Page 41 of The Playboy Billionaire

Shit!

I grab my towel, still damp from last night’s shower, rolling it into a tube. I stuff it against the bottom of the door, thinking back to my fire safety course. The window, high above my bed, is small and compact, but big enough for me to squeeze through. I know I can open it. Once Samuel realised I was both living and working here, he made it his top priority to ensure I was safe. The windows and doors being number one.

He fitted a lock but also ensured it opened. He spent hours oiling the hinges.

“You can never be too safe,” he said when I asked him why he was bothering.

I’ll be giving him the biggest hug when I next see him.

The smoke begins to form its own eery cloud on the ceiling, descending towards the window. I grab what is left of my water by the bed and empty it onto my t-shirt, pressing it to my nose and mouth, the relief almost instant. I watch as the smoke begins to curl slowly past the towel. My heart rate picks up, and my breathing stalls. There’s no one around this area at this time of night.

I check my phone.

Damn it, no signal!

No one to raise the alarm. I begin to cough again, the air thickening. I press my t-shirt more firmly against my mouth. I need to get out fast.

I move to the bed, pulling on last night’s jeans, which are lying at the base. There’s a drop on the other side of thewindow. I just hope someone hasn’t moved the bins. I pull on my trainers before climbing onto the bed.

Crap, my handbag.

I’ll need my cards. I look around and spot it through the haze. It’s sitting on the chair near the door.

I jump down, the toxic smell searing my nose and throat, even through the material of my top. Grabbing my bag, I spot Mr Ted in the corner. I swipe him up as I head back to the window, stuffing him under my t-shirt.

I push the window outwards and inhale deeply, my lungs crying out for a gulp of fresher air. The smoke still clogs the air, but not as much. I throw my bag out through the open gap, hoisting myself up towards the ledge, thanking my dancer's flexibility and strength. My fingers grip the edge as I take my weight on my arms before swinging my leg around. The first time, I miss so I use my trainers to help walk up the wall, pulling myself up onto the small, narrow ledge. The window bangs down on my back, making me suck in a breath, but at least it’s semi-fresh air I’m now drawing into my lungs. I wriggle sideways, manoeuvring myself through the thin gap. I can hear shouts from outside.

“Miss?” I wriggle around to see a fireman standing beneath the window. He places a ladder against the wall and climbs.

“Miss, if you can move yourself around.”

With his help, I get my feet onto the top rung of the ladder.

“Thank you,” I say breathlessly.

“Is there anyone else inside?” he asks.

“No, just me,” I say, coughing as my lungs try to clear themselves.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. There’s only me. At least in the dance studio,” I say as he leads me away from the building.

He moves me to one of the fire engines and grabs a foil blanket, wrapping it around my shoulders. He motions to one of the paramedics. I stare at the building that has been my home. Black smoke billowing from newly broken windows. An orange glow is visible on the inside.

The medic hands me some water, and I think they tell me to drink it, but I can’t move my gaze away from the sight before me. They’re dousing the building with jets of water. The hiss and squeal are audible as the fire resists them, devouring the old wooden timbers and connecting walls.

What the hell happened?

There’s a shout, and I watch the firefighters draw back. An enormous crack fills the air before the roof caves in. The orange flames now dancing high into the night sky.

There’s a certain beauty to the organised chaos that follows. Men and women work in tandem, like a dance troop, as they battle the blaze. Another two fire engines appear. More men and women jumping out. The main coordinator fires orders at the different teams. The sign outside Betty and Don’s is black. The paint has bubbled and melted in the heat. Flames lick under the doors. Everyone's businesses in Sunny Down have gone.

My heart drops, a deep chill spreading out from the centre of my body.

Thursday’s meeting.

All the things Caleb asked me to trust him on.

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