Someone Is Watching by Joy Fielding

place my forehead against the cool wood, my eye peeking through the peephole into the corridor. The phone rings again, and I jump. “Do you want me to get that?” I hear Gene ask from somewhere behind me.
    “No,” I tell him, but he is already answering it.
    “Hello?” I hear him say. Then: “Fine. Thank you. Send her up.”
    The elevator doors open, and Sean Holden steps into the long, beige-and-green-carpeted hall. I open my door even before he reaches it. His large arms surround me. I feel safe for the first time since his last visit, which I think was several days ago, although I’m not certain. It feels like forever. “How are you?” he whispers, his lips brushing against my perpetually damp hair. He leads me back inside my apartment, closes the door behind him.
    “Okay,” I tell him. “My brother’s here.”
    Gene joins us in the foyer, extending his hand in welcome. “Well, hello there, Sean. Nice to see you again, in spite of the difficult circumstances.”
    I almost smile. I have become a “difficult circumstance.”
    “Gene,” Sean acknowledges, right eyebrow arching. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”
    “And why is that?” Gene’s tone is challenging, almost belligerent, although there is no change in his expression. “Despite everything, Bailey is still family. Naturally I’m very upset about what’s happened.”
    “Naturally,” Sean agrees. “We all are.”
    “I would certainly think so, since it happened while she was on the job. Your firm could be held liable.”
    “What happened was hardly Sean’s fault,” I say.
    “Still. That could be one hell of a lawsuit.”
    “You going to sue him, too?” I ask.
    “Just looking out for your interests, Bailey,” my brother says without a trace of irony.
    “I think I may have come at a bad time,” Sean says.
    “No. Please, don’t go,” I urge.
    “Yes, by all means, stick around,” Gene concurs, looking toward the door. “That was Finn, from the concierge desk, on the phone just now. He said Claire walked in just after Sean did. I told him to send her up.”
    “Busy place,” Sean remarks, and even though we are no longer touching, I can feel his body tense.
    I close my eyes, feel my legs go weak. When did my right to choose who visits me and who doesn’t disappear? Did the man in the bushes take that from me, too?
    “Bailey,” Sean says. “Are you all right?”
    “I think I should sit down.” But even as the words are leaving my mouth, I’m distracted by the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock. I watch in horror as the lock twists rapidly.
    Seconds later, the door to my condo falls open. A young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair framing a pretty, oval face, and a woman with almost the same face, albeit slightly fuller and several decades older, stand on the other side of the threshold. “See?” the girl exclaims, triumphantly. “I told you I could do it. These locks aren’t worth shit.” She returns her nail file to the oversized brown leather bag hanging from her shoulder. “Hi, everyone,” she says before stepping into the foyer and dropping her bag to the beige marble floor, then brushing past me into the living room, all in one fluid motion. “Wow. Nice place.”
    “Jade, for God’s sake,” her mother says, offering an embarrassed nod in my direction. “I’m so sorry,” she begins, shutting the door behind her and glancing at the two men standing beside me.Her gaze lingers an extra second on Sean. “I’m sorry. Have we come at a bad time?”
    “Claire, this is Sean Holden,” Gene says, ignoring the question. “Bailey’s boss.”
    “Oh. Very nice to meet you, Mr. Holden.”
    “And you.” Sean smiles graciously, although I can see his eyes already plotting his escape.
    “Claire is Bailey’s half-sister,” Gene continues unnecessarily.
    “Who’s suing me,” I add, not quite under my breath.
    “We don’t have to get into all that