CHAPTER SIX

ORLA

A knock interrupted my delicate sleep. A small, timid voice called out to me from the other side.

I got out of bed as though on autopilot, and opened the door.

Cecily, the cleaner, froze her hand in midair, a few centimeters away from knocking. She cleared her throat and took a step backward. “Good morning, Miss.”

I nodded at her, rubbing my eyes. “Good morning. What is it?”

“Someone’s here to see you.”

“Tell them to come back later, I’m not ready to see any visitors. Besides,” I looked over at the clock hanging over my bed, “it’s not even up to nine yet.”

Cecily’s eyebrows moved closer together, forming a crease in between them. “I told him that you’d still be in bed, but he insisted that he must see you Or else he'd have no choice but to come inside by himself.”

Ridiculous. “And who exactly is this man?”

“It’s Mr. Adams.”

“Ryker?” I rubbed my hand over my face and hissed. “What does he want in this ungodly hour?”

Cecily looked like she was about to try and answer that question,