Page 90 of Wicked Little Secret
“Thurman Adler. I own property in this building. Fifteenth floor.”
“That so? No wonder you look so familiar.”
No… that would be my father…
“Well, it’s a good one to have a stake in. Round-the-clock amenities. Even maintenance. Why d’you think I’m here so late?” He gives a gruff laugh. “Got a dishwasher I’ve got to repair on the eleventh floor. Actually, this is me. You need anything, you let me know.”
“Enjoy the rest of your night,” I say once we’ve reached his floor and he’s stepped off.
He gives me a polite nod and picks up his whistle as he starts down the hall.
I smash my finger on the close button, then select the top floor. The maintenance man didn’t notice—the tag pinned to his chest said his name was Walter—but as he talked, I swiped his access card.
Snuck it right off his cart.
Yet another insane risk I’ve taken in such a short amount of time.
…you have no idea the lengths I’m willing to go through for you, Miss Oliver.
But I will make sure you atone for making me do this…
I arrive on the top floor with my skeletal mask back over my face. While there’s usually cameras in the elevators of buildings like this, I hope I’ve kept myself angled enough that I didn’t appear too clearly.
I take the same care slinking down the hall of the top floor.
The entire floor is dedicated to the penthouse, the entrance straight ahead. The same type of black panel that had been outside the elevator in the lobby is mounted to the left of the penthouse door. I stop in front of it, inhale a deep breath, and scan the card I’ve swiped.
The little light blinks green and the lock clicks.
I’m not even sure what I plan to do now that I’ve gained entry.
Nyssa and her gentleman caller will be up any moment. I’ll be faced with the immediate decision of whether to lurk and spy or sate my impulsiveness and confront them.
Both seem like possibilities.
Both halves of myself I’ll have to choose between.
“It isn’t what you think it is, Theron,” Professor Vise chuckled. “The girl has so many crazy ideas. I regret ever trying to take her under my wing.”
He approached with a kettle emitting curls of steam and poured hot water into our mugs. Soon the tea bag’s turned the water a pale amber shade.
“What kind of ideas?” I asked, trying to keep a hold on my temper. I was running as hot as the boiling water in my mug.
A tall man with copper skin and broad shoulders, Vise reclaimed his seat across from me and brought his mug up to his mouth to blow on his tea. “You know, all kinds of things. She can’t seem to leave well enough alone.”
“Like what, Professor?” I pressed.
His dark eyes gleamed as he put down the mug again. His chuckle returned, weaved in between each word of his response. “Well, for starters, she’s gone around making very damaging accusations. Specifically about who’s behindValentine.”
“Such as?”
“Me,” he answered, then his laugh deepened. “She thinksI’mValentine. Isn’t that absolutely ridiculous? Of all people… me?!”
My eyes darken staring at the penthouse door, waiting for it to open.
I haven’t even bothered to claim a hiding spot. I’m standing defiantly out in the open of the massive forty square foot living room area among the bright pendant lights and bland beige furnishings.
A crazed, irrational part of me wants to see the look of surprise on their faces when they walk in.