James followed Taliana back into the foyer. She moved quickly, almost jogging, the click of her heels echoing through the space. She seemed to hold her hands slightly above her, working her fingers like she was working out knots, but there was nothing there.
He’d heard of these old mansions harboring ghosts. Maybe a few of those tales were true.
Taliana slowed as she approached a red door, but James kept his distance, not wanting her to know he’d followed her. He’d already embarrassed himself when he laughed at Rose instead of kissing her hand. He didn’t need Taliana to think he was stalking her.
She worked the invisible threads all the way to the closed door. “Green, green,” she…
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