Chapter 6

The next day, I timed my descent down the stairs. Lucas was leaning against the sofa, meticulously instructing Martha about the evening's party arrangements.

Broken strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, giving the usually composed man a hint of youthful carelessness.

Brittany, in a white cocktail dress, leaned casually against the armrest of the sofa. They were so close they were almost touching.

The suitcase was heavy, clattering loudly against the marble stairs. The few people in the living room paused, looking up at me. "Excuse me," I offered a polite, strained smile, trying to lift the heavy…