“No.”
“Yes. I care about Lyosha too, Tolyan. I’m not going to sit here if that means keeping you away from him.”
“The wait’s going to be long, and there’re too many unpredictable variables at the hospital.” He shakes his head. “All those people going in and out. You’ll be too exposed with only me there.”
I place my hands on my hips. “It’s your choice. Either you go, or I go with you. Look, it’s a little after ten thirty now. Dominic said he’d be back before lunch. I’ll be okay for a couple of hours on my own. Nobody can come to this floor without using their fingerprints or getting buzzed in.”
Tolyan rolls his head left and right, then looks at the phone that’s still in his hand. “God damn it. Okay. I’m going, but call me if there’s anything’s. Anything. Got it?”
“Yes.”
“I’m also texting Dominic and Antoine so they know what’s going on.”
“Okay.”
He levels an index finger at me like the barrel of a cannon, his expression tight. “Don’t let anybody in, even if they’re carrying a vat of vodka and chocolate and flowers.”
“I won’t.” I gesture at the wet bar. “Dominic has plenty of vodka.”
“Not the fucking point,” he mutters, sighs when I smile at him, then leaves.
The penthouse feels extra empty without anybody else around.
I turn off the TV and go upstairs, determined to use the next hour or two to finish my painting. I haven’t had much time to devote to it since returning to L.A. The foundation has needed my attention, and I’ve given it a lot to make sure we’re going to be on target for all the major fundraisers and projects.
As I change into an old shirt and jeans, I pause. Why have I not felt suffocated in the office over the last three weeks? I often used to, even as the people we helped smiled at me from the pictures on the walls. I should’ve been feeling worse, knowing that Andy’s out there and what with Tolyan tagging after me everywhere.
But I haven’t.
I stand in front of the canvas. Every time I do this, I feel close to my grandfather. But this time, I close my eyes and imagine I can also see Shirley—her cool gray eyes, her smooth diction.
“Mom told me how she got you to make me promise to give up art forever. I broke that promise weeks ago on Dominic’s private island. I’m sorry I broke the promise, but I’m not sorry I painted. I love it, Grandma. It makes me feel more complete, more in touch with my heart…and I think that makes me a better leader for the family foundation. That was what you wanted, right?” I exhale softly. “You told me a Pryce is proud, knows what she wants, doesn’t cower before the world and doesn’t back down from anything. I know what I want—I want it all. I’m not giving up my dreams or love. But I promise you, I’ll never neglect the foundation and its mission. Making the world a better place is my wish, too.”
I exhale again, and feel like there’s light filling my heart. If there’s another world where people go after they die, Grandma Shirley is probably okay with my decision.
My phone rings. It’s a Skype video chat request from Kristen. I can’t imagine what she needs a video call for. Her usual preference is texts and calls, in that order.
I hit answer, in case it’s important. Everything inside me stills, then starts shaking like my body is having a monster earthquake.
On the screen is Andy.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Elizabeth
“Hello, Elizabeth.” Andy’s purring voice comes through, smooth and creepy, through the speaker. “I know you’re home. Alone.”
The pulse in my throat beats so hard, I feel like it’s blocking my air passage every time it throbs.
“I’ve been watching. Watching, watching, watching. It’s so fun to see you live like nothing’s wrong, while I’m watching. I’m sure that’s how lions feel, watching their prey.”
“Lionesses,” I rasp.
“What?”
“Lionesses. Only female lions hunt. Males don’t.” I have no idea why I’m telling him this. It’s like the connector between my brain and mouth got cut off. I have a psycho serial rapist and killer right on the phone. I need to do something.