Page 49 of Heartless Sinner

“Not good. He’s insisting on staying. He wants me to leave and head to Louisiana without him.”

“Scarlett… I hate to say this, but he’s right. You need to get the hell away from there. Anton is going to be furious. And you know what that looks like.”

“Yeah.”

“I can send you seven thousand tomorrow night. I’m waiting on a payment to come through.”

The weight on my shoulders eases. “My God, Lucy. Thank you. I’ll pay it back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t you dare worry about that now. Maybe that money will be enough to get your father someplace safe for a few nights while he figures things out, but you need to leave.”

“Okay… I’ll plan for that.”

“What about coming back to New York? You could stay with me.”

I’m shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “No, that’s too much.”

“Think about it, at least. We could spend our days talking about casting jobs and whatever. Like in college.” She chuckles lightly.

My heart squeezes when I think back to the magical time we had in college. “That would be great. But I think I need to be somewhere else just for the moment.”

She’s already done so much for me. Also, Anton knows where Lucy lives and how close we are. Her place is the first he’d search for me. While he knows I have family in Louisiana, he doesn’t know where they live. Since I don’t plan on staying with my uncle for long, I’m hoping that by the time Anton realizes where I am—if he looks for me—I’ll be someplace else.

“Okay. I understand, but please consider me an option.”

“I will.”

“Good. Now try to get some sleep and don’t worry.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you.”

“I know you do. We’ll figure this out, okay?”

“Okay.” Although I say that, I’m more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life.

We hang up and I rest my hands on the padded cushion of the window bay.

I barely get a moment to breathe before an orange pinprick glow in the shadows through the window catches my attention.

The intense paranoia I’ve been feeling delivers a punch to my gut, and I stand, squinting into the darkness beyond the reach of the garden light.

My breath catches as the ember brightens, illuminating the outline of a man standing by the trees in the woods.

The orange glow—the end of a cigarette, I realize—along with the subtle moonlight is just bright enough to see the sharpplanes of his face, and I realize I’m not looking at an ordinary person.

That’s Micah.

Oh God.

The cigarette's glow paints his features in hellfire orange, shadows dancing across his jaw as he takes another long drag.

He doesn't move, doesn't try to hide, doesn’t do anything besides watch me while the smoke curls around him like a lover's caress.

Holy fucking shit. How long has he been there?

Whyis he there?

My legs turn to water, but I can't look away. I watch him too, taking note of the ease in which he leans against the tree. As if he owns it like everything else in the world.

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