Chapter 2
S ix hours later and I’m aimlessly wandering around the penthouse, bored out of my mind. I already unpacked the few items I brought with me, took Princess for her four o’clock walk, and fed her at five. After lounging around on my new bed (A.K.A. the most comfortable bed known to mankind) and watching two reruns of Law something I learned after she threatened to dump ice-cold water on me if I didn’t get up for work on time (spoiler alert: she did and it sucked).
“ Fine , I surrender. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Sure,” I say as noncommittally as possible. “Hanging up for real now!”
She huffs but doesn’t press me on it, likely because she knows that’s the most she’ll be able to get out of me. “‘Kay, sleep tight babe. Don’t let the thousand-thread-count sheets bite.”
***
It’s just past two in the morning when I kick off the fluffy comforter that’s draped over me and huff, sprawling myself on the bed in frustration. I’ve been trying to fall asleep for hours to no avail, and it’s really starting to stress me out. Mondays are the only day a week I actually go into the office, so I can’t risk being sleep-deprived tomorrow.
Princess stirs at my movement from her curled-up position next to me for a moment, only to promptly return to her snoring .
At least one of us is getting some sleep.
I’ve always had a hard time falling asleep in a new place, ever since I was a little girl. Every time we’d move across the country for my dad’s job and set up our beds in the new house, I would always lie awake the whole first night in misery. It didn’t matter if it was still technically the same mattress I was used to or if we put up all my old decor in the new room so it felt like home. Knowing I was in a new house made me feel uneasy, and gave me temporary insomnia until I got used to the place.
I crawl out of bed and into the bathroom, hoping a nice, calming bath will do the trick. If nothing else, at least I’ll get my Vivian Ward bath-moment from Pretty Woman . I start filling up the ginormous claw foot tub while I throw in some fancy Epsom salts and lavender elixir that I found in the cabinet, before tying my hair up in a bun, stripping down, and sliding in.
I let myself sink into the water until it’s up to my neck, feeling the heat loosening up every single muscle in my body. My eyes flutter closed as I breathe in the floral-scented steam, feeling so relaxed that I could almost fall asleep.
Almost.
I hear a noise off in the distance and crack one eye open to check my surroundings. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary so I brush it off and settle my neck back into its comfy position, only to be rudely awoken again by another bang. This time I’m sure I’m not imagining things, so I reluctantly get out of the bath and wrap myself in the towel that’s hanging on a hook by the door.
I step out into my room to find Princess still sound asleep, just as another clang echoes from downstairs .
“Not much of a guard dog, are you?” I whisper at her as I pick up a decorative vase on the dresser. It’s not much of a weapon, but given the absence of baseball bats and frying pans in my room, it’s all I have to work with.
I crack open my door and peer around the corner at the dark hallway, stepping out and tip-toeing along the wall. I feel like a spy in a rip-off James Bond movie, and if it weren’t for the very real fear that there’s a burglar in the house, this would almost be kind of fun. More muffled thumps ensue from below as I inch my way closer to the staircase, holding my breath.
Okay, there’s definitely someone down there. Remain calm, Gem.
“Robert?” I whisper in a last-ditch prayer that he just forgot something in the penthouse when he brought me up earlier. No response; it’s obviously not him. I am now officially freaking out.
I’m creeping down the staircase with my heart beating in my ears when I notice a huge figure—or is that two regular-sized figures?—in the foyer. My adrenaline starts kicking in and my fight or flight instinct tells me to fight like hell. I take a deep breath and psych myself up, arming myself with the vase in one hand and the other firmly holding my towel against my chest.
One… Two… THREE!
I charge down onto the main floor, flicking on the light switch and letting out a scream that I hope comes off as menacing.
“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” I yell, holding up the vase in an attack position, ready to throw it or smash it on the ground to create a diversion.
Two people, a man and a woman, release from a passionate embrace against the entryway table and whip their heads over at me, screaming back in fear. They look to be around my age, with their hair mussed and shirts unbuttoned, and I immediately realize that they were just in the midst of a steamy make-out session before I came crashing in with my war cries.
After a moment of our combined screams ringing in my ears, their eyes look me over and they both slip into stunned silence, making me think for a second that I’ve successfully scared off the horny intruders. That is, until the man (who looks oddly familiar, though I can’t place him in this moment of panic) averts his eyes and quips a little too smugly, “You dropped your towel.”