I tossed my comforter aside, feeling around for my slippers on the carpet next to my bed, and then padding out to the living room. I turned down the thermostat a few degrees and then sat down on my sofa and picked up the remote. A news program came on, and I turned the volume low, not necessarily wanting to get invested in a show but craving the noise, the voices. I felt…lonely.

Why do I feel lonely?

That was ridiculous, of course. I was surrounded by people all day long. I rarely, if ever, got any time to myself. Sitting alone like this should be a luxury. Sure, I wished Charlie hadn’t had to jet off to a publicity event for his next movie, but he’d be back in a couple of days. And I’d talk to him on the phone multiple times before that.

A small sound pinged out on my balcony, and I turned in that direction, nerves jittering under my skin.

What was that?

I waited, and a few seconds later, it happened again. A shadow moved outside, and I let out a small squeal, sliding down low on the sofa and then crouch-walking to my bedroom.

It’s just a piece of ivy blowing in the breeze.

But what if it isn’t?

I locked my bedroom door and hurried to where I’d left my phone on my bedside table. It was probably nothing. I was sure it was nothing.

But I did have a bodyguard.

I paid him to provide me peace of mind in the event a psychopath had somehow scaled my building and was trying to break into my apartment via the patio.

He answered on the second ring, sounding like I’d pulled him from sleep. “Hello?”

“Tuck?”

“Em?” I heard the creak of a bedspring as though he’d sat up. Or someone else had turned toward him. My heart picked up speed. “Are you okay?”

I paused, listening for a moment. When I didn’t hear anything—or anyone—in the background, I let out a breath. “I heard a noise on my patio.”

“A noise? What kind of noise?”

“I don’t know. Like someone—”

“Someone?” More rustling as though he was pulling on clothes.

“Or something. I don’t know. It just…it made me nervous.”

“Okay. I’m on my way. Go in your bedroom and lock the door.”

“That’s where I’m calling from.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

I hung up, pacing as I waited, attempting to hear through the door anything that might be happening on the patio, but no sounds met my ears. Either it really was nothing, or the person was being exceedingly quiet.

Tuck was true to his word, and a text came through my phone exactly ten minutes later, asking me to open my door.