Page 6 of Do Not Open

Maybe I should send him an email to let him know I’ve arrived? Maybe I should—

The door swings open, and my questions stop.

“Mari.” The man in front of me exudes warmth, wealth, and confidence. He’s average height with alabaster skin, spiky black hair, and small, round glasses. If Ben Linus fromLosthad a twin, this would be him. I’m relieved to finally put a face with a name since I hadn’t been able to find any photos of him online. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” He holds out both arms, dismissing my awkwardly outstretched hand to pull me in for a hug. “Come in, come in.”

It lasts only seconds, and then he steps back, allowing me to come inside. The house is like a museum, soaked in sunlight from the enormous windows. The walls, floors, ceilings, and staircases are all made of stone and marble. The furniture is a mix of classic and modern, and I get the feeling the table in the hall costs more than my mortgage.

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say, snapping my eyes back to his when I realize I still haven’t spoken. “Thank you again for having me. You have a beautiful home.”

He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Charleston’s a lovely area, isn’t it? My wife and I came here to visit a friend a few summers ago and fell in love with it.”

“So, are you here full-time now?”Is that rude to ask? Why should he want me to know where he lives?

Because he’s the one who invited you, I hear Kassara’s voice silencing my panic.

“We’re back and forth between here and LA. And my production company has an office in Atlanta. So, all over the place, but this is home now, yes.” He leads me through the foyer and into a small sitting room, where I see a tray of drinks waiting. My throat goes dry at the sight. “What about you? Your website said you live in Charleston, but it didn’t say if this is where you’re from originally.”

“Yeah, I’m not. My husband and I moved here right after our son was born. I grew up in Savannah, though, so nottoofar away.”

“Your husband?” He checks behind me. “Is he with you?”

“Oh. Um, no.” My voice catches, and I clear my throat, passing it off as a cough. I’m surprised he doesn’t know what happened. “He’s not… I mean, he’s… It’s just me now.”

“I see.” He doesn’t offer his condolences, which I’m somehow grateful for. Perhaps because he doesn’t know whether he should. I didn’t exactly elaborate on what happened to him, but he seems to understand. Instead, he leans down and picks up both glasses from the tray and passes one to me. “I hope you don’t mind. I made us my signature cocktail, a boulevardier.” The amber liquid sloshes in the glass as I stare down into it.

“Not at all. It looks delicious.” Like a proper addict, my entire body is now buzzing with adrenaline, the drink in my hand the only thing I can focus on. I haven’t allowed myself a drink all day, and every nerve in my body is screaming in revolt. Demanding a sip, like a petulant toddler. I lift the cocktail to my lips and take a small drink. In an instant, everything in me goes electric. My brain seems to whir to life. The room around me is brighter. “And it is,” I say with a laugh, and even to my own ears, it sounds charming. I glance down at the tray again. “Only two glasses? What about your wife?”

Why did I ask that?I let a moment of confidence get the best of me.Maybe she doesn’t drink. Maybe she’s pregnant.Either way, it’s none of my business.

“Ah.” He sighs, looking away regretfully. “I’m sorry to say Audrey couldn’t make it today after all. She got a call early this morning about one of our productions and had to head to the office in LA to deal with that. It’s killing her not to be here.”

“Oh. I’m sad she couldn’t be, but I totally understand. I wouldn’t have minded rescheduling, though.” I wish I could rescind the words the second they leave my mouth.Was that rude? Do I sound like I don’t want to be here? Like I would’ve rather rescheduled?

He simply smiles and adjusts his glasses. “Well, hopefully this will be the first of many meetings, and you’ll see each other soon.” He turns his head, nodding in the direction of the doorway. “Come on, I want to show you why we picked this place.”

I follow him out of the sitting room—there’s probably a fancier name for it, but I have no idea what it is—and down a hall. We pass through the large chef's kitchen with double islands, and I try not to stare. Past the kitchen is a grand, enclosed piazza overlooking the ocean. I can’t help the gasp that escapes my lips, and he looks over at me.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Wow,” I murmur. “It really is.”

He chuckles. “Almost like the setting of one of your brilliant books.”

My cheeks heat.

One corner of his mouth upturns and he shoves a hand into his pocket with a sigh. “They are, you know. Brilliant. I’ve never found an author whose books make me feel the way yours do. The twists manage to get me every time. How do you do that?” He turns to face me.

“It’s fun for me, honestly,” I say, giving the answer I have prepared for whenever a podcast host or moderator on a panel asks the question. “It’s fun for me to plot through the eyes of a reader and try to figure out what you’ll be guessing, so I can lead you off course and down the wrong path.”

He grins and takes another sip of his drink. So do I, this time allowing myself to suck down even more of the liquid. My body is buzzing like a pulse.More. More. More.

I have to pace myself. Whatever happens, I’ll never live it down if I embarrass myself today. I take another sip, trying to appease the internal begging.

“You were born for it, obviously. Is it what you’ve always wanted to do? Write, I mean?” To my shock, it’s he who looks embarrassed. “Sorry, you must get asked that question all the time.”

“It’s okay.” I don’t tell him I do, in fact, get asked that often because it’s an easy question to answer. I’ll take all the easy questions I can get. “It’s a good question. I’ve always known, yeah. I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember.” I venture a bit of bravery and ask, “Which of my books is your favorite?”

He stares back at the ocean with a chuckle. “Hm. That’s a tough one.”

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