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I approach and extend my hand. She hesitates, then takes it. Her fingers are icy cold against mine. “You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” she cries. Still petrified about something.
“Okay,” I say, my voice calm and reassuring. “I won’t call the police. But you have to tell me what the problem is. What are you running from?”
Her shoulders slump, the tension draining from her.
She takes a deep, shuddering breath.
“Talk to me,” I urge her. “Why are you here?”
She bites her lip, looking down at her hands. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Davenport. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Felix canceled the credit card I was using to stay in the hotel, and I think he’s going to call the police because I used it. But I had no other way of paying for the hotel and—” The hysteria rises in her voice again.
I hold up my hand to stop her. “It’s fine, Amelia. You should have told me. I could have helped you. You should have asked me.”
“I only knew that I had nowhere to stay when he called me after I used the gym earlier. And as I was already here, I—” Her eyes snap up to meet mine. “I can find another place to stay tomorrow. I just—”
“No, it’s okay. You can stay here for now.” I pause, contemplating my next words. “But perhaps we should keep this between us, for now.”
She nods, looking relieved. “Of course, Mr. Davenport. Thank you. I won’t forget this. I’ll repay you by working extra hours.”
While Amelia sits back on the couch, trembling, I find the guard and thank him for his vigilance. After excusing him, I wait for him to step into the elevator, then I go back to Amelia.
Her azure eyes are on mine, waiting for me to leave, too, no doubt.
“Get your things. You can stay at my penthouse.”
“What?” Her eyes open wide. “No. I can’t.”
“You can. Come on.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod.
She gathers her belongings from the floor. “Are you sure you want me to stay at your penthouse?”
“It’s temporary because I like my space.” I nod.
“Of course.”
“But you can stay for a few days. Until we get you sorted with somewhere else to stay.”
She smiles as she looks at me. “Thank you,” she whispers. “That will be enough time for me to find a place.”
Amelia stares out of the window as the city lights blur into streaks of color. Only the hum of the engine fills the silence between us.
I speak first. “I take it you have got no savings to put a deposit down on an apartment?”
She takes in a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “I’ll need to find someone to share with. I can’t afford an apartment by myself. Not in the city, anyway.”
The admission surprises me. I grew up in privilege, never needing to think about money or how to stretch it. The idea of struggling for rent feels foreign.
“You’d think living in New York wouldn’t be that bad on your salary,” I say, trying to understand her situation.
“It’s more than rent,” she replies quietly. “Utilities, groceries...everything adds up.”
The weight of her words hangs in the air, heavy and real for her.