Descent (Black Heart Romance)

The lock on the door is secure, so is the deadbolt and the chain lock. I lean against the door and try to listen, but I don’t hear anything on the other side.

Maybe it was my imagination.

Hell, maybe it was someone else who lives in this building just walking by.

I’m too afraid to open the door and check.

I wait for a few minutes, then peek through the peephole to make sure there’s no one in the hallway.

If anyone was there, it seems they left.

I hope they left. I’m terrified to open the door, so I unlock the knob and the deadbolt, but leave the chain lock secured so the door can only open a teeny bit.

I’m tentatively relieved when the door cracks open, and no one pops up and tries to shove it open the rest of the way to force their way inside my home. I peek out and don’t see anybody, but I do see a box on the floor.

A delivery. Did I order anything?

I didn’t, but it’s not impossible Charity ordered something for me. I’m still cautious as I unlock the door. I open it, grab the present quickly, and then slam the door shut and lock all three locks with shaky fingers.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I look down at the big gray gift box with a silver bow on top.

Nordstrom is subtly embossed on the lid, which is another good indicator that it’s probably a gift from Charity and not a severed head or something else horrendous from Calvin.

I haul the box to the kitchen and put it on the counter. When I draw off the lid, I see a note lying on top of the tissue paper.

Hallie,

How unfortunate you weren’t able to make our date this evening.

I’ve taken the liberty of rescheduling for tomorrow.

My driver will pick you up at six o’clock.

You will be wearing this.

You will come to my place for dinner.

See you then.

-Calvin

Adrenaline courses through my body.

I don’t know what I expected, exactly. I guess I thought I wouldn’t hear from him again after I stood him up, but I didn’t expect a “you’ve been rescheduled” notice, and certainly not a present.

I pull back the layers of tissue paper to reveal stunning white, sequined material. There are subtle geometric shapes that glisten as the light hits the sequins. I pull out the shimmering fabric and find it’s an absolutely beautiful sheath dress, the classiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on in my whole life.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I murmur, since only Marie can hear me.

She comes over to see what all the fuss is about—or maybe just to see what distracted me from serving her food.

My eyes rake over the gorgeous gown. My fingers skim the banded waist.

I bet this would be absolutely stunning on.

I shouldn’t keep it, though, right? I’m certainly not going to meet him at his penthouse for dinner after standing him up tonight.

And for him to call it a date—utter madness.

Then again, it’s not like there’s a return address…

I take the beautiful dress and hang it up in my closet, then I go back to the kitchen and finally feed Marie.

I try not to think about Calvin, try not to feel bad for things I know reasonably I shouldn’t feel bad for…

And hey, I almost do.

___

Monday morning means heading to the office for a meeting, so I grab my sketches, kiss Marie, and make sure the apartment is locked up securely before I head out.

I’m more watchful of my surroundings than I ordinarily would be in broad daylight, and I find myself watching for Calvin’s limo even though it’s probably absurd; it’s Monday morning, I’m sure he’s at work—not out stalking me.

The meeting runs a little long and I’m starving, so I stop for a slice of pizza on the way home.

I’m anxious about being alone in the hall as I get my door unlocked and haul all my crap inside, but I feel better once all the locks are engaged.

I scarf down the pizza, my head full of new ideas for the project I’ll be starting after I finish my current one. I’m eager to dig into it and bring to life the author’s ideas, so I put off cleaning up until later and go to my drawing table to get to work.

The day gets away from me, and before I know it, it’s 4:32.

I’m thirsty, so I go out to the kitchen for a cold bottle of water.

On my way to the fridge, I notice Marie didn’t eat her breakfast.

A frown flickers across my face. That is her least favorite flavor in the variety pack. Maybe she wasn’t in the mood for it. Sometimes she won’t finish the tilapia, but it doesn’t look like she even touched it.

“Marie,” I call out, looking around for her. “Are you being a diva today?”