Chapter 2

Gidget stood perfectly still in the center of the bedroom. She stared at the closed mahogany door. The silence in the room was deafening. She lifted her hand. Her index finger lightly touched her own bottom lip. The skin was tender, still carrying the faint, metallic taste of his blood. She turned away from the door and walked toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The glittering skyline of New York City stretched out before her, a sea of electric lights. Cortney Meyers was probably in another penthouse right now, celebrating her stolen victory. Cortney thought handing Gidget a short-lived husband was a death sentence. Gidget let out a short, harsh laugh. Cortney was a fool. She walked over to the vanity mirror. The soft LED lights illuminated her young, flawless face. She picked up a heavy silver hairbrush. She dragged the bristles through her long hair, pulling it in long, rhythmic strokes until her scalp tingled. The repetitive motion slowed her racing heartbeat. She needed to consummate this marriage before sunrise. If she didn't, Cortney's inevitable mockery would become reality, and the Strong family would devour her alive. Gidget opened the door to the walk-in closet. Rows of pristine, conservative designer outfits hung in perfect color coordination. She ignored them. She reached into the back and pulled out a deep burgundy silk slip dress. It was thin, clinging to her skin like water. She slipped it over her head. The cold fabric sent goosebumps down her arms. She grabbed a soft cashmere shawl and draped it over her shoulders. She deliberately pulled the left side down just an inch, exposing the sharp line of her collarbone. She walked over to the nightstand. A velvet jewelry box sat next to the lamp. She opened it, picked out a single diamond drop earring, and closed her fist around it. The sharp edges of the stone bit into her palm. The sudden, piercing pain grounded her, washing away the last dregs of her past-life trauma. She needed that sharp sting to keep her mind razor-sharp and absolutely lucid. Besides, a misplaced piece of jewelry could be the perfect excuse if she was caught wandering. She slid her feet into a pair of soft, silent house slippers. Gidget walked back to the bedroom door. She wrapped her hand around the freezing brass knob, pressed it down, and pushed the door open. The hallway was lined with thick, plush carpeting that swallowed the sound of her footsteps. She relied on the memories of her past life. She knew the layout of this massive estate perfectly. She turned left, heading straight for the private family office. Motion-sensor nightlights flickered to life as she walked, casting long, distorted shadows against the expensive wallpaper. She passed the grand spiral staircase leading down to the main foyer. She kept her eyes straight ahead, her muscles tight. The house was dead silent. The only sound was the low, mechanical hum of the central air conditioning pushing cold air through the vents. As she neared the corner of the west wing, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the hall. Gidget froze. She pressed her back flat against the wall, sliding into the deep shadow of a marble pillar. A young maid, carrying a tray with a water pitcher, walked past the intersection. The girl let out a loud yawn. Gidget held her breath. Her chest ached from the lack of oxygen. She waited until the maid disappeared through the swinging door of the servant's corridor. She exhaled slowly, her breath shaking. She stepped out of the shadows and continued down the hall. Her eyes locked onto the heavy oak door at the very end. A thin sliver of warm, yellow light bled out from underneath the doorframe. He was still awake. Gidget stopped in front of the door. Her pulse hammered in her throat. She took a deep breath. She let her shoulders droop slightly. She relaxed her facial muscles, forcing an expression of stubborn vulnerability onto her features. She didn't knock. She placed her hand flat against the door handle. She turned it slowly. It wasn't locked. Gidget pushed the door open just a fraction of an inch, peering into the dim light of the study to find him.