His avoidance of my question only irritates me more. “Is Santi okay?”

“Yes.” His eyes soften at the concern in my voice.

“And Ivy?”

“The same,” he says quietly.

I nod and get up, too tired to argue and not entirely sure I even want to know the reason behind the tension in his eyes. Things have only just begun to settle down, and I’m not certain I can handle anything else right now.

“Don’t you have to work today?” I wander into my closet and start rifling through a section of dresses where Lois and Miriam aren’t packing.

“I took the day off,” Judge says from behind me. “Wear leggings.”

I find it an odd request and wonder if it’s a personal preference or if there’s a reason behind it. But when I arch an eyebrow at him over my shoulder, all I receive in answer is a stony expression. The old me would have worn a dress just to be difficult, but I find that I don’t feel like arguing with Judge today. So I grab a pair of leggings and an oversized tee shirt and go into the bathroom to change.

When I exit, he’s waiting for me by the door to my bedroom, staring at what I know is my phone. By the renewed tension in his shoulders, I imagine he’s seen something he doesn’t like, but I can’t think of what it might be. Other than the texts from Georgie, of course.

“Everything okay?” I ask, and he shoves it into his pocket, jerking his chin at me.

“Let’s go.”

As we climb into the Rolls Royce, it doesn’t escape my notice that a guard from IVI sits in the front seat beside Raul. If that wasn’t strange enough, another car waits behind us with three more.

Judge secures my seat belt for me absently even though I’m more than capable of doing it myself, and then we sit in stilted silence as Raul navigates us to wherever we’re going.

“Judge.”

He doesn’t even seem to hear me, his gaze trapped outside the window, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“Judge.” I touch his face, and he blinks. He looks at me, and something strange flickers through his eyes. Something that makes me nervous because he looks concerned.

“Is there anything else you need to tell me, Mercedes?” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“Are there any other unfinished schemes in your past I need to be aware of?” His eyes narrow slightly.

“No.” My hand falls away. “Why?”

“Why were you in my office last night?” he demands. “What were you really looking for on your phone?”

Well, shit. I knew this question would come back to haunt me today, but I just didn’t think it would be so head-on.