Escaping Reality

elevator.
    Confused, I open my mouth to call after him and snap it shut. It’s
    midnight. People are sleeping. He steps into the elevator and regardless of
    what he’s planning I know he’ll be back, which means I need to act fast. I
    unlock the door, flip on the light and tug my suitcase and bag along with
    me.
    A small hallway leads past a kitchen to my left and directly into a
    large open-concept dining and living area. Thankfully, I do have furniture,
    which is more than I had when I was sent to New York. I scan and quickly
    dismiss the overstuffed brown couch and two chairs. It’s the envelope
    sitting on a simple wooden dining table that has my attention. I set my bag
    down and sink into one of four chairs, reaching for the envelope. The
    contents I find inside are disappointingly uninformative. There is only a
    lease to the apartment with a note telling me to sign it and drop it by a real
    estate agent’s office. The first month’s rent is paid. Nothing else.
    Absolutely nothing. No information about what has happened. No
    words to explain the threat I might be under. No triangle symbol. It’s not
    there. My heart starts to race. There is supposed to be a symbol on any
    instructions I get. I don’t know what this means. Maybe he thought this
    note was an extension of the last so it didn’t need it? I can’t think. I have to
    get rid of Liam and go to a bank machine and see how much money I have
    to live on. Should I run? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I have to take one
    thing at a time. Liam first. The rest later.
    Shoving away from the table, I rush back to the door, and open it,
    gasping when I find Liam standing there, dark blue t-shirt stretched over his
    impressive chest, and he doesn’t look happy. “I told you not to go inside. It
    wasn’t safe.”
    If having him, or anyone for that matter, worry about me didn’t feel
    so good I might have bristled at his reprimand. “Well,” I say, “as you see, I
    did go inside, and I’m happy to report that Godzilla is nowhere in sight.”
    He does not look any more pleased than moments before. “We’ll talk
    about that later.”
    My brows dip. I’m not sure I’m processing all content properly right
    now. Why wasn’t the symbol on the note? “Talk about what?”
    “Later,” he repeats tightly, and hands me an iPad. “My Wikipedia
    page is up. Look it over. There’s a hotel directly across the street. I’ll get a
    room and suggestions for places to eat that will still be open.”
    My eyes go wide. “You have a Wiki page?”
    “Yes. I have a Wiki page, and despite the unauthorized information it
    contains, it’s fairly accurate. I’m going to check into my hotel. I’ll be back to
    get you in a few.” He starts to turn away.
    “Liam, wait.” He pauses and looks at me. “You do know that I don’t
    have a Wiki page.
    I’m not a model or an actress or a celebrity of any kind. I’m not even
    a secret heiress to a mega-fortune.”
    “You’re you. That’s what counts.” He turns away again and I don’t
    stop him.
    You’re you, he’d said. Only that’s the whole problem. I’m not me.

Chapter Five

    Rich, sexy, and powerful no longer seems an adequate description.
    Liam Stone is, per Wikipedia, a reclusive billionaire and philanthropist who
    lost both of his parents at a young age and was taken in by one of the most
    famous architects who ever lived. Liam inherited his mentor’s extreme
    wealth and apparently, his skill. At the young age of thirty-one (apparently
    most architects are older when, and if, they become established) Liam is
    the highest-paid living architect, and is considered an architectural prodigy.
    Setting the iPad aside, I press my fingers to my throbbing temples.
    It’s almost comical that I actually thought Liam could be my handler. He has
    far more to occupy himself with than little ol’ me, and I really don’t know
    why he’s hovering around me at this point. Well, except maybe he just
    wants to have sex. I’m not above admitting it’s on my mind. Heck, maybe I
    should just embrace a potential one-night stand and let Liam take me away
    for a few hours. Whatever awaits me tomorrow will still await me
    tomorrow. It might even stop me from melting down. So why do I feel so
    let down that this thing with him isn’t more? I can’t have more. There is
    no “more” for me. I went to the door to get rid of him. When he comes
    back I should pretend I’m not here.
    A knock sounds and I discard