I shuddered and shook my head. “No, that’s the really weird part. It sounds like whoever it was just … stood there, watching me sleep.”

Max’s eyes widened so much I could see the whites all around his irises. “That’s straight out of a nightmare. Are you okay?”

“I mean …” I trailed off, unwilling to say No, I’m not okay even though it was the truth. “Here’s the thing: I don’t use the app every night. So this apparently happened a couple of weeks ago, but I just listened to the recording today. And now I can’t stop wondering if this has happened other times. What if someone has been in my apartment more than that—what if they’re in there regularly—and it’s only by chance that I heard it this once?”

“God,” he muttered, rubbing his mouth with his hand. “You’re not still staying there, right?”

“Cat said I could sleep at her place, but I don’t know. She’s been so busy with work lately, even more than usual. I mean, you know how she is.”

“She can be intense, I know, but, Audrey, you can’t stay in that apartment. Not until the police have caught this creep.”

I turned my attention to my Negroni, rattling the ice in the glass. “I haven’t called the police.”

“What? Why not?”

“You’d have to hear the recording to understand, but … two people I trust thought it might just be me. So, I mean, if both of these people think it’s me, what are the police going to think?”

“But you don’t think it’s you,” he said slowly. “I can tell by the look on your face.”

I forced a shrug. “It’s hard to tell.”

“Listen,” he said, taking my hand across the table. “If you think someone was in your apartment, I believe you. And I know I’m just a guy you barely know, but if you don’t want to stay with Cat, you’re more than welcome to stay with me.”

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach when Max’s hand closed over mine, and I involuntarily licked my lips. I met his eyes, looking at me seriously from underneath bovine lashes, and lost interest in discussing what had happened in my bedroom all those weeks ago. I was suddenly much more interested in what might be happening in Max’s bedroom that night.

I cracked a grin and teased, “Max Metcalf, are you trying to get me into bed?”

His cheeks flushed scarlet. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, you can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. I just—”

“Shut up,” I said gently. “Why don’t we get the check?”

“THIS IS INCREDIBLE,” I said, heading directly for Max’s wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. My nose bumped the glass as I admired the vantage point from his seventh-floor unit. I stepped backward as a slight wave of vertigo swept over me, and turned to Max. “That mansion you took me to had an incredible view, but this one is an extremely close second. I mean, you can see the Washington Monument!”