“If it was so goddamned perfect, why are you hiding it?”

“I’m not hiding it! I told you back on Saint Thomas, we were middle-class perfect. And you know what?” She points her polished finger up at my face. “Fuck you for bringing my dead parents into this. That is so rude.”

She makes for the door and I grab her by the wrist. “You’re not leaving here. You don’t get to just say, Whoops, I can’t remember last night, and walk the f**k out.”

“Watch me,” she snarls back. “And that hurts,” she says, yanking her arm. I let go of her wrist before I leave a bruise and she walks towards the door.

“Grace, wait.”

“I can’t, Asher! I have a f**king wedding to get to, OK? I’m here working, ya know. I have a job. It’s a f**king weekday, for f**k’s sake. I’m busy.” And then she pulls the room door open and walks through.

I follow her. “Just hold on a second. How much do you remember about last night?”

She punches the button for the elevator and taps her foot. She’s still wearing that blue work dress and in the light of day, with her hair brushed out and all her makeup washed off her face, she does, in fact, look like a woman going to work. “Nothing,” she rockets back, before she even thinks about the question.

“That’s not even possible. Tell me the last thing you remember.”

“Dinner, at the restaurant. After you won me in a poker game.”

Fuck. You have got to be kidding me. “It was baccarat. And I know you remember more than that. We came up here, we had dinner up here. Remember? We didn’t eat at that restaurant. We came up here and you sat in my lap—”

“And then I told you about my childhood? I highly doubt that, Asher. I don’t talk about it. It hurts too much. I lost my parents and then I moved on.” She whirls around to look me in the eye for this part. “I do not talk about it. So if you are trying to trap me and make me think that I promised to tell you things, that’s not going to happen.”

I just stare at her. I’m living a nightmare. I’m seriously living a nightmare. Where do I even start to explain? We had all these conversations and now she can’t remember? “I already know what happened, Grace. I told you last night, Felicity found some things locked way in your juvenile record—”

She slaps me across the face. “You’re spying on me!” She slaps me again, harder. “How f**king dare you spy on me! It’s one thing to give me money to dole out to charities, or fill my Starbucks card up with enough cash to buy five years’ worth of coffee. But to actually have that girl dig through my sealed f**king records! You have gone too far, buddy.”

The elevator dings and the doors open. It’s empty, thank God. Grace storms in and then turns around, trying to block me from joining her. “No way,” she says, her arms outstretched across the doorway, trying to prevent me from entering. “I need to go to work and you’re not following me there.”

I push right past her and then grab her hand before she can storm out of the elevator. “Let go,” she says. “Or I will scream.”

The doors close and I let go as we descend. “No, I’m not letting you run away this time, Grace. You’re mine now and I’m responsible for you. We’re having this conversation and your friend’s wedding can wait.”

“It’s my job, Asher—”

“Quit f**king calling me that. It’s insulting and you know it.”

“Oh, now I have to call you master in public too?”

I scrub my hands down my face and let out a long breath. “Look, let’s just start this day over, OK? Last night was so perfect, it’s a shame to spoil it. We can talk about your childhood later.”

“We’re not talking about anything, Asher. In fact, I think this whole movie-star crush thing has run its course. I’m not gonna see you again.”

“What? You’re crazy. So I know what happened to you. Who cares? Just talk to me about it. I know they let you off and the charges were dropped.”

Her mouth literally falls open.

“Grace, I told you I know.”

“What do you know?” she growls. “What do you think you know?”

“I know that whatever happened, you didn’t kill them.” She turns completely white and I almost get sick watching her come to terms with this. “Grace, just calm down, would you? It’s OK, I know there has to be a good explanation for whatever happened. So just tell me what it is.”

The doors ding open and we find a crowd of people waiting for the elevator. Grace darts out, stopping to look left and right. “I didn’t want to come to the lobby.”

“We never pushed the button, it brought us here.” I take her arm gently and lead her away from the crowds. I have no shirt on, and I’m regretting that immediately. I’m regretting coming down here at all, because people are beginning to recognize me. “Grace, come with me. The media is probably around. I don’t want you—”

“Mr. Asher!” they start yelling from down the hall.

I look back at the elevators, but none are available. “Grace, stay close, baby. We gotta make a run for it.”

She yanks free from my embrace and turns to point at me again. I draw back a little, afraid she’s gonna start with the slapping. “I’m not going anywhere with you, you spy! You have no right to pry into my personal life. None. I’m appalled and sickened that you would stoop so low. Kill them? You think I killed them? Fuck you! Just f**k you!”