For 100 Days (100 1)

“Hello? Is someone there?” I wait another second, then pull the phone away from my ear and check to see if the call has dropped. No, it hasn’t. And now I swallow on a suddenly arid throat, even as I assure myself that I have no reason to feel afraid. “Hello? Mom, is that you?”

The line goes dead.

I’m still holding the phone in my frozen fingers when it rings again. Whether it’s been a few seconds or a several minutes, I’m not entirely sure. All I know is the rapid pound of my heart beating in my chest, and the chill dread that squeezes me in its fist as I nervously glance at the screen again.

Nick.

Relief pushes the air out of my lungs on a heavy sigh, but my nerves are far from steady as I swipe my finger across the phone to answer his call.

“Hi.” My voice comes out thin and quiet, almost breathless.

“Hi, yourself.” He gives me a low, sensual groan. “Why do you have to sound so damn sexy when I’m thirty four hundred miles away?”

I smile despite the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. Hearing Nick’s voice always has a comforting effect on me, and now is no exception. Besides, I’m sure the other call was nothing. Probably someone from the prison administration or the public defender’s office calling my number unintentionally. Just a harmless butt-dial. No reason to start looking for ghosts or jumping at shadows.

Instead, I reach for a tether to bring me back to the real world. “How was the meeting with the aerospace people?”

“Profitable. We closed on the acquisition before dinner tonight.” He sounds genuinely excited, even proud.

“Nick, that’s fantastic. Congratulations.”

I can practically hear the grin in his reply. “The capital we’re injecting into the operation’s going beef up production schedules by twofold. If everything goes well, by this time next year, Baine International will be the third largest entrant in the private spaceflight market.”

I’m astonished, but not surprised. Nothing about this man’s ambition and drive, nor his intellect, shocks me anymore. He is a force to be reckoned with, and I doubt he?

?s ever met a challenge he couldn’t conquer—on this planet or any other, evidently. “If you keep dominating markets outside our orbit, you’re going to have to seriously consider new letterhead. Baine Intergalactic has a nice ring to it.”

He chuckles. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“I’m excited for you, Nick. I wish we could celebrate in person.”

“So do I. And we will, as soon as I return.” Then his voice takes on a deeper timbre. “Until then, I can think of some interesting ways to celebrate together long-distance.”

“I’m sure you do.” I laugh, even as my body quickens with interest. “And I want to hear every wicked one of them, but . . . that’s not the reason I wanted to talk to you. I met Tasha in the city today. While we were talking, she showed me a gossip page article about the mayor’s gala last month. There were photos of us together as we arrived. Apparently, they’ve gone viral on the Internet.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t sound pleased. Then again, he doesn’t sound surprised either. “I suppose that was to be expected.”

“You already knew?”

“I employ enough people who’ll bring these kinds of things to my attention if I don’t see them for myself first.”

“So, you’re not upset that we’ve been photographed together?”

“Of course I’m upset. But I’m used to the press constantly buzzing around in search of their next meal. They might’ve fed on us for a lot longer if we hadn’t left the city when we did and for as long as we did.”

“Oh.” A pang of disappointment stings me as he explains. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right, Nick.”

Dominic Baine is nothing if not a shrewd man. And, as I’ve learned, he is always in control, always one step ahead of everyone else drifting through his orbit.

So, I really can’t fault him for thinking that far ahead, for taking steps to protect his privacy. I shouldn’t feel disappointed if his motivation for whisking me off on the fantasy getaway of my life was more pragmatic than it was spontaneous.

“Hopefully, things have died down by now,” I murmur.

And I can’t help thinking that our escape from the press’s eye was beneficial for me too. One of the things I love most about New York is the sense of anonymity it provides. It’s easy to blend in here, easy to vanish into the masses. Here, it’s easy to start over. Unlike back home, where nothing is ever forgiven or forgotten.

“If things haven’t died down,” Nick says, “we’ll just have to find another place to explore.”

“Sure, why not?” I reply, pushing away my grim thoughts and trying to keep my tone as light as his. “Although, it’s going to be hard to top three weeks on the Icarus.”