Page 159 of The Sinner: James

I pick it up and flip it over. It’s not his. As I read the name, the memory of that blonde woman comes to me.

Anastasia Wells, Platinum International. Escort Services.

‘Call me,’she had scribbled on the side where she had added her cell phone number before dropping it to the floor so she could slip it to me later.

* * *

RAIN

A giant stormhits New York the first weekend of January, burying Manhattan under a foot of snow.

We close the store earlier, and I get home before seven.

My phone goes off half an hour later. I swipe the screen with my thumb, my heart racing.

“Red?”

“David?” I murmur, unable to stifle my surprise.

“Are you free tonight?” he asks without much introduction.

I pause for a moment.

“Yes.”

“Did you have dinner?”

“No.”

“My driver will pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“There’s a storm outside,” I say.

A chuckle comes from the other end of the phone line.

“It’s winter, Red.”

I smile.

“Okay,” I say, conceding softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

I retrieve two new dresses from the closet. One is buttercream, and the other one is green.

I go with the cream one, red heels, and a scarlet coat.

I remove the tags on all of them, and thirty minutes later, a different woman walks out of my small apartment.

I slip into my ride and make the short trip to his place. I’m late when the car pulls up smoothly in front of the hotel.

David is in the lobby, waiting for me, and he spots me immediately.

He pushes through the front door and rushes to the car, his eyes beaming with a smile.

“I got this,” he says to the driver before holding the door for me and helping me out.

He buries my gloved hand in his palm and leads me inside.

“Dinner is set for us upstairs,” he says as we walk into the elevator.

---