Page 15 of Hot Mic

Sienna shook her head. ‘You can’t just go looking willy-nilly. We need to divide the room into quadrants.’

‘Quadrants. Right,’ Robin drawled, her eyes rolling.

Sienna headed to the first quadrant, pulling Robin with her. Because they were chained wrist-to-wrist, every movement was a pain in the arse. When Robin reached toward a low bookshelf, Sienna was yanked along for the ride. When Sienna went for a look around a mahogany desk, Robin was pulled like pork.

The clinking of the chain was a constant reminder of their forced proximity. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be contractually tied together, Robin had somehow managed to make it literal.

Sienna noticed something on the desk. ‘Look at this,’ she said, pointing toward a stack of ‘leather’-bound books. ‘The titles are in alphabetical order, except for that one.’

Robin squinted. ‘Which?’

Sienna paused, turning to stare at her. ‘Robin. The massive, bright red volume sitting upside down. It’s slap bang in the middle of the row.’

‘Oh,’ Robin blinked. ‘I thought that seemed too obvious,’ she added quickly.

‘Nothing in this room should be considered too obvious,’ Sienna said as kindly as she could, grabbing the book and opening it to a hollow space containing a small brass key. ‘First clue acquired in two minutes, fourteen seconds.’

‘God, you really are intense,’ Robin muttered, grabbing the brass key with her free hand. She turned, tugging Sienna along behind her like a reluctant dog on a lead. ‘I think I know where this goes.’

As Robin knelt down to insert the key into a brass padlock on the desk drawer, Sienna was forced to bend down to avoid a wrist injury, and their shoulders bumped.

‘Sorry,’ Robin muttered.

Sienna shrugged. ‘You’re fine.’

Up close, in the flickering light, Sienna couldn’t help but notice the tiny collection of freckles across the bridge of Robin’s nose.

‘Do I have a zit?’ Robin asked.

Sienna realised she’d been caught staring. ‘What? No. Open the padlock, would you?’

Robin sighed and placed the key in the lock, twisting it. The lock sprang open. Inside the drawer sat a laminated piece of parchment with printed calligraphy.

Born from a strike or a warm ember’s flight,

I’m a quick flash of magic that sets nights alight.

Sienna stared at the card, her brow furrowing. ‘Born from a strike... Umm…’

‘Oh, come on, Sienna, it’s a spark,’ Robin snorted, rolling her eyes.

Sienna turned to Robin, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. ‘A spark? Wait. Did you set this up?’

Robin’s mouth fell open. ‘Set what up? What are you talking about?’

‘You spend half of Meet-Cute banging on about “the spark”,’ Sienna said. ‘You brought me to this building. If this is another one of your little jokes to throw me off—’

‘Sienna, I swear, it’s just a hilarious coincidence,’ Robin laughed, holding up her free hand. ‘I guess the universe has a terrible sense of humour.’

Sienna searched Robin’s face, looking for any sign of a lie. She didn’t find it. ‘Fine.’

‘I’m amazed you even thought I was capable,’ Robin muttered. ‘After all, I’m just some airhead, right?’ she added, in a bitter tone Sienna hadn’t thought she was capable of.

Sienna was horrified. ‘I never said that.’

Robin tried to smile. ‘Everything but.’

‘I never thought you were stupid,’ Sienna said with total honesty. For her flaws, Robin wasn’t an idiot. Far from it. ‘You were the one that got the riddle, for Christ’s sake.’