Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy #2) Read Free Page B

wasn't sure she really cared where she ended up; it wouldn't change anything.
     

     
    She was wrong about not caring.
    As soon as she opened her eyes, her stomach sank.
    "Why are we here?" she asked as Michael pulled up right outside the doors of the Ashton and slammed his little sports car into park. Her heart pounded, sweat breaking out on her forehead. This was Tristan's building, where he lived.
    "You're staying here," he said with a shrug before climbing out and slamming the door. He'd been talkative on the short drive, but hadn't said much of value. Lillian had a feeling he simply didn't like the silence. He seemed too restless, full of pent up energy.
    She glanced up at the massive glass-spired building and swallowed hard.
    Was Tristan here?
    God, she hoped so.
    Swinging her legs out of the car, she struggled to get her feet beneath her. Michael already had her bag in hand as he stood to the side, waiting for her. He watched her struggle for a brief moment before holding out a hand. She took it gratefully, allowing him to pull her from the car.
    "Thanks," she mumbled when his eyes drifted to the long surgical scar peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirt. She tugged it down, her cheeks burning.
    He shot her an odd look, but didn't comment, instead turning toward the building. "Sup, Frank?" he called to the security guard, who smiled and waved him through. Pausing inside the building, he leaned close and said something to the older man, whose gaze darted in Lillian's direction and then slid away.
    "Will do," he said with a nod.
    "What did you say to him?" she asked as Michael led her through the empty lobby toward the elevators. As soon as he put his finger on the button, one slid open. The same one she and Tristan had taken what seemed like ages ago. When he'd backed her into the corner and worked sexual voodoo over her body without even touching her.
    "I want you under the lights next time. I want to see you with your hair down, your head thrown back, and sweat sliding down your body. I want to watch what the music does to you while I fuck you."
    "Does the thought of feeling me deep inside while you move make you wet, beautiful?"
    "You comin', Little Mama?" Michael arched a brow.
    "Yeah," she muttered with a shake of her head, limping inside the elevator.
    The doors slid closed.
    "I told him if anyone asks, he's never seen you before."
    Who?
    Oh, the security guard, Frank.
    She glanced sideways at Michael, her eyes wide. He didn't say anything else though, instead slinging the strap of her bag over his shoulder and then pulling his phone out of his pocket. His fingers flew across the buttons, a furrow taking up residence between his brows.
    "Elevators," he grunted a few seconds later and shoved the phone back into the pocket of his jeans.
    Lillian caught sight of herself in the mirrors and grimaced. Her hair was still neatly pinned in a bun, but her normally bright hazel eyes were red-rimmed where she'd spent half the night crying. Her bottom lip was swollen where she'd bitten it. Her face was pale and pinched, showing her pain plainly. Not only the way her leg throbbed with every step, but the other stuff too—the crushing sadness she felt for the dead girl, and the heartache threatening to consume her if she thought too long about Tristan.
    Where was he?
    What was he doing?
    Did he intend to come for her here?
    Was it over between them?
    She had so many questions, and no answers. All she had was hope, and she wasn't sure that would be enough, not when someone else had died while she and Tristan were wrapped up in each other, consumed by the desire raging like an inferno between them.
    "Let’s go," Michael said when the elevator dinged at the top floor. Tristan's floor.
    Lillian hesitated once more. "I–"
    He cocked a brow.
    "Never mind," she said and followed him out of the elevators before the doors closed on her. As she feared, he immediately started strolling toward Tristan's penthouse, oblivious to the