Page 223 of Quinlan

Soon my body will adjust to my new lifestyle. Then, nothing will stop me.

With my phone silenced and slipped into my jeans pocket, I descend the stairs where I’ve been spending my lunch breaks over the last few days.

The floor-to-ceiling windows call my name. Standing in front of them is where I feel closest to my men.

They’ll be having lunch at one of their offices today. Rome and I cooked them the lasagna in the morning, and I wasn’t sad when we made it. I was happy, creating new memories with them.

I hug myself, rubbing my forearms. I’m not cold or anything. The gray sweatshirt I’m wearing keeps me warm. I’d just rather imagine it’s one of them, folding me into his arms from behind.

A light flashes from my jean pocket. My phone. I’ll answer them later, once I get a hold of my emotions. Once I can smile through a conversation.

Soon.

The lock on the door clicks. Someone pushes it in, and my head whips in that direction.

That someone isn’t Damien. He’s not Rome. Not Liam.

“Ms. Palmer?” Ashton’s red hair peeks through the crack in the door. He’s one of the building’s doormen, the only one to have the key to the penthouse. “The food delivery is here. Can I let Shawna in?”

A full minute passes for my heart to stop racing. I met both of them last week. Rome told me they were supposed to come here today, and I bet my phone flashed to remind me they’ll be here. I just forgot.

And once my heart settles, a plan forms in my head.

A strong, consuming sense of mission fills me with newfound energy. My feet push me forward, toward the sneakers I left by the door after yesterday’s boxing session.

Toward the door itself.

“Come in.” I’m jogging through the wide living room and into the foyer. “How are you, Ashton?”

“I’m doing well, thank you, Ms. Palmer. How have you been?”

While he holds the door open for Shawna, I shove my bare feet into my sneakers. Good thing I put on socks this morning. Good thing because I realize I don’t have a spare moment to waste as Ashton prepares to follow Shawna and her grocery cart into the kitchen.

Once he’s inside, I’ll lose the opportunity to leave the penthouse. The next time I’ll have a chance to get away is when Shawna leaves. They’ll see me trying to escape and I might fail. I’ll probably fail.

I like my chances better now.

“I’m great.” My long hair has fallen like a curtain around my face when I bent to tie my shoelaces, and I flip it back once I have my sneakers on. My hand flies to the doorjamb, pretending to help him do…something. “Here, I’ve got this.”

“Thank you, Ms. Palmer.” Ashton’s brown eyes are confused. “We’re already inside. You can let go. Thank you.”

The way he’s eyeing me, I bet this six-foot-million of a man was probably given instructions to keep me inside the apartment. Damien’s worried Rex might hurt me if he catches me outside.

Not if I hurt him first. If I scream at him in broad daylight. He wouldn’t dare lay a finger on me. There’ll be others in the café to hold him back.

I wouldn’t take his revenge from him by going out. But I have to speak up. I have to dosomethingfor Damien.

And I can’t do that if Ashton keeps looking at me like that.

Offering him a bright smile is my best option at the moment. “Of course. I just wanted to help.”

“Mr. Parks?” Shawna calls out to him from the kitchen. “Could you come over, please? It’s a breach of my contract to even be standing here alone.”

Ashton knows this. So do I.

“She’s right.” My fake smile does little to appease Ashton. His shoulders are squared, his black suit jacket stretching on them. He’s readying himself for an argument. “I won’t say a thing, but what if the security cameras over there…” I slip between him and the door, jerking my chin to the ceiling toward the nonexistent cameras. “If they document Shawna there, unsupervised? She could lose her job.”

The seed has been planted. Ashton’s brow furrows. He takes another step into the penthouse.

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