Elle
A noise wakes me up from a dead sleep.
My eyes crack open, but they quickly flutter halfway shut again until I realise no one’s spooning me. A hard dick isn’t stabbing my entrance, and long arms don’t have me damn near in a headlock so that we can breathe the same recycled air.
I twist my head and find the space behind me empty, and immediately my heart quickens, the sleepiness falling to the wayside. I squint at the clock on the bedside table and have to mentally count the thin, elegant sticks to figure out what time it is. Midnight. When did I fall asleep?
Bang!
“Gant?” I croak after a few beats of silence.
It came from the bathroom. He must’ve got up to pee. But then why is the door shut? I hadn’t smelt his shit but he must’ve shit at some point and yet, even while he was ass out on the toilet, he’d never shut the door. He’d never taken me out of his line of vision, and I know why.
He tells me that I’m scared, but he’s terrified, too. Ever since he caught me in the hospital looking at my IV line, there’s a worry in his eyes that won’t go away. It makes shame coil in my belly until he smiles and kisses me. Until he tells me how good I’m being when I finish my food and drinks, swallow my medication and hop on his back for piggyback rides to reduce the time on my feet.
He watches me like a hawk, and the fact that he isn’t watching me now sends a paranoid chill racing down my spine.
My heart drums faster at the closed door, at the shadow moving beneath it.
“Gant?” I whisper again, this time far softer, as I pull the blankets off my legs. I’m not sure if it’s because I want to get up or because I don’t want any entanglements.
Call it intuition or paranoia, but I’ve never woken up without him beside me. Ever.
I squeeze doll Gant’s block head for strength on my pillow before slipping toward the dark walk-in closet that’s more like a cave and grab one of the cricket bats amongst the lacrosse sticks behind the door. The moment I make contact with the handle, I rip my arm out, lest a sleep demon is waiting to drag me inside.
What am I doing? Despite the question, my feet are carrying me closer to the bathroom door. We’re on the top floor. There are receptionists, patrolling security, and key cards and codes on every door in this building. All you’re going to do is give a pissing Gant a damn heart attack.
Slowly, I turn the handle, push the door open, lift my bat higher and —
Someone screams.
Me.
A woman’s dark brown eyes peer at me through the mirror, entirely unsurprised. She’s older, no younger than fifty-five, with wispy, artificially dyed cherry-brown hair and some wicked winged eyeliner that crinkles at the corners as she takes me in.
And I take in her too, noting her sensible shoes, dark scrubs, and the powder blue gloves on her hands that match her killer eyeshadow.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I try to calm my racing heart by tapping my chest and crumbling against the wall. Before I can even attempt to answer, she turns to me fully, a teeny tiny thong stretched across her gloved thumbs. A used thong from the way it’s rolled.
“Please, Miss , can you put your underwear inside the basket?” She motions at a hamper in the corner.
She knows my name? Gant must’ve told her, lest she find a strange redhead mulling around. But why didn’t he tell me about her?! And why is she creeping around the penthouse cleaning at midnight? But surprisingly, her schedule is the least of my worries.
My thong? My thong?!
I eye the dental floss, and along with the rush of humiliation comes a surge of anger. Gant’s gone. I know he is, and there’s an itty-bitty thong on the bathroom floor. Our bathroom floor.
Had he hooked up with someone while I was asleep in the other room?
A panic I didn’t think possible runs through my veins. A panic I told myself I’d never allow to happen because I don’t care what or who Gant Auclair does because he’s not mine to keep.
The woman looks at me expectantly, her pencil-thin brow lifted.
“I-I’m so sorry, uh, what was your name?”
“Heldina.”
“I’m sorry, Heldina.” I swallow hard as she tosses the used underwear into the hamper and scoops it up under her arm. “I didn’t know you were coming or that you were here. I’ll be more thoughtful next time.”
She sighs. “Ganty likes me to come early and late like a ghost.”
Ganty, not Gant or Mr Gant like how she’d addressed me as Miss. For some reason, I really like that, and a fraction of the tension in my shoulders dissipates. Until I eye the hamper.
“Did you think the bathroom cleaned itself after you and Ganty fell asleep, leaving the floor wet with your leotards and his briefs midway from the bed to the shower?”
My face overheats, but Heldina only turns on her thick, plastic sole into the bedroom.
“Since you’re already awake. Follow me.”
“Yes, ma'am.” I follow her silently into the living room and then the kitchen.
I watch as she sets the hamper behind the second island, the one with the massive sink. With her knee, she presses on a cabinet door that opens soundlessly to reveal a dustbin lined with a clean bag. She opens the hamper and pulls out the last thing I’d expect. A used cup with pink residue, a bowl, and a fork.
“When you are done dining in the tub, I would appreciate it if you could scrape out your dishes and put them in the sink.”
The tub?!
She picks the thong out of the bowl and shakes it off over the garbage before tossing it back into the hamper. Then, she puts the dishes into the sink as if demonstrating to me how it’s done.
“Thongs hamper. Dishes sink.” I nod my head at her expectant expression. “I got it.”
My thong?! My brain’s still reeling. I still can’t believe she thinks I’m that thin.
I try to smile despite the vomit bubbling in my throat. Because now, instead of anger, I feel fear?
There’s another girl here.
“Um,” I ask, glancing around. “Do you know where Gant is?’
Heldina arches her brows again. “Don’t you?”
I bite my lip as she heads for the laundry room before storming down the hallway, ready to kick every bedroom door open.
Is she here? Or did Gant take her home?
That didn’t make any sense. He can’t drive. He can’t even let someone else drive him. So where could he be at midnight?
Without me?
Hair flying over my shoulders, I march into the first guest room, the one next door to our bedroom. I must look mad, I feel mad as I drop to my knees to glance under the bed before kicking the bathroom door open and flickering on the light.
Why the fuck would that thong be in our bathroom if he has five others? Because she, whoever she is, wanted me to find it during my midnight piss break.
No one’s here. I’m about to storm back into the hallway when a squeak of wood and a rustle of clothes from the walk-in closet get my attention. Instead of fear, like when I’d grabbed the cricket bat, I feel all the boldness of a complete fool as I cut on the lights, stomp to the hanging coats and —
“ What the fuck! ” I scream as two grey eyes emerge from the darkness, and Rin steps out, crushing my pinky toe.