When we walked in, the lights came on automatically. A tripped switch turned on three silent cameras that took digital pictures every eight seconds. The cameras were installed on a rare site-call by Tiny “Bug” Bateman himself, and so they were foolproof. I would look at the pictures of Aura later, after she’d finished threatening me and went back to her own office.

I leaned against the receptionist’s desk while Aura shone her stern visage down on me.

“I got a job I’m just finishing up right now,” I said. “I can pay you by tomorrow night.”

She appraised my words with her stormy, sky-colored eyes and smirked. Then she shook her head.

“My number-one job is to get you out of here.”

“Isn’t there anything I can do?” I asked, standing up straight.

Aura was three inches taller than I but it seemed like a foot. She pulled her head back and sneered, shaking her head ever so slightly.

“Come on,” I said. “Just one day. You know that you can’t evict me if I pay by tomorrow anyway. It’ll just be a lot of paperwork.”

“The owners would like to see it.”

“One day.”

“One day,” she said, “for one kiss.”

It was astonishing to me that something so sweet could hurt so bad. Holding that woman in my arms, I ached for a whole other life, a life that I would never have. When she pressed her shoulder against mine I moaned as much from the pleasure as from the ache.

I pulled away, trying to remember how to breathe.

Her gaze was triumphant.

“I could tell you liked that, Leonid Trotter McGill.”

I hadn’t caught my breath yetv hmy brea.

“You don’t love her,” Aura said.