Without thinking, I slid my thumb across the screen and lifted the phone to my ear. It was warm from Luka’s pocket.
“Hello, Alex speaking.” My voice was a landfill fire—smoke on the surface, everything underneath still burning.
“Hi, Alex, it’s Sophie from reception. Sorry to bother you.” Her London accent was bright and pinched. “We just…em, wanted to check if you were all right? The fire brigade cleared the building, but you never came back in.”
Luka’s gaze locked on mine, unreadable as a code.
“I—” I drew in a breath, let it out slow, kept my voice bland. “Sorry, the alarm triggered a raging migraine. I’m going to lie down for a few hours, if that’s okay. I’ll catch up on emails tonight and be in early tomorrow.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed. “Feel better, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Sophie.” I ended the call.
I stared at the lock screen—Luka’s phone.
“Why did she call you?” I asked, handing it back to his waiting palm.
“She didn’t.”
“I don’t…” I shook my head, as if that might clear it. “What do you mean?”
“I mirrored your mobile this morning. Any call or text you get rings to my device as well.”
Right. He’d said that earlier. When my brain had been too scrambled to think past the wordsafe. At the time, it had sounded like protection. Now it felt like something else entirely.
I took another drink and stared at him. The glass sweated in my palm, cold as bone. “So you’ve been…what, spying on me?”
His lips twisted. “No. Not spying. Monitoring. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” My voice rose, thin and brittle. “Because it sounds like you put me on a digital leash.”
He didn’t flinch. “After last night, yes. You received a threat. I wanted to know if anything happened while you were at work. If you were in danger.”
The room was too bright, the edges of everything too sharp. “What did you see?” I hugged my knees to my chest, arms knotted tight around them, bracing for impact. “Were you…listening?”
He shook his head. “You’ve seen too many films. I can follow your calls and texts. And your location, if the device is on you. That’s it.”
I tried to process it—tried to decide if I was angry or grateful or both. “But the fire alarm…how did you?—”
“I identified the man who texted you. And you were sitting in his office, not moving, not answering me.” His jaw tightened. “I had to get you out. So I accessed the building’s fire alarm and triggered it.”
I blinked at him, searching for the right emotion to pull to the surface—outrage, gratitude, embarrassment. Instead, I just nodded, jaw clenched hard enough to crack a molar.
“Thank you.” My voice barely carried.
But he heard it.
He leaned closer, his gaze anchoring me, and for a moment he looked almost…gentle. Or as close to it as he got.
“I mean it,” I said—with more resolve this time. “We’ll deal with the wiretapping later. But you got me out of an…uncomfortable situation. I’m grateful.”
He nodded once, then nudged the glass toward me. “What happened?”
The question hovered. I wrapped both hands around the drink, fingers crowding the glass, hoping the vodka would fill in all the gaps that words couldn’t.
“Nothing happened.” The lie scarcely cleared my lips before dissolving. “Richard…” His name caught, just slightly. “He sawme at…at the club this weekend. And he thought he could…” I locked my jaw, but the words still scorched. “Take liberties.”
“And?” Luka’s voice was controlled enough that I could hear the strain beneath it.