Everything you want is on the other side of fear.

Once back in my room, I debate leaving the door open for several minutes, but I decide to close it just in case someone comes in and is predisposed to asking questions.

A half hour later, I’ve showered and ordered espresso.

The majordomo knocks, and I open the door wrapped in a fluffy white robe. But he doesn’t just have my espresso. He also has a box on the tray that’s the size of a ream of paper.

“Good morning, Ms. Gable. Mr. Riscoff thought you might need additional stationery for your room, along with some writing utensils.”

My jaw slackens. Lincoln sent me paper. A sharp pang hits me in the chest but blooms into a cloud of warmth.

“Thank you,” I say through the lump that has taken up residence in my throat.

“Of course. And if you need additional paper, pens, or anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask. Also, if you’ve made your selections, I’m happy to take your breakfast order.”

I rattle off something that I can’t remember as soon as the request leaves my mouth because I’m too caught up in the paper that’s now sitting on a tray on the desk. I whisper my thanks one more time before the majordomo disappears, and I stare at the box for long moments before my attention goes back to the door that leads to Lincoln’s suite.

I open the box of stationery, grab the pen, and write a quick note to Lincoln. I slip back into his room, leave it on the matching desk, and hurry back out as though I’m more worried about being caught in there now than I was when I was ordering him to jack off for me so I could finger myself on his bed.

I can’t wipe the secret smile off my face until I answer the knock on my door for breakfast.

An hour later, after I’ve eaten my spinach-and-ham omelet, I decide to take advantage of the sunny day and lay out on the terrace.

No clouds in the sky.

Which is why I’m sweating within minutes and wishing I had a pool.

Which I do. All I have to do is leave my room and risk running into another human.

Everything you want is on the other side of fear. My mantra from last night echoes in my head.

Screw it. I load up my stuff and make the trek down the hallway, through the lounge, to the beautiful patio and crystal-blue water. Karma and the girls are nowhere to be seen, and neither is anyone else.

See? That wasn’t difficult at all.

I choose a reclining lounger that’s in the sun, but with an umbrella nearby, and lie on my stomach, jotting down words and phrases that mean nothing together. That’s how my brain works. I write stream-of-consciousness style, putting whatever comes through my head onto paper, and then I piece it together like a puzzle when a pattern emerges.