Page 48 of The Secretary Volume II

Which implies that whoever she is, she said no.

And that means she’s already in danger.

27

Lena

Istep out of the shower, towel half-wrapped around me, skin still wet, nerves still buzzing.It’s late, but I’m wide awake—strung tight and twitchy, with a gnawing feeling I can’t place.

I walk back into the living room, my damp hair clinging to my shoulders.I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone, that someone is inside my apartment.

Of course, that’s ridiculous.

Everything’s exactly how I left it.Keys in the bowl.Shoes by the door.Couch still indented from where I collapsed last night.

Still, something feels… different.Warmer.Stilled.

I towel off my hair, then freeze.

There’s a box on the counter.

Not wrapped.Not labeled.Just there.Sitting in the center of my kitchen island like it belongs.

I didn’t order anything.

A knot forms in my throat, thick and stubborn, like I’m choking on something I can’t swallow.I don’t move for a second.I just stare at it.Matte black, the size of a shoebox.Minimalist.Sleek.Expensive.Like it doesn’t belong in this apartment.Like it doesn’t belong in my life.

I can’t help myself.I lift the lid.

Inside, resting against a bed of black silk, is a single stiletto.Black.Designer.The kind of shoe I’ve only seen in high-end magazines, behind glass, or on people who aren’t me.

There’s a card beneath it.Clean, printed, impersonal.

But the phrasing is unmistakable.

A folded card.No flourish.No sweetness.Just a statement.

Harder to run in these…

- E

I exhale, breath catching somewhere between a laugh and a shiver.

It’s not just the gift.

It’s the assumption.

That I’ll wear it.That I’ll understand what it means.

That I’m already playing.

And the worst part?

He’s not wrong.

I pick up the shoe.It’s absurdly light, a delicate weapon in my hand.Stupidly beautiful, yes, but the kind of beauty that feels dangerous.A blade disguised as an accessory.

The other one’s missing.

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