In his usual manner, Brendon stormed out of the house, completely unaware of - or uncaring for - the pain he caused me. For the first time since I married him, I stood still in shock, not because I feared his disapproval, but because I didn't care. - Felicity’s Journal, March 10

*Come home, sis. I don’t want you to be alone.

*I’m not alone…

- Text exchange between Felicity Miller and her brother Nicholas Alexander, March 22

Early evening, March 12

Though she hadn’t felt concern about investigating Briel, as Felicity approached the apartment building, sheepishness collared her. She knew that, rationally, it made no sense to take such a risk. As she mounted the stairs to the second level, she had second thoughts – her slight claustrophobia kicked in at the narrow upward climb that stretched before her. The external steps ascended a poorly-lit interior stairwell which turned alternately north then south with a landing in between. Even though they had eaten an early dinner, the sun had grown large on the western horizon, and she felt certain that by the time she left, it would have set into dusk. Felicity forced herself forward as quietly as possible.

Removing her shoes, she continued to the third floor in her stocking feet, increasingly nervous that she might make a noise. Just before she reached the top, the sound of a voice arrested her. It spoke in Spanish, and she definitely recognized it. Circumstances had worked favorably for Felicity, and she had arrived just in time to hear but not to see Briel. If Felicity had arrived a moment earlier… Straining her ears to listen, Felicity stilled her breath. The resulting silence unveiled a one-sided conversation in a whispered tone. She has something to hide, Felicity smirked smugly.

“Estaba a su casa. El es loco, no?” Briel's voice queried. “Ayudarle? No, claramente no!”

At his house, Felicity translated silently. Not going to help him? The words meant nothing to Felicity, and when Briel pressed through the door out of the stairway, Felicity crept stealthily up to it, pressing her ear against the cold metal. After waiting until the voice faded nearly out of earshot, she cracked the door slightly and peeked through just in time to see Briel turn down a hallway lined with doorways. Felicity tiptoed to the hallway and peered briefly around the corner before pulling herself back. She steeled herself for a moment then rounded the corner in a slow, deliberate pursuit.

A narrow passageway greeted her straining eyes - a very dark pathway, even darker than the stairwell as most of the lights weren’t functioning properly. Felicity peered down the inky passage until her eyes grew a little more accustomed, then she began making her way down the hall. She paused frequently, stepping into each doorway niche she passed so she could reassess, make sure she hadn’t been detected.

Still, Briel rattled on. Finally, the nanny paused at a door, fumbling with her keys before entering what must be her apartment.

Ugh! Felicity complained. It seemed her mission would end unfruitful; she couldn't very well knock on the door and confront Briel directly. Unfortunately, Felicity had heard just enough to pique her curiosity but even more that told her to avoid confrontation.

“Yo se, yo se,” Felicity had heard Briel say. “Trabajo por usted, pero no puedo esperar hasta que haga algo malo. ¡Tengo que impedirlo!”

“I work for you,” Briel had said. What the heck did that mean? Did she have another job she hadn't told Felicity or Brendon about? Or had she been talking to Brendon on the phone? Felicity could think of no acceptable reason for such an exchange - especially considering the subject matter.

Someone was at someone's house. Okay, so what?

“I can't wait until he does something bad”? The more she thought about it, Briel's words revealed nothing sinister. But “Tengo que impedirle”? Felicity was pretty sure that “impedir” was impede, stop. How could Briel stop anyone from doing anything? 5'2” and barely breaking 100 pounds, Briel didn't look as if she could impede a kitten if it wanted to get past her. Felicity pondered for several minutes, standing unmoving in the hallway, uncertain of how long to wait or whether to give up completely.

Suddenly, a knock shattered Felicity's reverie and sent her heart racing into her throat. She knew that no one had passed her on the way down the hall, but the noise reminded her that she really didn't want to run into anyone in the dark, enclosed hallway. Pressing herself against the side wall of the threshold where she stood, she again held her breath, afraid that the noise of the ragged air whooshing through her tight lungs would betray her presence. She just needed to get out of there.

Briel's hiss pierced through the darkness, riveting Felicity to the spot. She couldn't very well leave until the conversation ended, not without being noticed.

“What are you doing here?” Briel demanded angrily, her slight Spanish lisp deepened by the intensity of her words, almost like a different accent. Felicity held her breath in anticipation of being discovered, but a deep male voice relieved her anxiety when it graveled a laugh.

“I came to see you, of course,” it purred. The rich baritone carried easily down the hallway, a faintly foreign accent tinging its tone as well. French, again? Felicity wondered to herself with curiosity, though she couldn't be sure.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“It’s raining,” Briel replied tersely. “Where’s your umbrella”

Raining? What the hell was she talking about? It had been sunny for a week.. Felicity could make nothing of it, but Briel's tone might as well have held a threat. It sounded like she expected a fight.

“If you would invite me in, you wouldn’t have to worry about that.” Though the man spoke casually, Felicity noted a latent urgency in his tone, and her curiosity billowed. Something was happening beyond the veneer of the strange conversation.

“I would as soon stand in the snow,” Briel’s equally mystifying response.

That deep, velvet laugh. “The snow can’t hurt you. That’s a false friend.”

Felicity heard what sounded like a punch, followed by another deep laugh. Had he hit Briel? Felicity used all her will power to keep from looking. “You would accuse me of that?” Briel hissed. “Which just proves what I tell everyone about you. You may distract everyone else with the charming act, but you tarnished that for me a long time ago. You’re at my apartment. You don’t want to make me feel threatened. You’ll regret it.” A slap, Felicity realized. But delivered by Briel!

“You really think I’m the one with regret?” replied the man, his voice tense with irritation.

“Considering what you know about me, you can understand why.”

“You have misjudged me, Lilianne.”

Lilianne?

“I doubt it,” came Briel’s terse response.

For several seconds after Briel’s answer, silence reigned, and Felicity itched to assess the other occupants of the hallway. Had they gone inside? Finally, Felicity could no longer stand the suspense; she carefully peered around the edge of the doorway.

The sight that greeted her eyes could not have shocked her more.

Little, petite Briel stood, hands on her hips, defiantly glaring up at a man, almost a foot taller. Though Felicity could not see his face because of the shadow cast by the corridor light, she could discern the very dark, perhaps black, color of his hair, and his tight-fitting t-shirt revealed defined muscles. Why would this man seem nervous around Briel. Not just nervous, but anxious?

“Lili, I want you to know the truth,” he replied, this time his voice hushed, “but you won’t be able to do that without all the information.”

“Not interested. You're appealing to the wrong person.” Without taking her leave, Briel turned immediately to reenter her apartment.

What happened next occurred so quickly that Felicity almost doubted her eyes. The man grabbed Briel's wrist to stop her, and though he did not seem to harbor any overt aggression, Briel spun rapidly upon the man. She adeptly twisted her own arm and her own body in such a way that she, as a result, stood behind the man, her arm free from his grasp. He knelt tensely on one knee, and his arm bent painfully behind his back. He winced in discomfort. No doubt he could have freed himself, but not without unleashing an all-out brawl in the hallway.

“Please, Briel,” the man pleaded. “I am sorry. I was upset – I shouldn’t have insulted you. This is not about business. I wanted to ask you a personal favor.”

Felicity's heart pounded against the inside of her chest.

“Personal?” Briel did not release him, but her tone seemed curious. “You severed any chance of a personal connection years ago. We’re all business now.”

“Just come have coffee with me so I can explain myself to you. I have information for you. It's regarding your target.”

Her target? confusion churned in Felicity's mind.

Briel paused, obviously considering. “Just tell me now,” she demanded.

“It is too much,” he replied, then glanced furtively back and forth along the hallway. “And too sensitive to share in an unsecured hallway.”

Felicity's rapidly beating heart suddenly stopped. Though she felt sure she had ducked out of sight in time, her step had shuffled against the cheap carpet at her feet. Apprehensive, she listened carefully for any indication that one of them had heard her. For a pregnant moment, she heard no sound, and her mind raced with new, more pressing questions than her curiosity about Briel. Most importantly, would she have time to run? And equally as important, could she find her way out through the maze of hallways running full-tilt?

Briel's sudden, whispered reply relieved Felicity's frozen heart and let it beat again. She risked one last peek around the corner.

“Fine,” Briel allowed. “Meet me at La Parisienne tomorrow morning.” She relaxed her grip on his arm as she spoke, and he rose to face her.

“I can't wait,” he replied, a sarcastic twinge replacing his earlier bravado.

The former anxiety returned as the man took his leave of Briel. Again, Felicity froze against the door frame, as motionless as she could possibly stand. Should she make a run for it now? Her indecision decided her, and she did not move until she heard Briel's door shut firmly. She paused a few beats then, fearful lest she encounter the man, Felicity again peered cautiously down the corridor. To her relief, both of its inhabitants had disappeared. After pausing a minute to regain her composure, Felicity glided cautiously through the hallways back to her waiting car.

Her head began to pound. I'm dreaming, she postulated. Things like this don't happen in real life, at least not in mine.

A moment later, though, her mind wandered to the conversation she had overheard. What had any of that meant? Whatever it was, Briel had spoken of something much graver than the facade she wore, that of the naive young college student. Most incriminating, why would she and that man speak of a target? Felicity bit her lip. Could Felicity be the target? No way; her life consisted of routine and boredom. Except for today, she sighed. But had the day's events really added up to so much drama and intrigue? Felicity could not quite believe it. Maybe her kids?

The thought made Felicity shiver. Maybe Brendon. He was a marginally important person. Or maybe Nick. Nick made the most sense, with his computer clearance. Still, Felicity could not imagine anything so far-fetched. More likely someone completely unrelated.

She slipped her shoes on and made her way back to her parking spot, far from the apartment lest someone discover her. Instead of satisfied, Felicity now felt disappointed and a little bit defeated. In following Briel, Felicity had sought either to convince herself of her own folly or find something with which she could go to Brendon and fire Briel.

Now, though, she had succeeded only in making herself more anxious, and she really couldn't tell Brendon anything. In order to tell Brendon what she had seen, Felicity would also have to tell him that she had followed Briel, and beyond his disgust with what he considered her theatrical tendencies, her recklessness would make him angry. No, she could tell Brendon nothing. Especially because the worst she could tell him was that Briel knew a pretty impressive self-defense move.

Fortunately, Felicity had a month before Briel would be anywhere near her children, and surely Felicity could come up with some plausible reason for letting Briel go by then. Whatever came of the strange conversation, Briel would not last another day in Felicity's house.

If she could have found a way, Felicity would have tried to eavesdrop on the conversation at La Parisienne the next morning, but she had no way to predict Brendon’s schedule. Knowing him, he would want to spend all day lounging around the house with her. There was time. A month. Felicity would find a way.