The brown-haired girl hurls me into a small custodial closet down the hall, then closes the door behind her. A string hangs from the ceiling, which she tugs to turn on a lightbulb, illuminating the small room. A broom and dustpan, mop, bucket, and feather duster, among other cleaning things crowd the tiny closet and force us closer together.

She isn't remotely attractive, yet my heart is pounding in my chest at how close we're standing together.

Seconds pass by, and the air quickly becomes stuffy. Never have I ever been shoved into a closet with a girl before, cute or non.

In a quick movement, she whips her head up, her nose uppercutting my chin and sending me back into the wall. At her glare, I gulp. She doesn't seem to want to take advantage of whatever situation she put us in, so what could she want from me?

She... she knows my name. Did she embroider that serial killer handkerchief? I squint at her in the dim light.

"You really don't play the duke well, David. I overestimated you. You've disappointed me."

I don't know how to react to her strangely cold accusation. I've... disappointed her? Who is she? And why is she—

With lightning speed, she seems to suck the air from the space between us, almost making us touch. A broom handle slides between my legs as I melt into the wall in retreat.

Jade gems watch me in the yellow light.

"Who... are you?" I stammer out, all-too-coward-like. Damn my introverted, shy genes. This situation is like none I've ever dealt with, not even with my short-lived relationships in high school. My body, limbs, and mind are malfunctioning. How does man engage in conversation when woman is so close?

"Who else would know your name, know the role you've been selected to play? Who else would break the fourth wall like this?" As she speaks, she lifts a finger under my jaw, turning my head from side to side. A smirk curves into her cheeks, her expression under the light making her quite fox-like. "You look divine, I must say. An improvement from your... sad image from before."

Normally, such an insult would result in a shrug and I'd probably cry in my room later, when I'm alone. But Duke Theo isn't about to let it slide, and I am instantly trumped by the influence he has over my arms as I grab hold of her hand, twist it around, and pin her to the wall like a police officer arresting a criminal. Of course the cold duke won't allow such treasonous language to be directed at him, to his face, no less.

The actions are his, but the words that come out are my own.

"I was rather... happy with who I was before, thank you very much. Now tell me who the hell you are or I'll let Duke Theodore take out his wrath on you for trapping him in a damned broom closet to threaten him at his own party."

"Okay," she says, without any strain. Her pulse, which thumps under the wrist I'm pressing to her back, remains normal. I haven't caught her off-guard. She's perfectly fine.

Deduction: she is not from this novel world. Well, I guess that much is obvious if she knows my name is David, and she knows what I look... er, looked like.

She easily turns around when I loosen my grip. And we are once again standing very close.

"Some things cannot be explained, including how we got here. However, I can tell you for certain that we are both here because we wanted to be."

"Nope, definitely bullshit. I'm not even into reading, let alone romance and all that crap. Do you even know what I've been put through this past week? Shit, has it only been a week?"

The woman grins. "My name in this novel is Aurora, and my role is an average court lady. I've no interest in you or your affairs. I'm just... an extra, if you will. And so far, it's just us. I don't know how or why you were dropped into Theo's spot... especially because your true self bears no resemblance physically or emotionally, but hey, you're here and there's nothing we can do about it."

Her warning from before comes crashing down on me. He'll take complete control and then everything I've done will be all for nothing. I've already come this far, and I won't let you die. Not again.

She'd told me to resist the Duke's influence, even though he always knows how to stay in character. Saved my ass a few times because of it. That isn't the part I should worry about, though...

"You said... you won't let me die... again. What the hell is that about?"

Her grin spread wider, like a serial killer's. A shiver prickles my skin. Just who was this lady, before she... came into this novel with me?

"Patience, young padawan. Did you think I'd give you all the answers all at once? Or to better rephrase—did you really think I'd make that mistake again? I won't explain right now, but soon. You just need to trust me."

I stare at her baby blue satin gown with ribbons at the waist—a rather modest gown for a ball—and her messy but perhaps just styled and frizzy hair pinned in peculiarly planned places. She's unassuming, especially with her strangely green eyes and dimpled cheeks. She doesn't have the same effect on me as Rachael, but that's because she isn't anyone the Duke cares about.

Can I trust her?

"Just tell me you weren't a murderous bastard in your real life, and we'll be chill," I say with as lighthearted a tone I can muster.

She briefly glances at the broom between my legs, then looks me dead in the eyes, his lips forming a flat line. She's somehow more terrifying when she's not smiling at me with her sparkling green eyes.

She has me so entranced that I don't realize when she maneuvers the broom and nails me right in the crotch.

Pain sizzles up to my stomach and the world goes blurry for a second as I gasp for air and collapse to one knee.

This damn duke has never pooped, nor has he ever been kicked in the jewels. Just what kind of a barrier has he lived within to have never experienced these normal throes of manhood?!

Once I've caught my breath, I shoot a glare up at her, but I can only see slivers of her wicked grin through the curtain of blond obscuring my vision.

"You know," I say bitterly, "if you want someone to trust you, you don't kick his balls."

She laughs—it's such a horrifying sound, I might just cry. What hell have I stepped into? I'd rather eat more salad or be tortured by Annalise than agree to side with this maniac!

"Too bad, that was my best bargaining chip," she says with an exaggerated huff. Then, in one fluid movement, she's squatting in front of me. Her hand pushes the blond behind my ear and the traces of her fingers leave streaks of heat behind, like she's made of burning metal. She looks into my eyes once more, something dazzling in those emerald orbs, and she sighs. "You've probably realized by now that the character you're playing hasn't experienced many real-life problems. And that's an issue for a lot of people who read this novel. My theory is that we've been called here to make the story more realistic. That, and..." She looks away, quirking her lip to the side.

I shake my head. "So you incapacitated me to prove a point?"

She laughs, then shrugs. "I did what I had to do. I told you—this isn't my first rodeo. I'm on some sort of... time loop. And I think I know how to fix it. I can't just crash your ball. I need to do something far more drastic to change the events that happen in this version of the story."

A frustrated sigh puffs from the side of my mouth and she raises an eyebrow at me. "If we are both 'guests' in this novel, why can't I remember this 'time loop' you're blabbering about?" I use finger quotes to emphasize the ridiculousness of her statement. But then again, isn't this whole situation ridiculous as is?

"Look, believe me or not, but I need you to trust me. If not for moral reasons, for your own selfish ones. Don't you want to get out of this place, return to your normal life? Back to Olivia? Back to Sheldon and Michael and Gary? Back to... Grace?"

My heart leaps to my throat and dries there, itchy and bulging like a sudden incurable virus. How the hell does she know about my sister, my friends, my silly crush?!

I gape at her, unable to find the words.

She sighs, then smiles, but this time it's one of understanding. Her hand cups my face gently and she brushes her thumb over my cheek. The feeling is very motherly, and quite opposite from her earlier personality.

Liv had mood swings, but they were never this severe, and only occurred once a month, usually.

I gulp back my nervousness and shake my head. "Can't you tell me who you are? Why do you know people from my life? Are you the one who sent me that freaky handkerchief? I'm just... so confused."

"Shh, I know. It's a lot to take in. And in time I hope that I'll be able to tell you everything. But now is not the time. Just trust that I will tell you. We just have to get past... tonight." She bites her lip and drops her hand, then looks back at the door. Without looking at me, she continues talking, but this time, her tone is lower and faster, urgent. "Remember, my name is Aurora here. I'm a member of Annalise's court. I assume you know who she is...?"

I wince at the reminder—I know too well who she is.

"Aurora" continues, "Great. You need to make a case for me to come stay at your mansion as an informant, maid, servant, whatever you want to call it. But I need to move over here. I think that's the only way. You must make the announcement tonight."

Tonight? But I've not made an announcement before, and if Theo takes over, will he know what to say? Won't he have her executed for bringing pain to his genitals? For all of this strange behavior?

Do I truly believe in her? My brain hurts, like a tug-of-war is going on and neither side is showing signs of winning. According to her, if I don't follow this plan, something terrible might happen and I won't even remember this night. It'll be as if I'm reliving it for the first time each time. I'll be an unsuspecting victim of a Groundhog's Day type of scenario. I don't want that.

No, you don't. So listen to the girl, a voice chastises in my head.

Oh, hi Theo. No response. Yeah, so tell me what to do and take over whenever you please, but don't actually stick around to explain anything. His consciousness is clearly still here. Does he choose when to intervene? How frustrating.

Aurora just blinks at me. Have I taken too long to respond?

I sigh, trying to brush off my silence as deliberation. "Very well. I'll make the announcement."

She then takes my hands in hers and kisses them with fervor. The heat spreads to my forearms and I flinch away.

"I beseech you, Duke Theodore. Please forgive my rudeness and allow me to excuse myself first."

Now I'm the one to blink blankly at her. Her flip-flops between serious and chiding and maniacal are disorienting at best. Before I can say a word, she opens the door and gathers her skirts, then leaves without looking back at me.

Several nobles are passing by, and because Aurora didn't close the door behind her...

I flip the sopping end of a mop over my head and hold my breath to save myself from the stench of stagnant water. The wetness drips over my suit, but thankfully the droplets aren't so frequent that they saturate any areas.

The nobles pause for a moment—I hear their steps halt. Then one voice rises above the rest.

"Is that... no way, right?"

"Surely not," another confirms.

Then they continue walking.

I remove the mop from my head and scurry from the closet.

Rounding a corner lined with familiar strange paintings, I beeline for the bathroom. There's no way I can go back to the ballroom looking like a slob.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I close the door and lock it, then turn and close my eyes, sliding down the door to rest against it. As I steady my breath and collect myself, something electric fills the air, stifling the room.

I open my eyes lazily, then my whole body goes stiff.

Shit.

I'm not alone in this bathroom.

And my guest is the last person I want to see right now.