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Olivia was over the moon when I called her back and told her that Orlando was back on board. Listening to her prattle on about how wonderful I was, while slightly enjoyable at first, quickly started to grate on my nerves, which in turn made me feel very, very tired. I told her in no uncertain terms that I had to go, and went into my bedroom to get some sleep.

But sleep eluded me. I laid in my bed, with Sherman purring contentedly at my side, staring out the window at the sky that would never be completely black because of the light from the still-bustling city, waiting for the blessed unconscious to take over, but it just didn’t come. My mind whirred, replaying the things Orlando had said, the way his voice changed when he was being charming, the flush I’d felt at his admission that he wanted to meet me.

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