After a quick shower, she put on a discreet amount of makeup, though she had to do extra touching up in those places where her skin was still discolored. She looked at herself, turning first to the right and then to the left, checking to see if the bruises showed through the layers of makeup. She reluctantly dabbed on a little extra blush and decided that would have to do.

With her briefcase in one hand and her overcoat in the other, she went down to the basement. Her high heels drummed rhythmically as she walked quickly over the concrete in the garage. She unlocked her black BMW X6 from thirty feet away and placed her briefcase on the black leather passenger seat.

A shiver went down her back. She felt ready to work, again checking her face in the mirror, repeating to herself that no one would suspect anything through the makeup.

But she was still nervous. She hesitated a moment before pushing the start button and driving out of the garage.

* * *

Anneli Lindgren sat on the edge of the bed, her hair loose and not yet brushed. She opened her nightstand drawer and took out a pair of heart-shaped diamond earrings, weighing them in her hand. She carefully fastened them to her ears and stood, remaining there for a moment in her nightgown, gazing out the window. The wind rustled the frosty leaves on the trees. A rabbit bounded away, and she followed it with her eyes until it disappeared into a yard.

She lifted her hand to her ear, twisting one of the earrings and thinking about when she had received them. It was a long time ago now, during a period when everything had been different, free. She still remembered that time in his apartment, how she had looked at him with red, warm cheeks. He had opened a dresser drawer, taken out a plastic fastener and a soft whip, forcing her arms up over her head. She’d lain on the bed protesting, keeping her legs together, twisting away when he pulled her panties down. He’d hovered over her, kneeling, watching her attempts to get free. He had smiled when he began to caress her from her knees up to her upper thighs, smiled even wider when she had stopped protesting, spread her legs and let him enter her.

He had carried the package in his sport coat, then placed it on her naked stomach and said something that sounded like love. But she hadn’t been looking for love—she had only wanted to quench her desire. For once, at least, she had been able to give herself up to the desire she felt for him.

For Anders.

“The meeting starts in ten minutes.”

The door to the bedroom squeaked when Gunnar came in with a towel around his hips.

“Yep...” she said absentmindedly.