

She jogged down the stairs, her teeth clenched against the pain in her side, and ran as fast as she was able across to the apartment. But her heart sank, because as soon as she was on the bridge she could see that the apartment door was open. It hadn't been secure—or someone had already been inside.

All Dane's warnings about not trusting anyone, about how these people laid traps, echoed in her head as she stepped careful up to the door, peering inside without touching it, listening, but the city noise around her didn't let her hear any small noises inside.

Did she trust it?

Would they have left it like this to trap her somehow?

Or had Douglas simply not closed it when he grabbed her?

She had to make a decision.

And in the end, she couldn't. So she did what she wanted to do and walked inside.

*****

Her phone was still in the safe. And the burner phone was still on the couch, though she couldn't remember if that's where she'd left it, or if someone might have moved it.

She hesitated, at first, about touching them. Were they evidence? Did she need to protect them? But no… she couldn't trust anyone. And there might be…

Swallowing hard she'd tried to turn the burner phone on, but the battery was dead, so she grabbed the charger and put everything else back the way it had been, and left, leaving the apartment untouched—even leaving the door open the way it had been when she arrived. She now had four phones and a cord, and for a moment she was so flustered, she just stood there, looking at herself. Where was she going to put them all?

Dane's phone and her new phone were already in one back-pocket each of her jeans. She quickly wound up the charger cord for the burner and shoved that into her front pocket. Then, with a wince and a gasp, she slid the burner into the front of her jeans, praying it wouldn't fall out of her waistband, and kept her own phone slid up the sleeve of her sweater.

Her mind was spinning, turning over all the possible ways this could go wrong, or she could be leading the wrong person back to herself. Or someone would find her with all the phone and start asking the wrong questions.

But did any of that matter anymore now that Dane was with his father?

She didn't think so. But even if it did, she was taking the risk. She was resolved. She needed to know what clues his phone held, and hers, if there were any.

Swallowing hard, she headed back up the stairs to the Penthouse, but her ribs were complaining about the running, so she took this much slower. Each stair seemed like a test, so she gritted her teeth and got through it. At the top she had to find the little knob that released the catch on the fireplace to get through. Pushing away more memories of Dane—carrying her, ushering her, his smile, his desire to surprise—she stepped back into the Penthouse and turned to close it behind her when a voice snapped from the living room.

"What the hell is that?"