"They found his body in an alley," Her nonchalance only confirms my theory about her marriage, but it's worse apparently. "thrown like trash. He was quite pitiable but I had more problems then. Marylene kept getting sick and I was running low on money." One look at my watch indicates that I have been here for thirty minute already, I must go home. Mrs. Rodernam, though chatty, doesn't have any answers for me. This journey was futile.

I make a move to go to the door. Her dog lying on the doormat gives a strong bark, I hear scrambling outside the door. Someone was eavesdropping! I want to run after them but also fear assuages me. This is not a safe place already, caution keeps me grounded on the spot.

"It's nothing. It must be the kids from across the street." she says not getting up. I calm down. I have to step over the dog to get to the door. My foot slides because of the liquid. The dog seems to smile haughtily. Damn, it was dog pee. I want to kick that despicable monster, but I refrain. I descend the stairs and cross the road again. To my surprise, the cab I came in is still there. The driver opens the window when I stop at the passenger door. "Get in." He says. I don't need to be told twice.

He drops me off at the Laureate. I give him a handsome tip for waiting for me. He gives me a large grin and drives away. My trip to Greenwich village was a sham. De Laure should have known Pete is dead. He hasn't given me false intel before. Is he in on something behind my back? Suspicion grips me. And also who was following me, again? How did they know where I was? I recall the other day after work. I dismissed it but maybe it's all connected.

I shake my head. It's possible for De Laure to be wrong once in a while. Maybe it was all a coincidence. I take the elevator to the house. I am astounded to see wet marks on the carpet leading to the door. Only one foot left them. I proceed cautiously. I open the door and it gives. Blood runs cold in my veins.

I push the door slowly, inside it is dark except for the kitchen. I walk cautiously to the lit room. Sticking my head in the opening, I see no one. I cautiously step into the doorway. Sprawled on the floor, I see Carter doing push ups, shirtless. Loud groans emanate from him. I am taken aback.

He sits up after doing ten more. He is surprised to see me looking at him. He gets up and grabs a towel from the floor. He wipes sweat from his forehead and his chest. "Hey." He says.

I snap out of a reverie, "Oh, hi." I stand awkwardly in the doorway. I remember the marks, "what are those stains in the hallway?" I ask.

He takes a gulp of water before answering. He takes a while to swallow it. "I went shopping and stepped in a puddle." He says with a frown on his face.

I laugh at the coincidence, "Me too." I say without thinking. He looks at me with squinted eyes.

"Really?" He sounds incredulous.

I raise my foot to show him. Water trickles out, I mean pee. "It's dog pee." I rectify. I bend and remove the shoe. It falls to the floor with a disgusting squelch.

"Where did you go?" He asks with a grin on his face. The grin doesn't reach his eyes, which are cool, almost glaring.

I realize I have said too much and I can't just get out of this one simply by leaving the room, "I went for a walk." I pick the shoe up, "I should get cleaned up." I say and hurry out of the room. After a long relaxing bath, I slip into a short pink, silk, nightdress and wrap a translucent robe over it.

I return to the living room. A faint tune catches my ear. I walk towards the balcony where it is coming from. Carter doesn't turn when I walk onto the balcony and sit beside him. I pour myself a glass of Moet and sip it sparingly wondering what on earth Carter is thinking about this late at night.

"I heard about your mother."

"What?" I stutter as my head whips to the side. My narrowed gaze pierces the side of his face. He continues to stare into space without acknowledging how grave a topic he has brought up.

"I am sorry for your loss." My brows pull together into a scowl.

Impatiently, I pull his face towards me. The intensity of his gaze almost makes my head spin. Green eyes creased on the side with worry stare back at me.

"Thank you." And I truly mean it. A tear trickles down the side of my cheek, I wipe it away, but I can't wipe the smile that comes with this moment.

"Did anyone bother you at work?" He asks; little knowing how soul baring that soul would be if I answered truthfully.

"No. I am not as popular as you are." I answer with a twinge of humor. I smile to myself, it was always our inside joke how he is a few steps away from being followed around by stalkers.

"I know. And I hate it." he says his gaze no longer on me but on some stellar object far above. His voice has a sombre note to it. It draws my attention to him.

"Me not being popular?" I ask just to be sure.

"No. Me being known." He doesn't elaborate in any way.

"How so?" I insist.

"I'd like to have something real for once." He answers. What does he mean? He looks at me sideways and bursts into laughter.

I must look so confused because instead of enlightening me, his statement does the opposite. "Didn't mean to sound so shrink-like." He apologizes; I can see walls forming around him, like he has said something he shouldn't have.

"No, I want to know." I reply trying to reach a hand to the last exposed fragments of the unarmoured parts of him.

"It doesn't matter." he answers, his tone changing. He gets up and walks to the sliding door. "Do you want wine?" He asks. I shake my head. Hair falls into my face.

Carter leans forward and tucks loose strands of hair behind my ear. With so little distance between us, I am tempted to lean in and barrow into his chest.

Belatedly, I catch myself only a few inches away. I can literally taste his cologne on my tongue, I am too close to disguise it as a happy accident. The air around us suddenly crackles with sparks of electricity. We can both sense a fire being stoked, neither of us willing to extinguish it.

I lean back but that does little to lighten the situation. Carter's gaze alone is enough to make me forget my vow to never fall into his trap again. I pick up my glass and take another sip of Moet. Bad idea!

My head swims even worse. I have to leave before this spark turns into a furnace which I can't afford to turn out. I clear my throat.

"Umm, I am going to bed." I say awkwardly, avoiding his eye. I get up too swiftly, and end up swaying for a second too long. I wobble towards the door and finally enter the house. I am roughly shoved onto the sliding door, my back touching the cold glass surface. I catch a whiff of wine on Carter's breath and I know I smell the same. He doesn't touch me even though he has me caged with his muscular body.

"Why are you fighting it?" He asks, his voice raspy. I hate being this close, I hate when he forces my hand. But some remote part of me is excited by this, and I hate that too.

"I can't." I say while looking away. "Let's just go to bed." I want him to drop it.

He gets even closer still, "Does this bother you?" a ghost of a smirk graces his lips. My discomfort seems to stoke his humor.

I squirm, "y-yes." Why am I stuttering around him?

His hand, that had been resting at his side, inches towards my waist. Flashes of Donald harassing me at work cross my mind. My body trembles where I am standing, my eyelids squeeze shut with dread. I can let it go. Let it go. Don't mind it too much. You're helpless against him. My head echoes the thoughts that always cross my mind when Donald touches me inappropriately.

"Tara. Tara." I hear Carter's voice from somewhere far away. I tentatively, open my eyes, to find Carter standing paces away from me; jaw clenched, his hand rigorously raking channels into his hair and his forehead puckered. When he sees me watching, his eyes widen with surprise. "Are you okay?" He says making a show of lightheartedness. "I thought I lost you there." He uproots from his spot and picks up a duvet I hadn't noticed before. He wraps it around me and steps back like he's been burned.

Crap, now he's scared of me. I step away from the glass and walk past him. If not for my utter embarrassment, I would have stayed and teased him for worrying about me. I flop on my bed face first. I want to scream. Why did I think the worst of Carter? He hasn't done anything bad to me. Not every man is like Donald, that's for sure. But they barely show their true colors early on either. I don't know who to trust.