Chapter Seventeen
From the aerial view on my computer I saw the small greenhouse full of lush plants. The elaborate black iron table and chairs for dining. The expanse of wooden deck and brick walls. It’s a beautiful space, meant to be enjoyed, meant to be lived in. The only person who comes up here is the caretaker. Not Bea, even though she’s the only occupant of L’Etoile allowed to use the space.
The elevator doors begin to close behind me. I put my hand out to stop them. Bea looks at me with wide, unblinking eyes. Like a rabbit, I think. Too afraid to run away.
“Come here,” I murmur.
A jerky shake of her head. “Can’t,” she says between gritted teeth.
“What will happen if you come?”
“I don’t know.” Her gaze darts behind me. The view is peaceful, but her expression is full of turmoi
