Miracle On 5th Avenue. Sarah Morgan
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to be around people. She was the same. It wasn’t that she couldn’t be on her own. She could. But given the choice she would always rather be with other people.
On impulse, she dug her hand into her pocket and gave him a card. “Take this—”
“Romano’s Sicilian Restaurant, Brooklyn?”
“Best pizza anywhere in New York City. It’s owned by my friend’s mother and on Christmas Day Maria cooks for everyone who shows up. I help her in the kitchen. I’m a cook, although most of the time now we’re running big events and I’m outsourcing to external companies and vendors.” Too much information, she thought, and gestured toward the card. “If you’re free on Christmas Day, you should join us, Albert.”
He stared at the card in his hand. “You just met me five minutes ago. Why would you invite me?”
“Because you saved me from landing on my butt, and because it’s Christmas. No one should be alone at Christmas.” Alone. There it was again. That word. It seemed to creep in everywhere. “I’m not going to hole myself away totally either. As soon as the snow eases enough for me to see my hand in front of my face, I’m going to pop across to Central Park and build a snowman the size of the Empire State Building. The Empire State Snowman. And speaking of giant structures, I have a tree being delivered later. Hopefully it will arrive before the blizzard stops everything. You’re going to think I stole the one from outside Rockefeller Center, but I assure you I didn’t.”
“It’s big?”
“The guy lives in the penthouse. The penthouse needs a big tree. I just hope we’ll be able to get it up there.”
“Leave it to me.” He frowned. “You’re sure you shouldn’t be getting home to your family while you can?”
His words poked at the bruise she’d been trying to ignore.
“I’ll be fine right here, safe and warm. Thanks, Albert. You’re my hero.”
She walked toward the elevator, trying not to think about everyone in New York going home to their families. Home to warmth, laughter, conversation, hugs…
Everyone except her.
She had no one.
Not a single living relative. She had friends, of course, great friends, but for some reason that didn’t ease the ache.
Alone.
Why was the feeling always magnified at Christmas?
The elevator rose through the building in smooth silence and the doors slid open.
Lucas Blade’s apartment was straight ahead and she let herself in, thanked the two men who’d delivered all her bags and packages and carefully locked the door behind her.
She turned, and was instantly mesmerized by the spectacular view visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass that made up one entire wall of the apartment.
She didn’t bother putting on lights. Instead, she toed off her boots to avoid trailing snow through the apartment and walked in her socks to the window.
Whatever else he had, Lucas Blade had taste and style.
He also had underfloor heating, and she felt the luxurious warmth steal through the thick wool of her socks and slowly thaw her numbed feet.
She stared at the soaring skyline, letting the cold and the last of the snowflakes melt away.
Far beneath her she could see the trail of lights on Fifth Avenue as a few bold cabs made what was probably their final journey through Manhattan. Soon the roads would be closed. Travel would be impossible, or at least unwise. New York, the city that never slept, would finally be forced to take a rest.
The snow fell past the window, big fat flakes that drifted and swirled, before settling lazily on the already deep layer that blanketed the city.
Eva hugged herself, staring out across the silvery-white expanse of Central Park.
It was New York at its dreamy, wintry best. Why Lucas Blade felt the need to go on retreat to write, she had no idea. If she owned this place she’d never leave it.
But maybe he needed to leave it.
He was grieving, wasn’t he? He’d lost his beloved wife three years ago at Christmas. His grandmother had told her how much it had changed him. And why wouldn’t it? He’d lost the love of his life. His soul mate.
Eva leaned her head against the glass. Her chest ached for him.
Her friends told her she was too sensitive, but she’d come to accept that it was just the way she was. Other people watched the news and managed to stay detached. Eva felt everything deeply, and she felt Lucas’s pain even though she’d never even met him.
How cruel was it to meet the love of your life and then lose her?
How did you pick up the pieces and move on?
She had no idea how long she stood there or when, exactly, she sensed she wasn’t alone. It started with a faint warning prickle at the back of her neck, which rapidly turned to the cold chill of fear when she heard a nearby clunk.
She was imagining things, surely? Of course she was alone. This apartment block had some of the best security in the city and she’d been careful to lock the door behind her.
No one could have followed her in so there couldn’t be anyone else in there, unless—
She swallowed as a different explanation occurred to her.
—unless someone had already been in the apartment.
She turned her head slowly, wishing now that she’d taken the time to find the lights and switch them on. The storm had darkened the sky and the apartment was full of cavernous shadows and mysterious corners. Her imagination burst to life and she tried to reason with herself. The sound could have been anything. Maybe it had come from outside the building.
She held her breath, and then heard another noise, this one definitely inside the apartment. It sounded like a footstep. A stealthy footstep, as if the owner didn’t want to reveal himself.
She glanced up and saw something move in the shadows up above her.
Fear was sharp and paralyzing.
She’d interrupted a break-in. The hows and whys didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out of here.
The door seemed a long way in the distance.
Could she make it?
Her heart was racing and her palms turned sweaty.
She wished now that she hadn’t removed her shoes.
She made for the door and at the same time grabbed her phone from her pocket. Her hand was shaking so much she almost dropped it.
She hit the emergency button, heard a woman say “911 Emergency—” and tried to whisper into the phone.
“Help. There’s someone in the apartment.”
“You’ll have to speak up, ma’am.”
The door was there. Right there.
“There’s someone in the apartment.” She needed to get downstairs to Albert. He’d—
A hand clamped over her mouth and before Eva could utter a squeak she’d landed on her back on the floor, crushed by the hard weight of a powerful male body.
The man pinned her. One of his hands was across her mouth and the other gripped her wrists with brutal strength.
Holy crap.
If she could have screamed, she would have, but she couldn’t open her mouth.
She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe, although bizarrely her senses were still sufficiently alert for her to realize her attacker smelled really good.