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join the crinkle in her eyes. “Especially the fathers.” I feel my face go up in flames. “The girls were enthralled.” The expression on her face takes a kind tone.
    “However, it has nothing to do with the reason I’ve requested to speak to you, Miss Mitchell. The reason I’ve asked you to come in is, in your application you’ve noted that you’d be interested in working as many hours as possible. There aren’t any other spots left beside your current classes that I could offer you at this point. Thankfully we are fully staffed.”
    My eyebrows pull in as I wait for her to go on.
    “There’s a…” She halts for a short pause, considering her next words. “Sweet young girl that needs some extra attention. Her parents would like her to have a few private lessons, and I thought you’d be the perfect person for the job.”
    “Oh, this is good news,” I say, surprise lacing my words. “What made you think I was the right person for the job?”
    Her lips pull into a small, cheeky curve. “Call it a hunch, dear.”
    ~~~
    Late evening finds me slumped on my new, soft grey sofa, feet on the small glass coffee table above a furry cream rug. I’m bathed, exhausted, and to a degree, content. I spent the entire day organizing my new home. I literally stormed through the 2 bedroom apartment, putting to place everything in my path with not a moment of rest. The grumble coming from my stomach reminds me that the coffees in the morning were the only “food” I’ve had today.
    Heading toward the kitchen, I freeze in place when a loud sound cracks the silence of my home, a sound of something shuttering coming from upstairs. Another thud that sounds like an object crashing to the floor above me makes me flinch. At the third one the hair on the back of my neck rises in tandem to a wave of panic that washes over me. I wait with my breath held for a few moments and another crush booms my quiet apartment. Disregarding the many warning sirens hollering inside my head, I slide into my red flats, and rush out the door.
    The hint of violence, the fear of someone being in danger or threat, is stronger than any survival instincts I might possess. My heart bangs in wild beats as I stand before the door of the apartment located just above mine: 3012-B. I knock on the door and wait. When no answer comes, I knock again, persistent, resilient knocks.

Chapter 9
    Reeves
     
    The knock on the door makes me halt with a piece of an honorary ornament at midair, another reward that was on its way to crash with the floor, courtesy of my recent frustration tantrum. I put the silver-glass object back to the shelf, and cover my face with both hands. I raise my head to the ceiling, inhale deeply, and with closed eyes under the shield of my palms, wait.
    No one even knows I moved in, at least not anyone who would drop by for a “friendly” visit, unannounced. Fragments of sentences and words from the conversation with Hunter earlier today spinning through my head add fuel to my colossal mindfuck. The thought about sitting this operation out drives me up the wall. I’d never dream of defying Hunter, though I must admit, the idea is way too tempting. The knocks on the door start anew, yanking me back from my contemplative state. This time they are heavier and much more determined, urging me to check who it might be.
    I’m not sure what startles me more, the person at my doorstep, her appearance, or the look in her eyes. For a stretched, stunned moment, we just stare at each other, confused. Our odd silence is broken by a collision of our voices as in unison we blurt one another’s names.
    “Nia.”
    “Reeves.”
    Her name on my lips is a firm utterance, holding a mildly rough edge. My name coming out of her mouth is but a soft, muddled breath. My brows sink in, I’m still shaking off the boiling anger her knocks pulled me out of, while she studies me carefully, in silence.
    “Yes…?” I question. She seems to be weighing her next