ight to voicemail. I sent a text. No reply. This was his pattern: a cru

lating through our social circle. Julian Hayes had a new obsession, a girl who looked eeril

being phased out for th

e talking. Julian was seen with her at a charity breakfast. He introduced h

y the same th

hing in my throat. I had overheard it at a gallery opening last week. He had said it

e wasn't the possessive pride he showed with me. It was something els

my eyes, and waves of nausea washed over me without warning. I was a ghost in m

me. I answered, my heart

pped, business-like. "I need

ait

obe. Something suitable for the events she'

away. He wanted me to dress my own replacement. To pe

of my phone. My face was pale, my eyes shad

feel well," I sai

l be there in an hour to pick you up. Chloe is already

er. The command was absolute. I was his

ace. For a moment, I saw the hopeful young artist I used to

The sound was a summons, pulling

ple white dress. She looked impossibly young and bright. Julian was on the phone nearby, but hi

ded his call. Hi

" he said, hi

thing. Gowns, cocktail dresses, casual wear

fect mask of shy reluctance. "Oh, Julian,

"Eleanor will help you. She knows what l

e jab, a reminder of my lo

sionalism the only armor I had le

ething in them-not innocence, but a sharp, calculating gleam that was gone as