22. Cassidy
I wake up irritated and confused, the smell of freshly made coffee filling the guest room. The source is a steaming cup on the dresser by the door. I roll onto my side, wincing as I briefly put weight on my tender ass, and grab my phone to check the time.
It’s dead.
Shit. I didn’t know I’d be away from home for so long, so I didn’t bother packing a charger. I make a note to check if I still have a spare in my car’s glove compartment.
Ha. It’s not like anyone’s going to be dying to get hold of me. Dad only tries every three weeks to get money out of me, so his next call is only due next month again.
I grab a pillow and shove it over my face.
If I had the energy, I’d scream into it.
Day three, and I’m no closer to finding the evidence I’m looking for. Instead of trying to access his computer again last night, I came back to my room like a docile lamb, climbed into bed, and fell fast asleep.
All because he made me come last night.
Nancy Drew didn’t go around acting like a child all the time, and she was a fucking kid.
What’s wrong with me? No sane woman would have willingly submitted to the punishment Remington doled out for me last night.
And yet, there I was—letting him spank me, finger me, and make me come.
The cup of coffee beckons, but I still have to muster up the energy to move. I slept like the dead last night, but I can still remember snatches of the dreams I tumbled into. Dreams where Ethan chased me through the halls of Glenmont Manor and punished me with his cock every time he got hold of me.
If I’d been wearing panties, they would have been damp. But I washed them in my en-suite bathroom last night and hung them so they’d be dry this morning.
No wonder my thighs are sticky.
It was quite the wet dream. I’ve had erotic dreams before, but I always wake up before I can come.
Not this time.
I lick my lips, grimacing at their weird, bitter taste.
I need a shower, pronto. Then I’m going to down that coffee and do my fucking job.
Not the one I’m pretending to do.
Come hell or high water, I’m going to find out what the hell happened to my mother.
Today.
A warm shower does wonders for my mind. Even the lukewarm coffee perks me up a little. But when I turn and see a bright yellow cocktail dress with a chiffon skirt hanging on the closet door, my face scrunches up in confusion.
Where the hell did that come from?
“Morning. I was wondering when you’d—” Ethan cuts off with a strangled sound, pulling the door closed to a crack again.
I’m still in my towel, my damp hair hanging in loose curls around my shoulders.
Why is he making such a fuss? It’s not like I’m naked.
“When I’d what?” I snap, going over to the door and pulling it open. I’m nursing my last few sips of coffee like it’s a bird with a broken wing. “Wake up and realize I’m crazy to still be here?”
Ethan locks eyes with me, such steely determination in those gray irises that I can’t help a wry smile. Guess I’m not the only one around here getting hot flashes when I think about what happened last night.
But it doesn’t matter how fucking good it was.
Me and Ethan? Never going to happen.
He’s a rich, narcissistic prick. Yeah, he played me like a goddamn violin, but I can make myself come in two minutes when I need to, so why do I care?
Two boring minutes…
“I’m glad you’re still here,” Ethan says. He’s wearing navy blue sweats with a matching hoody, as if he’s just come back from the gym. The thought of him working out makes me salivate a little… especially when a quick downward glance confirms that he’s going commando under the sweats.
His eyes drop to the top of the towel, but he hastily focuses them on my face again. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”
“You don’t say.”
There’s a glimmer of annoyance in his deep gray eyes, but his expression clears a moment later. “You saw the dress?”
“Hard to miss, since I’m pretty sure it wasn’t there when I went to sleep last night,” I drawl, taking another sip of my coffee.
But my gripes don’t seem to annoy Ethan for more than a millisecond this morning. He seems strangely calm. Dare I say it… happy?
He enjoyed what happened last night as much as I did—I was holding his cock through most of it. But this much?
A blush creeps up my face, and I hastily clear my throat. “We’ll address you sneaking into my room later. First, explain the dress.”
For the first time since meeting this man, there’s a touch of uncertainty in his eyes. He opens his mouth, but pauses before he speaks.
“If…If you’re available, I’d really appreciate a hand during the open house tomorrow.”
“Doing what?”
He shrugs. “Bunch of strangers in my house. They’ll probably want…canapés and champagne and stuff. Small talk. I’ve never been good with that kind of thing.”
I’m the one frowning now. I open my mouth, but he quickly puts up his hand to stall me. “I’ll obviously pay you for your time.”
“Um…”
“I don’t need your answer right away. Please…just think about it.”
He holds out a pair of sweats and a hoody, both in soft lilac. When I don’t take them from him, he says, “They’re brand new.”
My eyebrows lift. “You bought me clothes?”
He frowns, looks down at the sweats, and then back at me. His face clears as if he can suddenly understand my hesitation. “They belonged to someone else.”
Prickles of unease dance over my skin.
What the actual fuck?
I’m taking so long to process all of this, Ethan keeps filling in the blanks.
“She never wore them, though. Like I said, brand new.”
I have to summon my voice from the depths of my stomach. “Who never wore them?”
His frown deepens. “Does it matter?” His eyes dart across the room until he finds the heap where I left the maid’s uniform. “I don’t care what you wear when you’re working, and I’m sure you’ll be a lot more comfortable in these.”
Possibly…if I knew who the hell he’d bought them for.
A female guest? Acceptable, I guess. I mean, that’s what I am, right?
But what if it’s an ex-girlfriend? That would be weird.
My heart stalls.
What if they were for my mom?
It’s a massive leap. The note only indicated that she’d planned to meet Ethan at Glenmont Manor the night she disappeared…but what if they had other plans?
What if this was going to be her new home?
She’s definitely not here anymore, though. Because she left him too…or because she threatened to, and he made her stay.
This place is bound to have an attic.
An out-of-the-way shed.
Maybe even a basement.
I never even thought to check the rest of the house for evidence. All I was interested in was Remington’s computer or his phone.
He puts the clothes down on the edge of the bed and gives me a faint smile before pulling the door closed behind him. I stare at the sweats, then at the dress. I should be grateful I have clean clothes to wear, but I’m still creeped out, not knowing who they were originally intended for.
I was supposed to be done today. Now he wants me to stay another day?
Maybe this isn’t all bad.
I still have to search the basement and the attic and figure out how to access Ethan’s emails, phone records, and files.
Maybe the universe is finally cutting me some slack.
Or maybe it’s giving me a little more rope to hang myself with.