Most Museum Tower residents were out of the building at this time of day, but she knew that the owner of the penthouse was waiting for her. When she reached his door, it was as he’d promised, open. Eerie quiet made her shiver. Whenever Harry was home, there was music, something deeply soulful. She raised her hand to knock before entering, then dropped it to her side, hesitating. What am I supposed to say to him? What if he lies to me? Will I recognize it? What if my clothes just fall off? She brought her fingers to the edge of the door and pressed it open. Stepping through, Bianca tried to ignore the anxious knot tightening in her stomach as she wandered deeper into Harry’s home. Passing the kitchen, it occurred to her that the penthouse reeked of money. Considering Harry’s minimalist approach to décor, she could see the money he’d spent. Walls had been moved to extend and open rooms that didn’t exist on lower floors, and lighting had been moved to discreet wall and ceiling panels.
