Page 10 of Graves

I’m stuck here, and the asshole has been staring a hole through my skull for what feels like ten minutes. I’ve tried countless times to look away, to focus on Fox, but my eyes keep sliding back to him like he’s magnetic.

It must be that famous charisma. Even my friend Nahla has a thing for the guy, and that says a lot—she usually doesn’t give white dudes a second look.

Fox notices that Aran’s stare is freaking me out and turns back to the rocker. “Aran, you okay? Got anything to add?”

Aran shifts his focus down to the glass on the table. “No.” He stands up and disappears into his room.

Fox had unlocked two rooms that were off-limits to me. One is Aran’s bedroom—I caught a glimpse through the crack once and saw the furniture covered in white sheets. I still have no idea what’s behind the second door at the end of the hall.

Right now, I couldn’t care less. The air in here gets thicker by the minute, the atmosphere so suffocating that it’s hard to breathe.

Fox sighs and rubs his stubble, looking a little lost. I’ve only ever seen him clean-shaven, but like he said—everything happened so fast.

“Look, Komura, we’ve got an unusual and unexpected situation here,” he told me on the phone two days ago. “Any chance you can be home Thursday night around seven?”

“You throwing me out?” was my first question. “We have a contract.”

“No! Don’t worry, I’m not putting you on the street. It’s something else, but I’d rather not tell you over the phone.”

“I work till six-thirty. Might be a little late.”

“No problem,” he’d said and hung up.

Now I’m still sitting here on the brown leather armchair, clutching the glass of water like some damn peace offering, trying to keep my emotions in check. My head is total chaos and my stomach feels queasy.

The guy is a murderer!

But what pisses me off most is that he reminds me I’m one too.

I should get the hell out of here as fast as possible.

And I was having such a good day. A really good day. I knew I had this meeting with Fox tonight, but I never imagined it would end like this.

“So what happens now?” I ask.

Fox tears his worried gaze away from Aran’s open bedroom door and turns back to me. “That… uh… we’ll have to see.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Fox just shrugs, so I stand up, open the terrace door, and motion for him to follow. I walk to the railing and point down at the street.

“There are like thirty reporters down there, all wanting a piece of him. I’m definitely not the only one here who wants to keep his life private.”

“They’re vultures, I know,” Fox says sympathetically. “And I’m really sorry about that. But I’m sure it’ll die down soon and they’ll lose interest. If you don’t want your face on the news, you’d be smart to use the back exit.”

I blink. “Through the courtyard?”

“There’s a small gate up ahead by Muvi’s restaurant. I used to pick Aran up there all the time when the front was swarmed.”

I can barely believe it. I study Fox, waiting for him to crack a smile and say he’s joking. He just gives me an awkward apology.

“Rockstar life,” he murmurs, glancing down at the street again.

“More like murderer life,” I blurt out.

Something shifts in Fox’s expression and he turns serious. “I get why you’re uncomfortable, but Aran’s a good guy. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“He killed someone and went to prison for it,” I remind him—maybe he’d forgotten. Fox takes a step closer and narrows his eyes.

“No. He went to prison for manslaughter and failure to render aid. It was more of an accident than murder. Let’s not twist the facts.”