Page 46 of Scars of Silk

“No. Not at all.”

Jeez, I hope no one can see me now. My face must be the colour of fresh pickled beetroots.

“Oooh, Richards, I can tell when you are lying. I’m hurt here, I thought I was so much more than a secretary.”

“You are. But the receptionist must have been mistaken. It was just me.”

“You know, if I knew a good investigator, I’d try to get the CCTV. Especially the lift, I reckon that’s got to be the best camera in a hotel.”

My face burns even hotter when I remember Dan and I leaving the hotel this morning and the way his kiss had nearly consumed me alive in the lift. She’s not wrong. And now I remember we didn’t check out. It had been a miracle I could walk on my shaking legs. I’d done it though just out of principle to wipe his cocky smirk off his face.

“Shame you don’t know a good investigator.”

“True. So anyway, now I know you haven’t got swept out to sea, I can tell them it was a mistake and you’ll drop the cards back yes?”

“Yeah, I guess.” There must be something wrong with me because in my head I just have a vision of Dan and I walking along the stony beach at sunset… That is not the normal stuff I think about.

“Okay, second, a Scott Harrington has called for you, twice this morning. He wants to know when you are free for a drink and asked me to check your diary.”

“Presumptuous.”

“Is this the other key card holder?”

“Hell no.”

“Okay, so what do I tell him?”

“Tell him some time the other side of never.”

“Okay. Last thing; your Dad called. He wants to confirm your weekend dinner.”

My lungs just exhale and don’t take in more air. The glow I had coursing through me evaporates and I bite hard on my lower lip.

That’s one way to remind me this is all make believe. Nothing about my time in Brighton is real. A flourish of anger blooms in my chest like an unfurling rosebud in late May. “Can you tell him I’m busy this week?”

There’s a pause. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean, are you sure?”

I blink up into the cloudy sky, willing the tears to stop prickling my eyes. “Yeah, I am sure.” I wipe at my face and refuse to think any further ahead than one moment at a time. I won’t think of Dad’s reaction. I won’t think of any repercussions. I’ll just try to claim one moment for myself, and then the next, one at a time.

“Okay. So will you be in Brighton tomorrow too?”

“Mm, I think I might need longer, possibly until the end of the week. There are lots of people to see.”

I glance down at the paper holding only a few more names.

“Excellent.” She knows I’m lying. “I’ll tell Elijah.”

“No need. I’ve seen him this morning; he knows I’ll be here a while.” Another lie. He told me to get back to the office as soon as possible considering Brighton seemed to be a dead end.

“Everything okay, Sienna?” The concern in Melissa’s voice is impossible to ignore.

I sigh and pick off a piece of my bar. “Actually, do you know what?”

“What?” I can imagine her leaning over her desk like we were talking over a glass of wine in our regular wine bar.