ANNABETH SAINT
"Have we met before?" I asked. The way he'd called me Cinderella reminded me of the dream (memory?). The man hidden in the shadows of the balcony had called me Cinderella, too.
"Have we?" He boomeranged the question back at me, so I figured he didn't want to answer.
Gibson leaned into the shadows, presumably to whisper information into the pointed ear of the devil.
"Excuse me for a moment, Miss Saint." He unfolded from the chair and retreated deeper into the shadows. I heard a door open and close. Even Gibson left.
Heart burdened with worry and shame, I felt hot tears gather in my eyes. Getting the assistance of Devon Thorne had been a long shot.
I straightened my shoulders, lifted my head, and strode out of the room. My wet shoes slapped against the marble flooring as I exited the king of hell's domain.
I managed to get to the end of the hallway before I collapsed against the wall.
No money, no home, no family.
