Page 49 of Arranged Control

Istand in the back corner of Sistine folding the same stack of shirts over and over again, not really paying much attention to what I’m doing.

It’s a quiet day. At least Finn isn’t lurking around scaring away our customers. A big man with a neck like a tree trunk stopped by a couple of minutes after we opened to introduce himself as my personal guard. He has a thick Scottish accent and didn’t seem like the type to talk much. I haven’t seen him or his team since, which is exactly what I wanted.

I don’t feel safe though.

The note’s in my pocket. I keep touching it as I fold and fold and fold. There are too many unanswered questions, and the more I worry at them, the thicker and heavier my anxiety becomes.

“You know, eventually those shirts are going to crumble to dust.” Kira peers at me from the front counter. She’s frowning slightly.

“What do you mean?”

She mimes tossing dust into the air. “You’re stress folding again.”

“Again? Do I do this a lot?”

“All the time. But this one’s a doozy. I think you’ve been back there for like an hour now.”

I stare at the stack of shirts. “It’s not perfect.”

“It never will be at that rate.”

I force myself to unclench my jaw and step away from the folding table. Kira watches as I come around and slump down onto a stool set out behind her. There’s nobody in the shop except for us, but I feel like I’m being watched all the time.

“Can I tell you something?” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “It’s a huge secret.”

“Oh, yeah? A naughty secret?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down.

“No, not a fun one, unfortunately. Just the normal boring type of secret.”

“What’s going on?”

I take the note from my pocket and smooth it out on the counter. She stares at the paper, her lips tugging into a deep frown as she reads it, flips it over, and reads it again.

“I found that a couple nights ago. I have no idea where it came from. There was a noise downstairs in my apartment, and when I went to check it out, that note was waiting for me.”

“Seriously?” She stares at the paper like she might be able to see some kind of incriminating DNA. “That’s insanely creepy.”

“I know, right? I don’t understand who would write something like that.”

“And they broke into your apartment to leave it?”

“I think so? I really don’t know where it came from. The more I think about that night, the more I’m wondering if I made the whole thing up and just sleepwalked myself into writing the note.”

Kira grabs a pen and some scrap paper, shoving both at me. “Let’s test that theory.”

I write out the note several times in a bunch of different ways with both hands. None of them look close to the mystery handwriting.

“You know the worst part? Seamus heard me moving around downstairs that night and came to check out what was happening. I meant to tell him about it, but I got, uh, distracted, and I haven’t been able to bring it up since.”

Kira’s eyes brighten and she sits up. “Distracted how, exactly?”

“You don’t need to know the details.”

“Now I absolutely do.”

I feel my cheeks burn bright red. We’ve talked about intimate stuff before, or at least Kira talked about it and I listened, but I suddenly feel strangely vulnerable. It’s not like I broke any rules, right? Sleeping with my husband is basically encouraged.

I’m supposed to be fucking him like a rabbit.