Page 53 of Glass Spinner

Not breaking through her defences, but reminding her who she was before the aliases, the jobs, the paranoia. Back when she still believed in the possibility of something simple and good.

Marise closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She couldn’t keep doing this.

She’d been sent to gather intel. To find out what Kathleen was developing and report back. That was the mission. The payday.

She’d stepped into this assignment with clear rules—be professional and keep her distance. Veronica Hale was only a tool. A part she could slip in and out of like the silk dresses in her wardrobe. She'd kiss, fake affection, but always with one hand on the exit.

But last night had been real.

Kathleen hadn’t been a mark. Not in that moment. She’d been warm, open, trembling with something fragile and hopeful. And Marise—goddamn her—had responded not as a professional but as a woman starved for sincerity.

She could still feel the way Kathleen had clung to her after her climax, her cheek pressed to Marise’s shoulder like she never wanted to let her go. No one in all her years had touched her deeply like that. It wasn’t sex. It was something far more intimate.

Something terrifying.

Marise got up abruptly and moved to the window. The skyline was grey and flat, the kind of New York morning that looked cold even when it wasn’t. Below, people looked like ants on the streets. The world went on, oblivious to the turmoil inside her.

She told herself it was fine. Kathleen didn’t suspect anything—how could she? She still believedVeronicawas an expensive companion who enjoyed kayaking and vintage cars. Marise had fed her half-truths wrapped in practiced smiles. But how long could that hold?

She turned from the window, crossed to the bar cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of bourbon. Though it was far too early, she didn’t care. She poured a measure into a glass and stared at it, fingers curled tightly. Then she swallowed it in two gulps, welcoming the burn in her stomach.

You don’t get to keep her.

But it was fucking worse now. She wanted to protect her.

It had always been a mystery how her employer had known Katheleen had rung the agency. While Kathleen was sleeping, she’d pulled her phone apart and she’d found a bug inside. They were tracking her every move—probably had her under surveillance as well.

She should walk away. Email her employer and tell them what she knew. That whatever experiment Kathleen had been working on was a success and near completion. Ted had told her that much. Forfeit the rest of the money—she’d earned her ten percent.

But she couldn’t. If she left, they’d probably send in some goon to rough Kathleen up to find out what they wanted to know.

Her phone buzzed breaking her thoughts. Marise checked the screen:Elise. She picked it up with a sigh. “Veronica speaking.”

“Good morning, Veronica. My apology for the intrusion, I know you're on a break but something has come up.”

Marise felt the tension creep back into her shoulders. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s Darlene Hunt. She’s requested your company Saturday night.”

Marise’s hand curled into a fist. “Sorry. She’ll have to engage someone else.”

Elise hesitated before she said, “She’s become…difficult. She complained about client prioritisation.”

Marise muttered, turning away from the window. “That’s ridiculous. Did you tell her I’ve taken ten days off?”

Elise made a huffing sound. “She’s a very wealthy woman with a lot of influence. She knows how to tarnish our image. Would you consider doing Saturday night.”

“I understand,” Marise said calmly. “But I’m afraid I’m not available.”

There was a pause on the other end. “For Saturday?”

“For the next ten days,” Marise said. “I’m out of town on personal leave.”

Elise replied after a pause, “Very well. I’ll inform her you’re away. But when you return, we’ll need to revisit the booking structure.”

“I understand,” Marise said. “Have a good day.”

She hung up before Elise could speak again. The Langford had served its purpose. Tomorrow, she would send Elise an email, resigning from the agency. She would say, very regretfully, that due to unforeseen circumstances, she could no longer work as an escort for them.