After her father's tragic passing, Nora Davis is forced behind the scenes, nothing more than a stepping stone for others in their journey to stardom. When an opportunity presents itself, Nora, trapped under her stepmother's heel, takes it as her cha...
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Despite the heavy anger seeping through Nora's bloodstream at Felicity's newest edition of manipulation, the moment her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.
Morning arrived slowly. Nora curled further into a ball under her covers, blissfully warm in the cocoon of blankets she'd created. The air in the room was cold, the tip of her nose freezing. Even with the sunlight peeking through the curtains and tracing a line across the deep green duvet, it didn't do enough to heat up the room.
Nora sat up and stretched her arms above her head with a yawn. She glanced at the opulent room around her. Creator, it was just as fancy, if not more so, in the sunlight.
She took a breath, then, tentatively, sent a line of thought into the universe. Eli?
You're awake, his voice sounded in her mind. Have you slept enough?
She snorted. I suppose so.
Good. Are you hungry?
She wasn't. Not yet. She'd had a bowl of chicken broth and a few crackers last night. Her stomach may need some time to get used to a lot of food again. No. What time is it?
Eleven.
Not too late then.
Jackson wants to talk to you when you're ready, Eli said. And then we have a meeting this afternoon.
A meeting?
Nora wasn't sure how Eli was able to send a chuckle down their telepathic line, but when it arrived, it sent goosebumps over her skin. She would never tire of that sound. Trust me, love, he said.
Love. He'd called her that last night too. She found she would absolutely not complain. The syllables rolled beautifully off his lips...er, mind.
Give me fifteen minutes. Nora told him.
Sure. I'll meet you outside your door when you're ready.
Nora grabbed her glasses off the dark nightstand and slowly got up. The marble floor was ice against her bare feet as she made her way to the bathroom. Right outside the door, a set of clothes rested on a long, skinny table. Nora grabbed the black jeans and heavy emerald green sweater. A small note rested next to them:
Green is a great color for that hair of yours. Hope these are okay.
-Lizzie
Had Lizzie snuck in this morning to drop these off? A smile crept onto her face.
