To get through a heartache after the sudden breakup, Arabella moves to New York City to start another chapter of her life.
Driven by the hope to make Adrian Castle, the man who left her broken to pieces with an excuse of protecting her against his w...
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I wake up around one in the afternoon. It's a warm Saturday. After my mom's call that left me rather stupefied, all I could do in the morning was clean up the house, do the laundry, and prepare breakfast before getting back to sleep until now that I can finally feel myself again and probably think straight.
Isla is pirouetting in the living room, all the furniture scattered to give her enough space. The TV is connected to her iPad, with a classic ballet performance airing obnoxiously in a quiet voice. I smile and limp quietly past her, coming to terms with how busy she is to give me so much as a glance.
Ever since Adrian gifted her that iPad, she decided to become the next Anna Pavlova. She's been practicing every day, assiduously, trying different moves she watches. I'm not sure how she manages to stand using the tips of her toes without falling, but I sure enjoy looking at her doing it.
However, as much as I want to cheer her up, my stomach doesn't allow me to wait a minute longer. Well, I'm starving. Food is my priority at the moment so I don't dwell on my sister's little bubble; I go straight to the kitchen, and that's where Camilla is.
"Well, you can talk to her and I'm sure she'll understand," Camilla says quietly.
She's at the breakfast table, fully dressed in a white silky blouse with blue skinny jeans, and a pair of white heels. She's wearing eyeglasses, too, and her laptop is set on the table in front of her. Judging from the concentration in her eyes, I assume she's having a video call, and an important one.
"Adrian, I may be paranoid but—" She pauses when she sees me, and I do the same with my footsteps upon hearing Adrian's name. "Hey. You're up," she tells me, and something about her reaction portrays guilt as though I've caught her red-handed doing something I would never approve of.
And I know why.
"You've told him, haven't you?" I ask her in a sour voice.
Sighing, she carefully peels the glasses off her face. "Yeah, I did. You should talk to him; he wants to know the details."
"Unbelievable!" I mutter under my breath. I'm flustered by this whole charade I've foolishly chosen to take part in by letting Adrian Castle be the co-star of my life. Too late, I know, and damn the day I demanded to see his face. Eyes back on Camilla, I go on,"So, are we shooting a CIA movie or something? I mean... we talked about this! Why do you have to drag it this far, huh?"
"Because it may be more serious than it looks, Ara," she says, almost confidently. "Something wasn't right last night. I felt it. You felt it!" Her voice bares profound fear that I should've noticed right away upon seeing her with a gun.
How did I miss it?
"You said it was a circuit breaker," I retort.
"No, it wasn't. I shut down the electricity because I felt like someone was watching me," she claims. I tilt my head to one side and glare at her with narrowed eyes. As she jogs her memory, probably back to last night, a frown appears on her face. "Maybe it was that creepy guy you saw, right? We may not be safe here and I'm trying to make sure we are."
