The Dream

I run like he's chasing me, and maybe he is. The elevator can't climb fast enough. My keycard fumbles three times before the lock finally gives, and I stumble into my room, slamming the door behind me like it can keep out ghosts. Was it him? The man in the lobby—was it really Victor, or am I so broken that I see him everywhere? My hands shake as I dead-bolt the door. Chain it. Press my back against the wood and slide down until I'm sitting on the floor, breathing hard, my mind spinning with questions I'm terrified to answer. If it was him, how did he find me? Holly swore she wouldn't tell. My social media is locked down. I've been careful, so careful, to leave no trail. But this is Victor Ashford. The man who built an empire before thirty. The man who controlled me through screens and shadows for months without me knowing. Finding one woman in Tokyo would be child's play for someone like him. My phone stays silent. No messages. No calls. Just the ghostly memory of those shoulders, that