Page 111 of Sinful Hearts

“Love ya, Elsa.”

* * *

Hours later,though not nearly as late as I’ve had to stay sometimes, I’m finally leaving. I grab my gym bag off the couch in my office, lock up, and grab an Uber home.

When I get there, I frown when I see the food delivery I sent to Nora a couple of hours ago still sitting on the kitchen counter. One, because I seriously need to start finding the time to make my sister actual home-cooked meals instead of feeding her nothing but takeout. But two, I sent it hours ago, and it’s still unopened.

“Nora?”

She’s not in the living room when I poke my head in there. I check her room next, knocking lightly on the closed door.

“Hey! I’m home. How was your day? Also, you must be starving! The Italian I sent—” I frown. “Nora?”

I creak the door open. She’s not there.

Pulling my phone out, I send her a quick text. I’m not super hardcore about a curfew, or about where she can or can’t go. She’s fifteen, she’s a smart kid, and it’s New York. As long as she lets me know where she’s going to be, and that everything is okay, she’s got a lot of freedom.

Me

Hey, just checking in. You good?

Her reply comes almost immediately:

Nora

Yeah, sorry, forgot to text earlier. A lot going on. I’m at Gemma’s house. Fill u in later?

Me

Yeah, of course. And no problem. Uber or taxi if it’s after ten, ok?

She sends me a thumbs up emoji, and that’s that.

She was obviously home earlier after school when I had the food delivered, since it’s sitting on our kitchen counter. But I guess something came up with her friends. I hate making light of her teen drama, because I was that age once too. But sometimes, it’s hard not to roll my eyes at the latest earth-shattering catastrophe that usually revolves around literally nothing.

In the kitchen, I realize I’m starving. So I open up the takeout bag and pop some of the cavatelli with spicy sausage and broccolini in the microwave. I’m halfway through devouring it, along with a big glass of pinot noir, when the unit phone buzzes with a call from the front desk down in the lobby.

“Hey, Gerry.”

“Evenin’, Ms. Guin. Gotta package here for you.”

My brows knit. “Work files?”

“Nnno, I don’t think so. Big black box with a ribbon, and the courier said he was paid not to say who it came from.”

Okay…that’s weird.

Just then, my phone buzzes with a text:

Taylor Crown

Hey, hope I’m not interrupting your evening. Just wanted to say thanks again for the superwoman act with the Klein briefing. The notes and the recommendations on proceeding are top notch. I can’t stress enough how psyched the brothers and I are to have you with us, Elsa. Don’t even reply to this. Just enjoy your night. And again, our sincere thanks.

I grin. Whatever the package is, I think this explains where it came from.

“Ms. Guin?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here.”

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